Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 26: Chapter 26

"You have to breathe, okay? That's the first thing you have to do. You're so creative and smart. So you can get through this. Even if it's hard. It cannot break you," someone was talking near me. It took me a second to recognize the voice as my father's. "You still have ninety minutes, okay? It's not the end. We can breathe together."
Then, my dad was on the floor with me, knees creaking as he sat down.
"Your mother and Cyrus are taking care of the cameras, okay? Just be here with me and breathe. Let's count together." My dad's voice was soft. He'd done this many times with me and the familiarity was as embarrassing as it was soothing.
We counted together for several seconds until the breaths started to come easier and then he patted me on the back. "Don't let this lady think it's okay to take advantage of you."
Soon, the both of us were standing and that's when I started to regain my awareness of what was happening. Mary Lou was still cooking, and my mother and Cyrus were arguing animatedly with both Richard and Aditya.
My mother hovered over both Richard and Aditya, nearly yelling at them. Her accent was something between a West African one and a French one when she spoke English and when she got upset it became significantly stronger.
"You think it's funny, heh?" She said in a stern voice, "you see someone who is upset and you want to gawk? I don't want a single camera facing this way!"
One camera man lowered his camera and looked confused and unsure what to do.
Aditya raised his hands. "You better keep that camera up, Ralph! Mrs.Nkrumah...listen."
My mother turned on Ralph. "You have no shame?!" Then she turned to Richard. "All you are is a show producer and you are determined to make a show! It's pitiful."
Richard tried to get a word in but my mother continued berating him and his response to my distress.
Cyrus looked over his shoulder at me. "Keep going D!"
I turned back to the monumental task before me and sighed. I went back to my station and started spooning out some of my leftover batter into some pans, feeling lucky that I'd made much more than I needed. My family had finally gone back up to the balcony and I was thankful for them and their support even if it came in unexpected ways.
#
"Hands up bakers!" Aditya called out ninety minutes later.
Both me and Mary Lou stepped back from our creations and I was shocked at what I'd still managed to put together.
My biggest issue was that my cakes weren't cold enough before I started to stack them and place the layers. I feared it would soften the other components, make the icing melt, or make the cake lean awkwardly. It wasn't how I envisioned it would be. Not even a little bit.
I'd had to make my cake have a smaller size to make up for the lack of cakes. The layers were also a bit thinner than what I wanted. I'd had to change my design significantly to compensate. All the blown sugar I wanted to use and had practiced was a waste because it didn't make it on the cake. My decorations were mainly buttercream and gum paste, and in my opinion, it was depressing.
The camera guys took various angles of both of our cakes while we did a few key confessionals. The timing made it difficult for me to filter myself because panic attacks exhausted me. Any questions about my meltdown I refused to answer. The idea of me breaking down on TV already made bile rise to the top of my throat. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing my thoughts, too.
I was surprised after my confessional when Dhara came over and gave me a hug. I stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before patting her on the back. It still didn't make sense to me that normal people thought that physical touching was comforting during times of stress but I understood that Dhara was trying to be nice so I tolerated it.
Her hijab today was a vibrant green with a few pink clips holding it together. Her outfit was also less casual, something urban and kind of like streetwear. Baggy pants and a snug long sleeved top. Of course no exposed skin but always fashionable.
"I feel bad for you," she admitted after stepping back. "I was watching earlier and it looked....what she did." Dhara lowered her voice even more, "it looked like she did it on purpose, Darius...and if she did it completely changed the outcome of this entire thing. Me and the other video techs keep reviewing the footage but we can't tell. I'm really, really sorry."
I exhaled sharply and rubbed at my temples. "None of this will change anything. No one will think she did it on purpose. I just want to forget about this entire thing. Winning isn't worth— this."
Dhara called after me but I left the room to prepare for the final deliberation.
#
Mary Lou went first. Her cake was stunning in its own way. It was sleek, elegant and mature.
Mary Lou talked about how the cake represented her journey from baking hobbyist to baking expert. There were a few tears and she was emotional but I personally didn't see where the four hours had gone. Yeah, it was geometric and I'd seen Mary Lou spent time hand painting each of the hexagons but I still wasn't a fan.
I knew though that her cake had a height that mine didn't and it looked much cleaner. On the inside it was a chocolate raspberry truffle cake with Chambourd liqueur, filled with chocolate ganache and raspberry preserve. Mary Lou had made the raspberry preserve with fresh strawberries during the allotted time, too.
I had to admit she'd done a good job, even if I didn't want to. They talked more about her journey and then it was finally my turn.
Outside of ML's cake
Source: /i.pinimg/originals/fc/a5/47/fca547494a5f8f38f251e3143954c341.jpg
Inside:
Source: /carlsbadcravings/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/Chocolate-Raspberry-Cake-main1.jpg
—
Mary Lou murmured good luck to me but I ignored her.
Soon, it was my turn and I came to the realization that this was supposed to be the culmination of all my efforts. This moment was supposed to be reassuring, powerful and emotional for me. But Mary Lou's actions had warped it into something humiliating.
I gestured at my cake. "Well...it's not at all what I wanted to create but remaking some of my cake batter and baking my cakes took up a lot of my time."
Each of the judges nodded sympathetically. I swallowed hard.
"Chin up, D. It still looks amazing!" my brother yelled out from the balcony. He whooped and hollered and I covered my face in embarrassment. But I laughed a little too and I was reminded not to take myself too seriously.
"So, I went back to my childhood," I continued in a stronger voice, "as a kid my mother and my best friend's mom, Carmen, got to know each other because they bonded over gardening. I spent a lot of time as a kid with my best friend, Manny, watering plants, pulling out weeds and being interested in flowers. In a lot of ways this competition has been an opportunity for growth and that's why I chose this design. The cake itself is a blood orange olive oil cake with almond cake, a layer of blood orange mousse, a layer of ground almonds, a layer of citrusy buttercream, and another layer of a chocolate ganache."
Darius' cake exterior:
Source: /i.pinimg/originals/99/bc/f7/99bcf7fc484e19b3502707bd1600d4a7.jpg
Darius's cake's rough interior: *couldn't find a specific picture with the types of layers that Darius had but I'll look for an image that would look similar to D's cake.  The idea is that there's lots of distinctly different fillings.
Source: /chelsweets/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/img_2404-2.jpg
—
I held my breath as I cut into the cake, carving our three generous slices. The first two slices had gorgeous, distinct layers, and the cake looked moist. But the last slice was wonky. Some of the fillings had melted into the cake and something about the cake looked a bit undercooked. Fuck. We weren't allowed to look for the best slices and we could only present what we had.
I brought the slices over to the judge's table and of course the shitty slice went to Aditya. They each took their bites and whispered a little. They swapped plates and took small bites from different parts of the cake.
Aditya gulped down a glass of water before beginning to speak. "Despite the issues you came across with having to remake your first cakes I think this cake is very tasty. The level of detail in your work shows ambition and so does all the different components you included. It's really been nice to have seen you excel throughout this show. But, I can't get past the fact you started to assemble when the cake was still warm. Some of the buttercream and the fillings have melted into the cake. It's just very unfortunate."
I knew I was supposed to feel something. Disappointment directed at myself or maybe rage directed at Mary Lou but I just felt so incredibly numb. Numb and far away from my body.
Isaac and Miranda said their comments but I couldn't process any of it. My heartbeat started to quicken even though my breathing felt normal. I started to count in my mind but something still felt wrong. I came back to my senses even though my heart wouldn't stop beating and I heard the words I'd been dreading. I was losing time as Miranda spoke about how difficult it had been to choose between us but how they'd come to a decision.
She locked eyes with Mary Lou before continuing, "And for all these reasons we'd like to congratulate you, Mary Lou. You are this year's winner of Baking Beasts! You will soon be the recipient of two hundred thousand dollars, the next author of the Baking Beast's winner's cook book, and of course, the Baking Beast's trophy."
I reminded myself that I was supposed to be happy for her because she'd worked just as hard as I had but...she hadn't. And I couldn't be.
So I stood perfectly still and stared at nothing. The feeling of numbness had crawled up and out from my chest until it swarmed across the tips of my fingers and wrapped around the tips of my toes.
Mary Lou was laughing and crying and her family pushed past me to congratulate her. I went off to the side, beyond the view of the cameras and I sat down, just waiting for it all to be over.
#
My family tried to tell me it was okay. The other contestants tried to tell me it was okay. Even Isaac was telling me it was okay.
But, it wasn't.
It felt so wrong to have sacrificed so much of myself for this to be the result. The minutes sloughed away as I made my way to the confessional and Dhara interrogated me for the last time. I couldn't remember what I said. Maybe goodbye?
My parents were going to New Jersey to spend time with Cyrus and his family and they invited me but I said I was catching a flight in a few hours. Cyrus begged me to reconsider but I refused. He could tell I wasn't holding things together well but I didn't want to show my family how much more of a fuck up I was. I don't think I'd ever seen either of my parents shed a single tear and I felt on the verge of breaking down.
But, Manny was there and so the rest of my family left because they knew if he was around I'd be okay. He kept talking to me in Spanish and telling me it was okay and that I'd done a good job and he was proud of me. I didn't really speak Spanish but I understood a lot because of how much I'd been around Manny's family as a kid.
I was quiet as Brian, Alex and Ai said their goodbyes to me. Quiet, as I left the facilities with Manny and, quiet, on the drive to Manny's hotel.
Once we got to the hotel room Manny spoke to me in English, "It's okay, Darius. It's honestly okay."
I shook my head, slumping down onto the bed in the hotel room. "I can't get anything right."
Manny frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing me with a hard look. "Mijo, it's like you don't know who you are. You are so fucking incredible. So damn brave. Despite all the fucking shit you've had to deal with."
"I haven't had a hard life, Manny."
"But you have." He sat beside me placed a hand on my back. The touch was gentle and barely there. "I remember you as a kid, Darius. I mean, you were kind of weird."
We both laughed but he continued on quietly, "It takes a lot of bravery to be who you are. Being black, being gay, turning down being a pro athlete, continuing to be passionate about baking... You're such a strong person, mijo. Everything you've done is amazing. And it doesn't stop being amazing just because you didn't win a stupid fucking baking show. Okay?"
I nodded and Manny's hand on my back started to feel comforting. "Okay...But... how am I going to tell Trace?" The words came out broken and malformed.
"Oh, Darius," Manny said softly, "you'll find a way. When is he coming to pick you up?"
My phone beeped and I swallowed audibly. "That's probably him."
Manny stood up. "I'll walk you downstairs. It's weird I haven't even met this guy yet."
We left the hotel room with my bags and soon we were in the lobby. I saw Trace sitting on a couch, and talking on the phone. He saw me and grinned, waving his hand excitedly. But when he saw Manny by my side the expression on his face suddenly became plastic.
When me and Manny went up to Trace, Trace surprised me by giving me a tight hug.
"What's wrong?" He asked quietly, "and who is this?"
Trace was wearing another all black outfit, but this time it was a snug t-shirt, and dark skinny jeans with sneakers. His bronze skin shone and he looked radiant. I wanted to kiss his pouty lips and run my fingers through his hair at the same time I wanted to bury my nose in his throat and just inhale his scent. It was intense and startling. Distracting enough that I forgot I was supposed to be sad.
I shook my head and pushed a smile onto my face. "It's crazy that you two haven't met yet but Manny this is my boyfriend, Trace, and Trace this is my best friend, Manny."
"Nice to meet you, man," Manny said first with a big smile and a hug. "Darius thinks the world of you."
Trace looked surprised before he relaxed into the embrace and nodded. "I think the world of him, too."
They talked for a bit and made tentative plans for the three of us to hang out before Manny urged us to go because in his words, "New York traffic was a bitch." Manny's flight was the next day and he gave me another tight hug when we were saying our goodbyes. "Te quiero, mijo. Keep your head up, okay?"
I blinked a few times in surprise because Manny rarely told me he loved me. I nodded dazedly before leaving the hotel with Trace.
We got into the car and the ride was silent for nearly the entirety of the drive. Trace dropped the rental car off and the we called a taxi to the airport.
"So..." Trace said once we started to check in at the virtual kiosk in the airport concourse. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, please," I said softly, wanting to avoid Trace's disappointment for at least another day.
"You know, whatever it is, I'm still proud of you and this competition doesn't define you. You have magnitudes to how great you are."
God, I just wanted to kiss him. "That's nice of you to say. Uhm. Can I kiss you...later?"
Trace laughed. "You can kiss me now?"
"Not here," I said quickly, "maybe on the plane?"
Trace ran a hand down my arm affectionately. "I'm going to hold you to that, Darius."
It was only when we checked in our bags that I realized Trace had booked first class tickets. The waiting area before the flight was completely different. There was a buffet set up and it made my stomach growl obscenely.
I picked up a sleek black tray, a white plate and started to heap food onto my plate. It looked like Asian fusion takeout food. Trace only grabbed himself a bowl of miso soup and drank from it leisurely as I stuffed my face with fried rice, chicken balls, egg rolls and tempura shrimp.
Trace sighed. "I've really missed you."
I swallowed my mouthful. "Uhm. Same."
Trace looked like I'd declared my undying love for him instead of saying an awkwardly garbled sentence. He had an intensity about him I'd never encountered in someone before and it was both intimidating and really hot.
Trace was honestly really hot. It seemed like absence actually made the heart grow fonder because I was feeling really damn fond.
"I want to do all the things we said we'd do together," I said, "Like the hot chocolate and the big scarf and the pumpkin carving and the Christmas market. I want that if you still want—"
"Of course I still want it," Trace said quickly. His brown eyes were kind. "And whenever you want to talk about the competition I'll be there for you. I won't pressure you but I just want you to know."
Tears pricked at my eyes and I nodded fast. "Thank you," I said thickly.
Trace smiled. "Yeah, well, it's not a big deal since I lo—" he cleared his throat and looked away, running a nervous hand through his hair. "since I care about you."
Trace was blushing and I was blushing and for a moment it was awkward. Then, the both of us laughed and I realized that if I hadn't already been in love with him before, then I probably was now.