Giselle knew she had made a mistake as soon as she sat down at the table. Across from her, Mary Nelson, the woman Giselle had had a crush on when they were eighteen, sat smiling as she raised her glass.
“Glad you could join me, Giselle. I heard you rarely come into town, so I take this as a compliment.” She winked at Giselle and sipped from whatever strange green cocktail she was having.
“I work a lot,” Giselle managed to say as a waiter approached them. “Some mineral water, please.”
“Ah, come on. Mineral water here at La Mer Turquoise? You’ve got to have some of their famous red wine at least.” Mary crinkled her nose and turned to the waiter. “A glass of the house red for my, um, friend.” She giggled and shook her head as if Giselle were a child who simply didn’t know any better.
Giselle wasn’t thrilled that Mary had ordered her something she didn’t want but decided to let it slide. Perhaps Mary was nervous too. Granted, she didn’t appear ill at ease, but she might just be able to hide it better. Giselle’s palms felt damp, and her pulse had to be at least a hundred beats per minute.
The waiter returned with her glass and some more water. “I hope you’ll like it, ma’am.” One lingering look at Giselle and then he was hurrying to another table.
“You still got it, Gissy.” Mary winked at her. “Any ideas what you’d like as a starter? Want to share some calamari?”
Giselle wouldn’t, but since Mary had her heart set on it, she didn’t want to be the perpetual downer. “Fine. Why not? And what do you mean by I ‘still got it’?” She honestly had no clue.
“Aw, come on,” Mary said and giggled. “You were turning all the boys’ heads twenty years ago. Little did they know you were a lesbian. And neither did I, for that matter. When I moved back to East Quay three months ago, I was floored when I heard you came out.” Laughing, Mary patted Giselle’s hand.
Giselle wanted to pull her hand free, but anything that could escalate into a scene would harm her sense of inner stability. “You were braver than I was,” she murmured. “You were always out.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Laughing even louder now, Mary looked pleased. “I always did go my own way. That’s what took me to New York, LA, and then back to East Quay. I heard this town has managed to produce some of the world’s most talented musicians right now. Including you!”
Giselle cringed. “I’m hardly a household name,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m very much behind the scenes.”
“Which is a shame.” Tilting her head, Mary winked. “I mean, you are the one writing the music and the lyrics. Without you, the vocalists couldn’t perform.”
The altogether-too-familiar buzz began to echo in Giselle’s head as she noticed how some people at the closest tables began turning their heads in her direction. She tried to convince herself that everyone around them was watching the stunningly beautiful Mary, but that attempt didn’t slow Giselle’s pounding heart. “Please,” she murmured. “I prefer to work like that, and I’m not fond of too much attention.”
Clearly Mary thought she was playing it coy, because she gave a loud laugh that drew even more attention from the other patrons. “Oh, no. Don’t give me that. Of course, you should demand credit where it’s due. You’re a genius. I know some people in the music industry, and they sing your praises, no pun intended. That’s partly why I looked you up, you know. I had to see for myself how the shy girl from school could have changed so fundamentally. I mean, you were mostly homeschooled as well, which added to your mystery.”
“I really haven’t changed, Mary.” Palms damp now, Giselle experienced the all-too-familiar tunnel vision that often preceded a full-blown panic attack. Anxiety rose like hot bile inside her, and she gripped the napkin on her lap. “I honestly am the same person.”
“Aw, come on. I find it hard to see how someone who’s written songs for the most famous names in the industry both here and in Europe could be cut from the same cloth as little, scrawny Giselle from twenty-some years ago.” Mary tilted her head and scrutinized Giselle. “Are you all right though? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. I just need to visit the restroom.” Giselle stood but moved too fast, and her chair fell backward, hitting the hardwood floor with a resounding clatter. Flinching, Giselle knew it was too late for breathing into her ever-present paper bag in the restroom now. She gasped for air, and the familiar excruciating pain erupted in her chest. She was certain she’d faint.
“Giselle!” Mary was suddenly by her side and grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Must…get out of here…have to go home.” Sounding husky and barely getting the words out, Giselle tried to feel her way toward the exit. Instead, she misjudged her position and bumped into an unknown woman, who gave a startled yelp.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, lady.” A male voice rose above the noise in Giselle’s head.
Giselle took several, rapid steps backward and stumbled into something that fell to the floor with a loud bang. Small, bitter cold projectiles hit Giselle, and the last remnant of calmness in her mind suggested they were ice cubes. Frigid water splashed against her thin blouse.
Standing there unable to move, Giselle was now hyperventilating and whimpering. Hands, which she surmised belonged to Mary, nudged her toward the exit.
“Let’s go, Giselle. You need some air.”
It should be reassuring to recognize Mary’s voice, but instead, Giselle withdrew.
“Easy. You’re having some sort of panic attack or something.”
“Must go home.” Giselle tried to free herself, but Mary kept a firm grip of her left arm as they exited the restaurant.
“I’ll take you, okay? You’re not doing too well.”
Giselle blinked several times, trying to clear her vision. The pity in Mary’s voice coincided with the expression on her face.
“No. Just leave me alone. I should have…known better. I’ll go to my car and…and just wait it out. It’ll pass. It always does.”
Giselle freed herself, but then the male voice from the restaurant sounded again.
“I have called an ambulance,” he said, apparently calmer now. “She clearly needs help.”
“No ambulance,” Giselle pleaded. Now when her vision was back, she could tell people had gathered around her on the sidewalk, and the restaurant patrons were staring at her through the window.
“Just sit here,” Mary said, pushing her down onto a bench. “It’s a great idea to have a doctor examine you.”
Fury and fear battled inside Giselle, and she locked them all out of her mind and withdrew again. Her shell seemed to become increasingly impenetrable with time. This was her worst episode yet, and she would make sure she didn’t have any more, even if that meant retreating into her house or garden.
She would never subject herself to this type of humiliation again. Never.