Mutisme

James Earl Walker's throat tightened just by the mere thought of speaking to her. The moment he saw her, his heartbeat will increase, pulsating to the max as she drew nearer to the counter he was working at. Through their conversations he would be near to the point of hyperventilation, and would begin hyperventilating the exact moment she would walk out the glass door and jump into her Mercedes. After her brief passing, he would run into the backroom as he did everyday where his inhaler awaited. This had become his daily routine, ever since the pretty auburn haired woman had begun to stop had his Starbucks every morning after work.

They never really talked much--of course, he tried countless times to let her know he was interested. Even if his daily habits made him sound like a total worm, he wasn't really. He TRIED so many times to get her to notice him. One time he had written his phone number down on the napkin he had given her. He asked the next afternoon in a non-nonchalant way if she ever noticed there had been anything on the napkin.

"Sorry, no. While I was pulling out of the parking lot my phone rang and I sort of spilled coffee all over me," She paused and gave him a smile that would brighten even a blind man's day. "Why, was there something written on it for me?"

He didn't have the guts to tell her it was his number. Some days she would seem so flirtatious, and then other days she would act cold and distant to him. He never understood why, he just guessed it was because she had her off days. Which was possible, I mean everyone was entitled to an off day here and there, right? But it was like it happened every single week.

"Take a pill or something, will you?" He thought irritated after she snapped at him for staring at her too long. "You are driving me over the edge!"

But no matter how she treated him, the anxiety still lingered. Each day he would find himself in the backroom with his inhaler, trying to calm himself down before he turned blue and passed out. Coming out of the back room one evening, his friend Jamal commented on his strange behavior.

"Mutisme." He said it out loud, looking at James. James didn't know he was talking to him at first.

"What?" He asked, moving back behind the counter before the boss came back from the restroom and demanded him to go back to work.

"Mutisme," Jamal repeated. "It means you're anxious because she's not interested. Face it, she's too old for you."

"She is not. I'm nineteen and she looks about twenty." Jamal stopped sweeping and gave James a look.

"Twenty and she's driving a Mercedes? Where the hell are you living? Who around here do you know has a car to drive to and from community college?" James began counting money just to keep his hands busy.

"What makes you think she goes to community college?" James asked.

"You're right she doesn't because she's too old for college. Even if she was our age she has to have a sugar daddy or something." Jamal said, and then Mr. Douglas came out of the restroom and the two shut up. But James's jaw was fixated into a tight line inside his mouth, his teeth grinding down on each other. He was going to override the fear of the woman (he didn't even know her name) and get to the bottom of this. She was leading him on and it was becoming torturous. She would check him out once in a while and ask him what he was doing after work, but never offered for them to go anyplace together.

"Maybe she's shy." James tried to console himself as he got into his car later that day. His gut was twisting again, and he was well onto his way of hyperventilating by the time he pulled up to his apartment complex. He needed to stop getting so crazy about a girl he barely knew anything about, because he was surely going to get disappointed tomorrow evening.

Many times throughout the day he tried to talk himself out of it, thinking maybe she was just shy or something. But for the entire past week she had appeared more and more cold and distant to him and he wanted to end his anxiety around her. He watched the clock hopefully, and a little after three the girl showed up, just like usual.

She was dressed in a light beige skirt and jacket work suit with a light pink camisole underneath. When she moved her head her white earrings dangled and sounded faintly like chimes, causing his heart to go spastic. Her hair seemed a bit longer than yesterday if that was even possible, and even the slightest bit darker.

"Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?" He asked.

"Yes, I'll have a French Vanilla Cappuccino please." This didn't surprise her, she'd bounce from Cappuccino to an ice coffee often.

"I'll get right on it ma'am." He said.

"It's Jill." She said for the first time, giving him a bright smile he'd seen before. He nearly chocked on his own spit: she had told him her name! He needed to steady his shaking hands as he went to work getting her order. He handed her the cappuccino and printed out the receipt.

"How has your day been?" She asked, taking the receipt.

"It's been okay." He said. Jill stood still on the other side of the counter. Was she stalling?

"How has your day been?" He asked, nearly on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Oh it's been fine. Just a bit busy with work and all," She said, rolling her eyes. "But I guess that's just how it is with the workforce."

"Yeah, I guess so." They laughed nervously together. "But uh...you seemed, you seemed really edgy yesterday." She looked confused.

"I did?"

"Yeah. Well, I mean I guess it was probably a hard week at work since you kept coming in here all week looking edgy." Uh oh. That really sounded weird. "Not that I've been watching you all week. You're one of our regulars, so I guess I can tell the difference each day."

"Can you now?" Her eyebrow cocked, almost flirtatiously. His breaths were coming up short. He was losing the precious time he had with her peaked interest by acting like a total creep.

"Yeah, but don't worry. It's like that with all the regulars. Do you want to go out sometime?" He just blurted out the words without any warning. What was going to happen? His throat was closing up. Jill kept on a poker face at his request and readjusted her handbag on her arm.

"I don't know, we'd have to see." It felt like someone punched him.

"Please? You have me so confused because some days you come in here acting like you're going to bite my head off for not getting your order correct and other days you come in here acting like you're interested in me too." There it went again. He tried to shrug it off, but he was shaking so bad. Her face clouded over in confusion again. Then a light came on in her face and she laughed, hitting her head with her palm.

"You don't think I'm interested in you because my moods change each day?" She asked.

"You...what? You are?" James babbled. But she was just being so...so on the fence a minute ago.

"I've been working long hours since my promotion. That's why I said we'd see." She laughed again. "But you thought..." More laughter came out, and James began to feel embarrassed. What about him was so funny? He was beginning to feel lightheaded from the shortness of breath.

"What?" He croaked out, but it was barely heard by Jill. She was too busy laughing. He heard the door open but he couldn't peel his eyes away from Jill.

"I was wondering what was taking so long." The new person said. James took a look at the stranger and couldn't believe his eyes.

"James, this is Lynn. She's my twin sister." Jill said, patting on her sister's arm and slowing down her laughter. It clicked now. The difference in hair length and color, the difference in coffee order, the difference in personality. Everything. Two different sisters. Two identical twins.

It was almost too much for him. He began to feel weightless all of the sudden, his lungs giving out from the lack of air due to his anxious state.

James Earl Walker fainted.