Mastication

 

THE BAKERY DID get busy, and fast. Bea told Odette that it was a mix of locals and tourists. “More and more tourists,” Bea said, “ever since the bakery got that nice review on the Internets.”

Odette tried not to laugh about how she said “Internets.” It was clear Bea didn’t know much about the Web, or computers, or cell phones. She got super irritated when people came into the bakery talking on their phones, especially when they were wearing an earpiece.

“How are you supposed to tell who’s talking to you, who’s on the phone, and who’s just plain crazy?” Bea asked, but it wasn’t the kind of question that needed answering.

Bea set Odette to work measuring out ice cream scoops full of cookie dough for baking, and when Mom and Dad came downstairs, she showed them how to work the cash register and refill the display cases. Rex stayed upstairs, either sleeping or playing games on his Game-X.

The bakery grew warmer and warmer as it filled up. A line grew in front of the counter, people jostling for coffee, bread, pastries, and tea.

Lots of people couldn’t even wait for a table to dig into their food, biting in right at the register. Crumbs rained down all over the place, and after she was done with the cookie dough, Odette found a broom and set to work.

Mom and Dad kept giving her these proud smiles, all happy that she was pitching in. But Odette didn’t feel proud of herself. She felt angry at everyone. All these people, mindlessly shoving pastries in their mouths, messing up Grandma Sissy’s floor, when Grandma Sissy herself couldn’t even seem to take a bite of her own food.

Chewing, chewing, swallowing, digesting. Masticating. All of it disgusting, and none of it fair.

She swept harder and harder, tear-blurred eyes focused on the black and white tile floor, maneuvering around the customers with a cursory “Excuse me” every so often.

“Odette?”

Odette looked up. Harris. She smiled. “Hey.”

“What’re you doing?” A really dumb question, considering the broom in her hand.

“Just helping out,” Odette said. “This is my grandmother’s bakery.”

“No way,” said Harris. “This place is amazing!” And he took a big bite of his croissant. Somehow, watching him eat didn’t bother Odette at all. “It’s really cool,” he said, “running into you like this.”

“Yeah,” Odette answered. “Pretty strange.”

“I was going to text you after breakfast,” Harris said. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“I’ve been up for hours,” said Odette, and they stood there in the middle of the bakery, Harris holding his half-eaten croissant, Odette holding the broom. They were awkward and quiet for a minute, but even though it was uncomfortable, Odette didn’t want Harris to leave. “Hey,” she blurted, kind of loud. “Do you want to meet my dog?”

“Sure,” he answered. And smiled.