French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 47: -Kazuya- A Family

There was nothing in my head as I went down the line, cutting triangles of croissants out of my dough. Quick cuts, second nature, muscle memory. Steady as a-

He has a girlfriend.

Freezing up. Resuming. A blip in the-

He has a girlfriend.

Memories of last night. Jumping up from the couch, asking if he wanted some wine. He'd accepted too eagerly. I'd needed wine. I'd wanted to faint. What followed was a blur of us drinking together. Watching mindless TV. No more serious conversation. Him joking about Karens from work as we steadily got drunker together, finally having a good time at the end. The evening saved, but-

He has a girlfriend.

Seeing him to the door when his Uber came. Watching him slip and slide on the ice, calling for him to hold onto the railing due to his stupid shoes. I'd called his shoes stupid. 

My hand went to my forehead. Pausing in my work. He'd looked like he needed the wine more than me. If I thought clearly, he'd been about to cry when he told me he had a girlfriend. The few words I'd heard had told me that he didn't want a girlfriend. If I'd been braver, I'd have maybe heard the story.

I wasn't brave. 

I resumed cutting, pressing into the dough quickly and firmly-

His warm, firm thigh against mine. 

Pausing again. Staring at the wall. 

We'd been close to something. I saw in his eyes, when they'd flicked down to my hand on his thigh. I'd told him in that moment that I wanted him. My own confession, without words. It was all the bravery I'd had last night, and now...

It all made sense. He'd let me take his hand all the time. That was flirting. He'd come here every day almost, unless he had to work a double shift. He liked my chocolates. But, there wasn't ever anything more. We'd been getting closer. He'd come out to me. It was special, and I was special, because I was the only one he'd ever come out to.

I was special to him. That's what that had meant. Him coming out to me, two meanings in one. Only now was I realizing. 

And I felt stupid, because-

My tool chopped down the line in measured portions, ingrained in me from doing it every single day. Something I could do without thought, with my eyes closed. Trying to make my brain as numb as it had been right after he said those words last night. 

Right after he'd left, I'd wanted to call Nikki. But, I wasn't drunk enough to tell him what had happened. I still had enough sense to know that this was private information. Something that was very hard for Gyeong-Wan to tell me. He'd almost been crying.

Did that mean I was still special? That he hadn't wanted to tell me? 

I sat down on my stool, putting my hands on my thighs. They met in the middle, holding themselves. Too tight. Hurried breaths. My shoulders up too high. Staring at my hands, just like last night when he'd held one of them. Telling me this information. 

I went numb again.

"Welcome to French Cup!" Nikki yelled out. My head whipped up from the plate I was finishing for a customer, my strawberry sauce dripping onto the plate the wrong way. The person walking under the chiming bell was an old woman. Not Gyeong-Wan. 

I paid attention to the plate, carefully sitting the little fraisier cake on top of my messed up strawberry sauce. It still looked pretty, thank goodness. I squirted a couple of dollops of whipped cream on the side where the cake met the plate for presentation and also so the customer could enjoy it for dipping. Finally ready, I handed the plate to her. She was overjoyed at it, going away without comment, too excited. It made my heart a little less sad, but not enough.