French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 91: -Kazuya- Dear Promise

It was 1AM and my stomach hurt. However, I was trying not to let on. A raw ache, matching the one in my heart. Normally, I'd be telling myself that I had to sleep. That I needed to be at French Cup by 4AM in order to prepare. What would I make today? Something finnicky that needed four hours to create? Would I be thinking about the croissants, going over them in my head? Would I make one of the macarons a special flavor, not the usual one, so when a customer who liked them bit into the special one, they'd say, "ohh, what is this?" with delight? How about something chocolate... Yes, something chocolate for Gyeong-Wan. A caramel chocolate, for Gyeong-Wan. He hadn't tasted my caramels before. What an oversight. This disgrace. 

On the phone, he was talking about work. Trying to act casual, but I could tell it was forced. This new thing we were doing, on the phone. Why was I getting enraged? What was rising in me? It wasn't toward him. Never. But something in me was making my eyes squint.

"I wore a blue suit today. I only have two of those. I feel as if the only appropriate colors for work are blue, black, or brown. Even my tie. I shouldn't wear any patterns on it. It's distracting. I can only wear blue, gold, red, or black ones. Those are appropriate. But, I can't wear a blue tie with a blue suit. They don't match. Wearing the red with the blue is too bold. Black with the blue is classic, but makes me feel like a waiter. Being a waiter is fine, but I don't want to feel like I'm at work more than I have to. Black tie with black suit makes me feel like I work for the government. It feels like work, too."

Rambling on about his clothes. That's all he was doing. But, something inside was starting to seethe. 

"And my shirt underneath. It's always white. I wear a white shirt almost every day of my life. Nothing else is work appropriate. It's too casual. Just once, I'd like to wear a pink shirt like you do. Imagine, wearing that to work? But, you do. A lot. I like pink on...you."

"You should wear a pink shirt to work."

He gave a nervous breath. "No. Oh, no. I couldn't do that."

Oh. I got it now. Where this was coming from. 

"Why not?"

"They wouldn't consider it professional. Even if I want to, I can't do it. It isn't appropriate. At least I don't have to wear the same uniform every day, like my front desk agents do. But, I guess it is a uniform just the same. A rotating one."

He didn't get to pick the clothes he wore. He didn't have that freedom. Just another thing the hotel was taking away, in its power to do so. The hotel. Everything about it was sickening me.

Ever since Nikki had taken me to his apartment after we left Charlotte's theater, the rage had been building. This unexpected feeling. It felt off, wrong somehow. Entirely inappropriate, but it was there. Placing it on anything was even more wrong. I didn't know what to do with it. I vaguely knew it was coming from what happened at French Cup. Was it at the boys? No. Not at the moment. At their parents? That was a good second guess. We'd discussed their parents at length, trying to place our feelings there instead. Trying to focus our energy on them. But, in the end we'd just felt lost. Powerless.

The only thing that made me feel powerful was wanting to get back at them. But, it made me confused. 

Now, hearing him talk about the hotel. Not even being able to pick the clothes he wore. I'd seen him wear suits almost every day. This color palette he was talking about. It wasn't just his work clothes. He wore these colors in his casual clothes, too. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know why, but..." I began. Unsure what to say. Wanting to talk about my anger, but I didn't want him to worry. 

"Hmm?" He was being patient. So calm compared. If he'd been with us in the theater, would he be this calm? But, he'd seen things that we hadn't. So many more things to be enraged about, yet he was this calm.