French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 73: -Kazuya- Madeleines and Strawberry Tarts

The new batch of chocolate in my bain-marie was perfectly melted and glossy. Another fat, juicy strawberry hung from my fingertips and dipped inside, and with a twirl of my wrist it was perfect. I waited a few seconds, then did it one more time. Like this, I set it on wax paper to complete a line of them that were waiting. My hand slipped under the tray and I marched to the refrigerator. This tray met its fellows, so many double chocolate dipped strawberries chilling. 

I'd decided late yesterday that today was strawberry day. Strawberries were cheerful, and I needed cheering up. Someone else did, too. 

These chocolate dipped strawberries would be perfect for Gyeong-Wan. They weren't something you ate every day. They were special. And he needed something special. He'd seemed to be doing better yesterday, but only slightly. He'd been pretty quiet overall. He usually was, with that shy way about him. It made me stop in my tracks for a second, remembering his usual face. Staring at me with a slightly curious expression, a careful way. 

I'd chosen to let him do what he needed to do. He'd been so upset the other day, convinced his girlfriend had seen him. I still didn't think she could be in Tokyo. It was such a stretch. Would she really come here? He said she had money, but... 

If I really thought about it, I'd go over the ocean to see Gyeong-Wan, too. So, maybe it wasn't such a stretch. 

Hurriedly, I placed these strawberries in the fridge. But, why was I moving so fast? Was I trying to run away? His situation was complicated, but we were adults. We could handle it. But, if I thought about it more, it was way more complicated than on the surface. 

My own situation had been complicated, too. If I compared them...but there wasn't any use comparing them. Each situation was horrible. I'd come out to my mom at the age of seventeen. She was all I'd had, the only person that I would tell. I hadn't told her due to feeling confident in her. I'd only felt it was a part of myself that she should know. She hadn't wanted me to have a girlfriend during high school, because of my studies. But, I was going to college soon and she'd be expecting it then. She didn't consider my line of study in college to be intensive, but that's where she was very wrong. However, due to this belief she'd hinted every now and again about it being okay for me to date in college. 

I'd told her on a cold night during my senior year. She wasn't the type to scream and yell, but what she did was worse. It was the same as when I'd do things such as accidentally break something of hers or be irresponsible. She sat at the table with me, and after the words left my mouth she stared down at her hands, a complete look of disappointment on her face. A sadness there, one that I knew I'd caused.

She outed me to her sister in order to talk about it. I forgave her for this. My aunt was a little more accepting, trying to explain wrongly to my mom that I must have been influenced by the ways of the west since I was so obsessed with French patisserie. She did understand that being gay isn't something you just pick up, but she assumed that I must have thought it was okay since it was okay in the west. Her ultimate assurance to my mom was, "well, what are you going to do? It's done. Can't change it." Which was far from excellent. 

When I went to college, there was one phone call which changed my life. My mom called me one day, saying she'd thought about it. She didn't mention what "it" was, but it was implied. She let out a deep, long sigh and said: "First your father, now you." These words weighed me down like ten million pounds. I'd hung up on her and put my face in my hands. Because, she'd meant she felt as if she'd experienced my death. That she was mourning me. There was no other meaning. We'd spoken a few times over the years since then, but that was it. She didn't even call me on my birthday. 

I'd only become alive again when I met Nikki and everybody at the drag club. When I acquired friends. I'd never been lucky in romantic love, and used that fact to beat myself up, my mom's words echoing in a dark space. I thought that way for a long time.