Page 2 of Just Ten Seconds

I peer down at the coffeepot in my hand and nod. My Toms squeak on the checkered floor as I walk to the four-top where my customers are eating lunch.

I hear Jackie whisper-scolding Nick in the background, “You’re such a dick.”

“Can I get you anything else?” I ask the customers as I refill their mugs.

“Just the check,” the gentleman answers without making eye contact.

His lunch partner is staring at her iPhone.

Placing the pot on a vacant table, I reach into my apron and pull out the order pad, ripping the top paper off and handing them their bill. “Bring this to the counter when you’re done.”

Just like that, I leave their side, as invisible as when I arrived.

I used to love being the center of attention. I thrived on the stage with the lights glaring on me, so bright that I couldn’t see the faces of the crowd. Now, I’m content with being a fly on the wall, the one patrons don’t always look at, and that’s fine with me.

I check on my other tables—more coffee for table four, a Sprite and extra mayo for the tuna melt at table nine, and table six wanted curly fries, not steak fries. When everyone is served, I head back to the counter and open the lid to the coffeemaker to change the filter.

“You forgot to wipe down around the machine,” Nick says as he walks out from the kitchen with a rag draped over his shoulder. His Mets hat is slung backward with his jet-black hair curling over the sides.

Jackie takes a napkin, crumples it up, and throws it at her husband’s head. “Be nice to my best friend. She’s too good for this place.”

He doesn’t flinch. “I agree, but she’s my employee, and you’re both on the clock. Plus, we’re due for an unannounced visit from the health inspector, and I need this floor to be so clean that I can eat off it.”

She makes a gagging face. “Honey, we have an A rating, but there is no way I’d ever eat off this floor.”

“An A that was one point away from a B. The café is doing good, but plaster anything other than a top score on the window, and the customers will flee. We have a loan to pay off, and I’m not in the business of defaulting.”

Jackie reaches up on her tippy-toes and kisses the side of his head, earning her a sideways glance and a smirk from Nick. It’s an endearing interaction, one that sums up their relationship perfectly. He gives her hell. She busts his chops about it. No matter what, Jackie always wins.

I grab a rag of my own and start wiping down the coffee machine.

Jackie curls into Nick’s side and addresses me, “It’s Friday night, Mara. Why don’t you come out with us?”

“And be the third wheel? Awesome,” I say sarcastically.

“Nick could bring someone for you,” she sings.

And my hand halts its motion. I know she means well. Being in a relationship is the natural goal for most people. Unfortunately for her, I’m not most people, and her desire to get me out of my shell and into the arms of someone new isn’t happening.

Not today. Not ever.

Nick shakes his head. “I can’t. I’m the only one here tomorrow. I have to be back at five in the morning.”

Jackie grabs my arm. “See, even more reason for you to come out with me. This killjoy is a workaholic.”

He grumbles. “Jack—”

A loud bang interrupts his words.

I fall to the floor, my hands over my head, as electric bolts of fear shoot up my spine. The blood pulses in my ears as my heart pounds against my chest. I clutch my hair, breathing hard—so very, very hard—yanking with a firm grasp to feel the physical pain. A reminder that I’m here. Not there. Not back in the past and the horrific events that still make my hands shake and feet tingle with distress. Bile rises in my throat as I hunch over into a ball, pulling my knees up against my chest.

Jackie is quickly at my side, her hands on my back, rubbing in a circular motion. “Mara, it’s okay. It was just Manny in the kitchen. He dropped a pot.”

I close my eyes and run my hands over my face, sweeping down my neck. With my hand over my chest, I feel the swift kicks against my palm and mentally berate myself for being so overdramatic. Thankfully, I’m behind the counter and out of view of the customers.

For someone who hates attention, I sure do have a way of bringing it upon myself.

I take a deep breath as I stand. My hands are clammy, so I wipe them on my apron and raise my chin.