Page 21 of Spicy or Sweet
“The door is broken. It can only be opened from the outside,” I explain, trying to keep my voice even. If I sound as worried as I feel, that’s only going to make her panic more.
“We’re stuck in here? Oh god.”
She’s crying, and every gasp digs a deeper pit in my stomach.
“I’m going to call someone to come get us out. It’s going to be okay.”
I take her hand and place it directly over my chest so she can feel the rise and fall. It’s clammy, her fingers trembling. It feels like she’s barely holding herself up.
“Try and match your breathing to mine.”
“Okay,” she replies, half-hiccup, half-sob.
I pull out my phone. Since the café and the basement doors are both closed, I’m limited to the people who have keys for The Enchanted Bakery. My parents, Felix, Rora, and Henry. There’s never been a need for any of the staff to have keys, because I live right upstairs.
My parents are staying at Rora’s cabin for a few days, and cell reception is spotty up there. Felix is closest, so I call him first. It rings out three times. I grit my teeth as I listen to the start of his voicemail message again—god forbid he answer his phone when I actually need him. The toy store closed an hour ago, but I try it anyway, to no avail.
Rora and Henry are our last shot.
I try not to let my worry show as I dial. Shay’s breathing is getting more erratic with every call that goes unanswered. I place my hand over hers on my chest, stroking my thumb slowly over the back of her hand.
“Hey. What’s up?”
I could cry as my best friend’s voice sounds down the line. “Hi.” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears—too forced, too cheery, too loud in the hushed pantry. And Rora notices right away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Shay and I are stuck in the pantry in the basement. Can you come let us out, please?”
Rora whistles. “Shit. I mean, yeah, but we’re in Jackson, so we’ll be an hour and a half at least.”Fuck.
Shay must be able to hear, because she lets out a sob that has me tightening my hold on her.
“Was that Shay? Is she okay?” Rora asks, sounding alarmed.
“Everything’s fine!” I’m not even convincing myself at this point. “Shay’s a little claustrophobic, but she’s doing okay. Aren’t you?” I prompt, squeezing her hand.
“I’m okay,” she says, sounding anything but.
I hear Rora ushering my uncle Henry to start the car. “Did you try Felix?”
“He’s not picking up,” I reply through gritted teeth. “Can you guys drive quickly?”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Rora promises.
I focus on Shay when I hang up, rummaging around in my pocket. I don’t have tissues, but I have a napkin from the samples I was checking this morning. It’ll do.
I’m not sure what possesses me to wipe her cheeks myself, instead of handing it to her, but she presses her face against my hand, like the touch is comforting.
“They’ll be here soon,” I tell her, wiping gently. “You’re doing great.”
“Thank you,” she hiccups. “I’m sorry about this. It hasn’t… It hasn’t been this bad in a while.”
“You don’t need to apologize. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
She shakes her head. “I just need to get out of here. I’ve tried so many things over the years—hypnotherapy, medication, meditation, and nothing helps.” Every word is punctuated with a gulp of air.
“Have you always been claustrophobic?”
