Sweet Talk

“Um, sure.” Not knowing what else to do, Claire dumped the bagels into the second bag and continued filling the bag. When she got to ten, she’d gone through all the bagels, so she started back at the top of the case, trying not to bump into Maggie and the other man working.

She took the bagels to the woman. “I’m sorry. What else did you want?”

The woman looked at her like she was an idiot. “Cream cheese. Regular and fat-free. And two dozen muffins. Quickly.”

Claire turned, not sure where the cream cheese was. Maggie thrust two containers into her hands.

“Thanks,” Claire murmured, then went to get the muffins.

When she’d gathered everything, she went to the cash register. Her customer handed her a credit card. Claire stared at it, then the machine.

“Dear God, could you go slower?” the woman muttered.

Claire’s chest began to tighten. She ignored the pressure.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said with a smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I never would have guessed.”

Maggie came over and took the credit card. “I’ll ring this up. You go to the next customer.”

Claire nodded and looked at the number reader. “One seventy-four.”

Two teenagers in uniforms stepped forward. “A cherry-cheese Danish and a medium coffee. Leave lots of room for milk, please,” the first girl said.

“Sure.” Claire drew in deep breaths, but that didn’t make the pain go away. The tightness only increased until it made her ears ring.

She moved around Maggie and stood in front of the display case. “Which one?” she asked the teenager.

“The one with the cherry and cheese on it,” the girl said and pointed. “Hello. That one.”

Claire reached for a tissue and pulled it from the case. She handed it to the girl, then went to get coffee.

There were four dispensers standing in a row. She took a cup and managed to fill it nearly full. When she carried it back to the teenager, the girl stared at her.

“Medium, not small and real coffee, not decaf. What’s wrong with you?”

Claire looked at the cup, then back at the stacks of them. At the same time she saw a little sign above the dispenser she’d used saying Decaf.

The chest pain got worse. She couldn’t breathe. No matter how much air she sucked in, it wasn’t going into her lungs. She was going to pass out and then she was going to die.

“I can’t—” she gasped, and set the coffee on the counter. “I can’t.”

“What’s wrong?” the girl asked. “Are you having a fit? Is she having a fit? Can I have my coffee first?”

There was a buzzing in her ears. Claire staggered back. She leaned against the wall.

Maggie hurried over. “What is wrong with you?”

“Can’t … breathe. Panic … attack.”

“You’re worse than Nicole said. Just get out of here. Go. You’re scaring the customers.”

It was just like what had happened the last time she’d been on stage, only no one rushed to help her. She wasn’t urged to lie down or sip water. It was as if she didn’t exist.

As she leaned against the wall and struggled for breath, she watched customer after customer be served, then leave. They went on with their lives. They had lives. What did she have?

She sank into a crouch, still gasping. Tears burned in her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted, she thought grimly. She wanted to be more than a crazy person with mutant hands. She wanted to be strong and capable. She wanted to be normal. But how?

She tried telling herself that despite how she felt, she really was breathing. Otherwise she would already be dead. Panic attacks were just a sensation. They were a biological response but they weren’t about anything.

What she wanted to do was curl up in a ball until it was over. Instead, she forced herself to stand. After taking in two slow, deep breaths, she walked back to the counter and called out the next number.

A man stepped forward. “A dozen doughnuts,” he said. “They’re for the secretaries in my office, so lots of chocolate.”

She nodded and reached for a box. After collecting twelve doughnuts, mostly chocolate, she went to the cash register and looked at the card. There was a single price for a dozen.

“Five-fifty,” she said.

He handed her a ten.

Claire put that into the cash register, made change and handed it over. The man smiled at her.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She checked the next number and called it out. Her chest still ached and she couldn’t catch her breath, but she kept going. Working carefully, trying to smile and give each customer what he or she wanted.

One customer turned into two. Two turned into five. Eventually the bakery cleared out. When they were finally alone, Maggie looked at her.

“You all right?”

Claire nodded. “Sorry about the panic attack. It happens sometimes.”

All the time, lately, but she didn’t want to admit that.

“You didn’t give up,” Maggie said. “That’s something. And you helped. So thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You can go. We’ll be slow from now until lunch. By then Tiff will be here.”

Claire nodded and walked into the back of the bakery. After removing the apron and hairnet, she collected her purse and walked to her car.

She started the engine and leaned back in the seat. She was exhausted. A quick glance at the clock told her less than two hours had passed since she’d arrived, which didn’t seem possible. She felt as if she’d been working days.

Her cell phone rang. Claire pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Lisa again. Nothing good would come from that call. She turned off the phone and shoved it in her purse.