Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Just as Trace was leaving Jules walked in looking stressed. I fulfilled a few orders while she put on an apron, some nitrile gloves and tied her hair into a low ponytail before putting on the customary store baseball cap. She came up to me while my line waned in numbers.
"Sorry." Jules began in a rush. "It's just something came up and I know you hate working cash, Darius, but I'm really sorry I'm late. Ralphie just can't stand to be alone and me and Justin are still splitting up. So—" she inhaled deeply but I was already tired of hearing it.
The morning rush was effectively done and at this time we typically took one of the girls off of cash to do some light cleaning and help refill the displays. "You're two hours late." I said quietly, cashing out my last customer and closing out the till.
"I'm sorry, Darius. It won't happen again."
"It's not like I'm your boss, Jules." I said sharply, annoyed by the entire morning.
Her head bobbed aggressively, pony tail bouncing. "Okay, I'm still sorry."
My anxiety attack was still waiting in the wings to ruin my day so I told Jules to count the till and report to Maureen, our manager who came in after the morning rush was done, even as I felt my vision tunnelling and my breath falling short.
I walked towards the back, feeling sweat slip down between my shoulder blades and trail down my back.  The only place I could quietly freak out was the all gender washroom the shop had. I was already struggling to breathe and my heart was beating with such an intensity it felt like my ribs were breaking. I went towards the hallway that lead towards the kitchen, opened what looked like a janitor's closet and turned on the light to the bathroom.
I already couldn't breathe by the time I started pacing the small space. I stumbled, sitting down on the lidded toilet seat and clenched my fists, trying to count. "One, two, three, four, five, six." Heaving, shaking and trying not to cry. "Se—seven, eight, nine, ten." I practiced more deep breathing exercises, telling myself most of the customers would probably forget about the disaster, that I was over reacting, that I'd get over it. But it felt like a pipe dream to think I would get over this sensation of walls caving in, and like death at the very moment would be better than the sense of profound embarrassment my anxiety gave me.
Most of the time, my anxiety allowed me to function, but too much would trigger an eventual anxiety attack. Like today. Working cash during rush hour set me on edge and the customer only pushed me over it. For about five minutes I choked, shuddered and shook while my chest ached, and I felt like some kind of darkness was consuming me.
Self loathing washed over me as I kept counting to ten slowly and my breaths finally evened as the anxiety attack came to an end. And then the exhaustion set in. I was basically drenched in sweat and my muscles were sore from clenching so hard.
I left the bathroom after washing my face and went to the change room to change shirts and reapply deodorant. I always brought two or three in case I sweated up a storm. It was embarrassing but better than having a sweat drenched t-shirt.
Back in the kitchen Mitchell was packaging one of our catering orders when I walked in. The rest of the morning staff were here as well, moving around Mitchell easily in their white uniforms and aprons.
Mitchell gave me a knowing look and I knew he wanted to discuss my absence. He was the only person who knew how debilitating my anxiety attacks could be. During his first week, I'd disappeared into a janitorial closet to shake and shudder alone and he'd found me, thinking I was having some kind of medical attack. It had taken a lot to convince him not to call an ambulance. Sometimes, Mitchell being African made it worse because my parents were originally from West Africa and Mitchell frequently looked to me as someone he needed to look after and take of.
I hurried past the staff members who said good morning to me, and I went into the office to discuss things with Maureen.
"Good morning Darius." Maureen said as she typed an email into the office computer. She was dressed professionally, in dark slacks and a pale, tucked in blouse. Her thick, red rectangular frames took up half her face matching Maureen's striking red hair, styled into short bangs and making her innumerable freckles stand out. She was hardworking, efficient, and quick. Despite how brusque she could be she was usually easy to talk to and gave me a lot of leniency because I was good at my job.
I went into the office and sat down, clearing my throat. Maureen's head jerked up and she stopped typing. "Is something wrong?"
"This is the fourth time this month Jules has come over an hour late." I scrubbed my hand across my jaw. "Normally, I wouldn't say anything but I hate working cash so much, Maureen. I hate filling in for her when she's late. I don't know what to do anymore."
Maureen wrote out a note on her notepad, speaking in a cool voice. "Should I fire her?"
I blanched. "No. I don't want that, I just want it to stop. Could you talk to her, I don't know, and see what the source is? I don't think I'm up for having a conversation with her today."
Maureen nodded sagely. "How's the dating scene going?" The other thing was that Maureen and I were friends. Somehow she didn't mind my awkward silences too much and she thought of me as more adorable rather than a nervous wreck.
I let out a dry laugh. "It's not going anywhere."
Her voice took a sympathetic slant. "The breakup with Jeremy was that rough?"
I frowned. Jeremy had thought because I was tall, muscular, and tattooed I was supposed to have some hard, domineering personality. The more I thought about it the more I realized part of it had been that he expected me to be like that because I was black. It had been an uncomfortable undercurrent to our relationship I never wanted to look at too closely. I didn't want to be someone's token boyfriend and it was humiliating to think that's what I was to Jeremy.
"I just wish I could meet guys outside of Grindr, or clubs. That stuff just isn't my scene." More like it set my anxiety off to an incredible level, that I couldn't really hang out in clubs and I deleted Grindr within a week of getting it. It wasn't a dating app, just a hookup one and I was looking for a meaningful connection.
"I can still set you up, Darius, if you'd like."  Maureen was back to sending off an email, but her tone was careful. "I know a lot of gay gays looking, or rather, friends of friends. I know you don't like bars, or places super public but you have to get out of your comfort zone if you want to find a man." She paused. "Do you want to find a man?"
"It's only been two weeks since I found Jeremy—"I struggled. "Like that. I don't know if I can handle it all right now."
"You won't know unless you get out there. Let me take care of it. You're a great guy Darius, and you showed me the ropes on my first week. Let me do this for you." Maureen blinked her blue eyes at me and I sighed.
"Okay."
#
The day passed by in a blur, and soon I was the second to last one there as everyone went home. There was a wedding cake I was working on, with a lot of hand piping and after hours of working my hands were aching and cramped. I helped Maureen close up I was turning off the lights and turning on the security system when I saw a shadow by the door.
We were open 7:30am to 7pm on Monday to Friday's and 9am to 2pm on weekends. It was already well past 7pm but I walked to the door anyways.
The stylish blond hair, and dark leather jacket were enough to tell me it was Jeremy. I frowned as I unlocked the door and let him in.
I'd always appreciated how Jeremy looked at me like I was a wet dream come to life, but there wasn't much beyond that.
"Hey, Derr-bear." Jeremy greeted me with an unexpected hug even though I stood there with my hands by my side. His hands moved around and squeezed the plains of my back. "You're looking as jacked as always." He looked up me, still hugging me around the waist. "Wanna go for a drink?"
I moved out of his grasp. "No, Jeremy I don't." The fact that he could come to my place of work and pretend like nothing had happened was absolutely maddening. He had cheated on me.
Jeremy put two fingers in my belt loop, drawing my closer. "C'mon. I know you want to. It doesn't have to be complicated, just a couple drinks, we could go back to my place, listen to some jazz." Jeremy raised himself up on his toes to kiss me and I moved away at the last second.
"Go home Jeremy." I said quietly, embarrassed for him.
"We were so good together." Jeremy whispered, still standing too close. "I'm loud, you're quiet, you're introverted, I'm extroverted. It works." His voice got rough. "You're big, I'm small..."
"It didn't." I said, feeling more bold than I had before. "It never worked. You never listened to me, Jeremy. And the only reason we even lasted as long as we did is because you obsess over how I look."
Not taking the hint, Jeremy trailed his hand up and down my arm, tracing my new ink. "You look like a model, babe. Can you blame me?"
But, Jeremy's crooked smile and soft brown eyes didn't work on me anymore. "You never even got to know me." I threaded my hands through my hair. "I just want someone to see me."
"Dairy-baby," Jeremy started. "I see you."
"I hate that nickname." I snapped. "And I hate how touchy you are. Maybe sometimes, I just want to sit and talk but you're always ready to jump my bones. I'm no longer interested in you, Jeremy. Especially not after I walked in on..." My voice left me because it still hurt and I was so humiliated by the entire thing.
Jeremy pouted, and I noticed that his lips looked fuller than the last time I'd seen him. The longer I looked the more I realized he'd had injections. Gross. I didn't have anything against plastic surgery but I hated when it looked unnatural. His lips were the unnatural plumpness that I could never be in to. I wasn't sure how I hadn't realized how vapid he was.
Jeremy practically purred. "We can be friends with benefits."
"Just. Get. Out." I said quietly.
"Darius," Jeremy crooned. "I know you're not hooking up with anyone. Let's just have some fun."
"Don't come back here, Jeremy. It's pathetic." I let out a self deprecating laugh. "It's pathetic how I let you treat me like this."
Jeremy's brows drew down as his mouth took a cruel slant. "No wonder you've never had a long term relationship. You don't know how to have fun. You're just so—so boring. What kind of normal person does jigsaw puzzles for fun? What grown ass man crochets?!"
Those things helped with my anxiety. "It's calming." I argued.
Jeremy shook his head in disgust, fixing his jacket and turning to leave the shop. "If you end up alone the rest of your life, it won't surprise me."
That had hurt, and I felt sad, suddenly, because I didn't want to be alone the rest of my life, and the way things were going, I would be.