Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

I didn't see Trace for the next few days as he, his mom and his sister prepared for their performance at the Japanese festival that was taking place at a local convention centre. It was the reason why his parents had travelled to Canada to begin with, and his mom took her career very seriously. When I asked, Trace explained his mom had started out in traditional Japanese drama theatre then moved into the Japanese music theatre world and finally became something of a pop star. At some point early on in her career she'd lived for two years in France at a prestigious ballet school which explained her French.
All that to say Trace's mother was obsessive with maintaining her voice, and since Trace and Nalini were performing with her she wanted them on vocal rest and living healthy lifestyles, too, if only for the few days before their performance.
Over those few days, me and Trace texted but didn't talk on the phone and I was so busy apartment hunting, and figuring out a plan for my YouTube channel with Manny that it was okay to be away from Trace.
Then, it was the day of the festival, and Trace's dad, Nasim, came to pick me up and drive me to the convention centre. He was easygoing and I was glad to have company.  He even  admitted he'd seen my baking channel.
"Oh," I said as I squirmed in my seat, "did Trace tell you about it?"
The rental car was big and spacious but it still took me some time to adjust the height and positioning of the passenger side seat. Cars were never especially comfortable for me but this one wasn't too bad.
Nasim frowned as he watched me fidget for a moment. "My son really introduced himself to you with that name?"
"He did," I said as I unbuckled and rebuckled my seat belt, trying to introduce some more slack to the belt so I could breathe.
"We went to the trouble of giving him two wonderful names and he insists on that childish nickname," Nasim said more like he was talking to himself.
"Is it Noor Ryuunosuke? And he goes by his mother's last name?"
Nasim smiled. "Yes, we knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to give the children my last name since we were raising them in Japan, but we all have the letter N."
I realized he was right, Nasim, Noor, and Nalini. "Was it hard," I said softly, "as an immigrant in Japan?"
It took a moment for Nasim to reply, "Japan is a wonderful country where I met my wife and where we raised our children but I am not high on the list of tolerable gaijins. Though, I come from wealth, and money always opens doors. In that respect, I had it a lot easier than others. But I understand why Noor wants to stay here." Nasim gave me a significant look, but I felt a bit confused by it.
"So, he's not ever going back to Japan?" I figured it was because of his company but Nasim's responses were making me think it was more complicated than that.
"Perhaps to visit but never to live, no. I did the same when I met Toru, so it isn't uncommon in our family." He gave me another of those significant looks and it started to bother me.
"It's not as though he's staying in Canada because of me," I said quickly, "I mean, he has his company here and he's a permanent resident and Nalini is here."
"He's still a citizen of Japan, and hasn't he told you of the job offers he's gotten from major Japanese video game companies? One of them wanted to make an Indie game subsidiary and use him as creative lead."
I stilled. "What?"
"Oh, wait—didn't he...shit. I've gone and opened my big mouth, haven't I?"
"I mean... He wouldn't make such a big decision because of me. Right?" I turned to Nasim for some reassurance but none was forthcoming.
Nasim suddenly didn't have anything to say.
"How much does he even talk about me to you? Does he tell you a lot?" My breathing started to come a little fast and I realized I needed to get out of the car. "Can we stop?"
He cut me a quick look, and disapproval coloured his tone, "Darius, we've still aways to go."
My hand started to itch towards my seatbelt and Nasim swore in a language I didn't understand before he turned into the parking lot of a Tim Hortons. Before he even finished parking I was up and out of the car, heading inside the coffee shop.
My mother had always told me that if I was using an establishment's facilities I should buy something first. I always kept some change in my pockets and I ordered a chocolate croissant, even though I wasn't at all hungry, before heading to the accessible washroom.
I stood in there and stared at myself in the mirror hating the way I was. I tried to tell myself to calm down but it never worked that well. So, I did my deep breathing and my counting and focused on the fact I was alone and no one knew that I was a freak when I was by myself. Except Nasim who probably thought I was trying to jump out of a moving vehicle like a completely unhinged and crazy individual who had no regard for Nasim's personal safety nor my own and was probably plotting to display to him just how much of a completely unhinged and crazy individual that I was. I started to sweat so I dabbed my forehead with some paper towels. I could tell I was heading to a bad place so I put a bunch of paper towels on the floor and sat there, before pushing my head between my knees and closing my eyes.
I felt like crying or throwing up as every panic stricken moment got more and more intense. My phone buzzed and through my bleary eyes I noticed it was from Trace.
Really excited to see you at my performance today, Darius. <3
And then there was an attached picture of Trace all dressed up in a blue, gold and black kimono. He had a fan extended and covering half his face. I could see Nalini and his mother in the background laughing about something.
I thumbed out a reply, very excited to see you on stage!
I loved Trace. I knew that, and yet the thought that he would stay in another country because of me terrified me. If it was true it meant that Trace didn't see discussing his future with me as something worthwhile. That wasn't the kind of relationship I wanted.
Then, I got up, still sniffling and breathed longer and slower. I washed my hands and my face, then my hands again until I felt like they stopped shaking.
It took a few minutes but my heart stopped racing and I finally felt calm enough to leave the bathroom. I hadn't had a panic attack but it was such a near thing I felt a little exhausted.
When I got out, I saw Nasim sitting at a table nearby the washroom. He looked relieved when I came out.
I sat awkwardly at the table and started to nibble at my croissant. It tasted a little stale but I just needed to do something with my hands. I tried to work out an apology but the words wouldn't come out.
"Forgive me for causing you discomfort, it was not my intention. I have such a poor filter."
"It's okay," I mumbled at the table, "it's fine."
"I'll apologize to Noor for making you—"
My head shot up. "Please, don't tell him. He'll worry. And I'm fine. It's just—" I stared down at the table. "stomach problems. I'm fine now."
"Does he know you have...stomach problems?" Nasim inquired gently.
"He knows," I said quietly, "and I'm sorry about the car. I shouldn't have done that. I just really needed to get out of there. I wasn't actually going to open the door."
Nasim didn't look like he believed me but he didn't push. He got up and came back a moment later with some tea. He pushed the paper cup towards me. "You should drink something warm, Darius," he said politely.
I drank down the nearly scalding tea and nodded. "I think I'm ready to go now. Thank you for waiting. And thank you for the tea."
Nasim frowned but stood up and we made our way back to the car. He got into the driver's seat and we continued the rest of the ride in silence.
#
The convention centre had an auditorium that was packed to complete fullness and there were even cameras and reporters there documenting the event live to Japan. It seemed like Trace's mom really was a big celebrity. A few people even seemed to recognize Nasim, but only as Toru's husband.
Both me and Nasim sat in a box seat on the side of the auditorium. It gave us a great view of the stage and I liked that I didn't have to worry about blocking anyone's view. To my surprise, a slender Asian man met us at the booth.
He was several inches shorter than me, like most people, but he moved like a dancer. "Hey, I'm Kevin, Nalini's boyfriend. Nice to meet you."
I shook his hand, recalling that Trace had told me Nailini was seeing someone. I wondered if he was Japanese but my question was answered when he greeted Nasim in fluent Japanese. For the first time I wondered if being with Trace meant I had to learn Japanese, too.
The event wasn't just a song or two but an entire concert. There was a band with East Asian instruments in the background as well as Trace and Nalini on the side serving as backup singers. Everyone on stage was dressed in kimono and there was such excitement in the air that I was excited, too.
Trace's eyes roved over the crowd and when he saw me and his father in the box seat, he smiled and waved. But then Nalini elbowed him and he stopped smiling. I realized it was because the concert was about to start.
Toru Tsuchida cleared her throat softly and immediate silence filled the auditorium. She started to speak in Japanese, and the soft voice I'd heard the past few days was gone. Today her voice was full and almost deep as she went about introducing her fellow performers. Nasim did some translation for me but his eyes were tracked right on his wife. It was obvious that he enjoyed watching her and his eyes were bright with attention. He must have seen her perform countless times but right then his reaction was as mesmerized as I'm sure the first time had been.
The concert started with a solo and I was shocked at Toru's voice. It was shockingly clear and sounded similar to when Trace decided to sing in the higher range. But fuller and so big I didn't think she'd need a microphone.
The entire concert was like that, just wonderful music, nearly all exclusively in Japanese with effortless, graceful Toru as the lead.
But the finale was a bit different, and this time Trace took the lead. He talked into the microphone and Nasim translated for me, telling me that they were going to perform a lullaby that had a big role in their family because his mom was descended from burakumin and I realized belatedly it was the lullaby Trace had sung to me before.
Trace sat at what looked like some kind of zither and propped the microphone on a stand before he started to sing while plucking the strings. It was different than how he'd sung it to me before, not quite as tender but sung in a much stronger voice. It was so beautiful, it made my heart hurt and I saw more than a few people in the audience actually crying. Soon, Nalini joined in to harmonize with him and then finally Toru did and the three of them sang together until the song was over.
I felt like I was the first person to start clapping but it didn't take more than a second for loud, raucous applause to fill the entire auditorium.
#
"You were so good," I said shyly, in Trace's dressing room after the show. The room had lights all around the mirror, an attached ensuite and a rack with the kimono Trace had worn.. There were moments when Trace seemed to be used to the finer things in life and this seemed like one of those moments. He was propped up on a chair and removing some show make up from his face. After the show he and his family had done interviews, talked to reporters and met with some fans before it was all finally over and he'd gone to his dressing room. I'd found so much of it overwhelming but it only made Trace more incredible in my eyes: he was gorgeous, and talented and so good to me, I didn't know what to do with myself.
Trace looked up at me and grinned. "Thanks." He'd changed into a yukata that exposed his feet and ankles. He always looked hot, but even now, more so, right after his concert. The energy of the show had invigorated him and he looked flush with excitement. Trace being so talented also did a lot to make me feel honoured to even share the same space with him.
"Can I kiss you?" I asked, so embarrassed but wanting him closer.
Trace blinked and looked up at me, a small smile on his face. "Yeah, of course, baby."
He moved towards me, somehow managing to walk on his funny looking shoes he'd called geta. The back of his foot hung over the edge but he told me that was normal and they weren't too small for his feet. They looked supremely difficult to walk in but he was managing it expertly. The height of the shoes brought him closer to my height and Trace wrapped his hands around my neck before kissing me slowly. He moaned into my mouth as he licked and sucked on my tongue. He pressed even closer against me and I could feel his piercings rub against my chest.
"I love you, Darius, thanks for coming to my show."  Trace leaned his head against my throat and hugged me.
"I love you, too, Trace," I said quietly, so proud of him but unable to express it. "And you were so good today. So amazing. I mean, all of you were. But you especially. You were my favourite."
Trace seemed to understand my ramblings because he held me, as he swayed from side to side and hummed the song he had long ago sung for me. He kissed me on the cheek when he was done and smiled.
"Okay let's actually enjoy ourselves at the festival, now," he said excitedly.
A part of me wanted to ask him what Japanese company had offered him a job, and if him being in Canada had anything to do with him but that felt horribly wrong in the moment. So I kept quiet.
After the show, we all split up and attended the festival in our own little couple groups.
There were a number of activities that I did with Trace, and lots of carnival games. Trace was stopped a few times by people who had watched the concert. He said yes to a few pictures but no to most. After a bit of time he put on a baseball cap and some sunglasses and we were relatively unbothered.
Trace bought so much food, and little items I was worried for his wallet. He had a large basket that he was carrying everything in and we made two stops at the rental just to empty out his basket.
But he left most of the food in his basket and we headed to the cafeteria to eat.
"If you think this is a lot of spending wait for when I go to comic con." His voice was shy all of a sudden, "we can go together if you want."
I laughed. "I don't mind going with you. You don't have to convince me."
"Maybe we could cosplay together—" Trace began hopefully.
"Cosplay as what?"
"Give me some time to think about it," he said seriously, "I'll figure something out. It's gonna be bad ass. Oh and take a picture of me." He tossed me his phone like it wasn't worth a thousand dollars and posed demurely with his basket.
Trace looked really cute in his yukata, and smiled happily. I took a few pictures, sending a few to my phone for safekeeping. I handed him back his phone and Trace took it before stopping someone in the crowd.
It was a young Asian couple and Trace gave a megawatt smile. "Sorry to interrupt but can you take a picture of us?"
The couple looked panicked for a moment and started to stammer before Trace held his phone out further and spoke in Japanese. They smiled, laughed and spoke quickly before taking his phone.
Trace took me by the arm and stood beside me. "Okay, just put your hand behind my back and smile, baby."
He stood way closer to me than friends would and despite the fact we weren't doing anything intimate there was no question we were a couple. Normally, I would find subtly outing myself in such a public space terrifying. But in the moment, I just liked standing close to Trace, smelling his hair and taking pictures with him.
It wasn't longer than a few minutes but Trace got lots of poses in. One with my arm over his shoulder. One with me holding the basket. One with us angled differently. One without smiles. One with smiles. One without us laughing. One with us laughing.
Afterwards, Trace bowed and thanked the couple. I didn't understand Japanese but they clearly recognized him and then I was the cameraman. But then, they invited me into the shot and we were all taking selfies.
Trace managed to excuse us, and then we were on our way to the cafeteria. He was on his phone scrolling through the pictures we'd just taken. I leaned over his shoulder and noticed he'd managed to hide his prosthetic in several shots. It was slightly tilted to the side in some, or the photo was only taken from the torso up. But otherwise Trace looked great, and unbelievably hot.
"How do I look?" he asked.
"You look amazing in all of them."
Trace's eyes softened. "Oh really?"
"Yeah, you look cute."
He smiled softly and bumped my shoulder. "If we were alone I would show you my appreciation. But, can I post some pics of us to my social media? I mean, you're my boyfriend, and I use social media a lot. I have a private account, and a public one but I'd want to post to both. You can say no."
Us being together wasn't a secret and I didn't really mind if he posted. I didn't use the same platforms as him and I wouldn't see it. But lately, Baking Beasts had been trying to get all of us to create social media accounts. I'd been holding my ground but maybe it would be worth having an account to keep up with Trace.
I touched his back and rubbed a wide circle. "I don't mind, Trace."
He looked up at me and his eyes were big and wide. He licked his lips before replying. "Okay."
We finally got to the cafeteria and Trace had fun laying out our meal on the table before we dug in. Trace was usually much more controlled about his portions but he called that day a cheat day.
Afterwards, Trace's family all met up together and we went home.  The day was good but exhausting and when we all piled into Nasim's rental I was quick to fall asleep on the way home.
#
The days passed and then it was Thanksgiving. I was less of a nervous wreck than before but I was still nervous to bring Trace face to face with my family.
I worried for nothing. Trace was usually a serious man but he knew how to turn on the charm. The best thing he did when he met my mom was introduce himself to her in French and not use any English loan words or English phrases while communicating with her.
My mother started off icy but her demeanour warmed as Trace complimented her cooking, and her home. He also used all the correct names I'd taught him over the months for her ethnic dishes. He was even winning me over a bit and I already liked him.
My mother was used to serving large portions because everyone in our family had large appetites and Trace practically licked his plate. Him eating her food was another box ticked for my mom. It was sad that I could tell she already liked Trace more than Victoria, Cyrus' wife.
She asked all the questions Trace's mom had asked me only the week before. Yes, Trace was two years older than me. Yes, people had jobs making video games. Yes, Trace was one of the owners of the video game company. Yes. I suppose that did make him a business owner. Yes, Trace was born in and raised in and had lived for most of his life in Japan. Yes, Trace was now a permanent resident of Canada but he had no plans to officially be an immigrant. Yes, he knew Cyrus was in the NBA. No, we hadn't met because Trace thought I was Cyrus. Yes, Trace was a university graduate. Yes, he knew I got nervous sometimes and he was okay with it. My mother's tone was shrewd but by the end of it she nodded in approval.
My father and Trace talked about basketball and some other sports they both followed.
At the end of the evening my parents even offered for him to sleep over but he politely declined.
"It's really been so nice having you," my mother told Trace, "you're much more outgoing than Darius and I think someone like that is good for him."
"I'm standing right here, mom,"  I said loudly.
She rolled her eyes and ignored me. "He needs to go out more and I hope you get him moving. He stays in the house, much. Take him out, will you? He loses weight just by breathing so you have to make sure he eats...He gets it from my side of the family. It's so hard for us to put on weight. Cyrus didn't inherit the trait which is why he's so big. Speaking of Cyrus, have you met his brother? He doesn't come home often enough and I worry about my grandson. CJ's French could stand to be better. You speak such lovely French, Trace, what other languages do you speak?"
It was so strange seeing my mother be nice to someone she barely knew. But Trace had done it. He'd efficiently thawed her out. But it was easy to see what my mother liked about Trace. He was eager to please her, he was making an effort and he was speaking one of her native languages.
Trace held out his hand. "My native language is Japanese because of my mother, Bangla because of my dad, a bit of Hindi, I leaned English in school and learned French when I lived in Montreal some years ago."
My mother's smile was proud and when she looked at me it broadened. "That is so wonderful. I'm so glad you and my son are together. Maybe in a few months when Cyrus moves to Toronto we can do something with the whole family."
My mother packed some left overs for Trace and some for me before sending us on our way.
"I think she likes me," Trace said when we got back to his place and he was putting the left over containers in his fridge.
"You're right," I said absently, a little bothered by how much I felt like kissing him and how much I felt like I was unable to. For some reason I thought that with time I could touch Trace more without being prompted to buy if anything I felt like I couldn't do much if he didn't initiate first.
It had been months of us being together and it should've been so easy for me to touch his back or run my fingers through his hair.
I was silent for too long and a moment later, Trace turned to me and put his hands on my chest. "What's wrong, baby?"
Trace's hair was just getting longer even though he usually wore it in a low bun. When it was just us he put on a headband and left his raven silk hair out. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and maybe braid it. But how was I supposed to say all that or even do all that?
"Nothing," I lied, feeling guilty, "just tired, I guess."
Trace searched my face for the truth and when he didn't find it, he frowned. "Okay."
#
I had a week free between jobs where I was vehemently hunting for apartments. So many of them were out of my budget, or far too small or had ceilings so low as to be illegal. I'd really lucked out with my previous apartment and it had been spoiling me.
My lease was nearly up and Trace had even gone to the trouble of helping me look for spots. I'd created a zone of places I was comfortable living in and they were equidistant to work, to
Trace and to Manny.
It was the day before I was set to start at Isaac's restaurant and I was supposed to be relaxing but instead I was looking at an apartment.
The landlord was an older White woman and her attitude made me nervous. Trace talked to me in French and the woman interrupted in English whenever he started a sentence. Despite her attitude the place was kind of perfect.
"My husband was very tall so everything in the apartment is set a bit high," she explained shortly when she started the tour.
And it was such a comfortable height for me that I grinned. The kitchen had been redone with high counter tops, the doorknobs were set higher on every door and the unit had one full bathroom and a half that didn't have a shower head. It was only one bedroom but it came with a den that would be an amazing crafting space for me.
"This place is amazing," I said to her.
Her constant frown eased for a moment. "It's strange but you sound exactly like my husband. Well, we'd divorced several years ago and he passed away last year but he left me this apartment for some reason. I never knew what to do with it. It's uncomfortable for most people, because everything was made for his measurements. It's just eerie how similar your voices are." She frowned again but I realized it wasn't that she disliked me but she just seemed stressed.
That was when I realized I must be making her sad. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, "I didn't mean to—"
"No," she interrupted, "it's okay. We divorced so long ago. I got remarried and so did he. But, Jack was always—well maybe he didn't move on as much as I thought he did. Anyways, the apartment is yours if you want it."
"I have a specialty made bed, since I'm so long, will it fit through these doors?"
"Jack had all the door frames made wider and higher and got specialty doors put in." She stepped closer to me and looked up. She looked like she was in her early fifties but when she frowned the lines in her face turned to crags and it made her seem so much older. "Yes, he was about your height, too. A bit heavier set. Would you two like to see a picture?"
"Yes," Trace answered for the both of us.
The woman pulled out a slender smartphone and scrolled through her pictures until she showed us, to my surprise, a wedding picture. A very tall man and a small, heavily pregnant woman all dressed in white were standing at a courthouse podium together.
"It was a shotgun wedding," she explained softly.
"You guys made a lovely couple," I said politely even though I understood it clearly hadn't gone well.
"I think we'll take a look around," Trace said before steering me away from the living room and towards the bedroom. He closed the door gently and turned on me. "Just take it, Darius. It's nice. A ten minute walk to work. Closer to my place than the last place and did you see the bath tub? We can both fit in there."
"I haven't been able to take a bath comfortably in years," I admitted softly. I always had to fold my legs up just to fit.
Trace looked sad. "I know you don't like me talking about your body, but it's not fair how everything is too small for you. Can't you imagine yourself in that kitchen? Not hunching or bending awkwardly? And I'd help you search for some nice furniture, or we could get it specially made? So that this place can be really comfortable for you."
"We?" I stammered.
Trace flushed and dropped his gaze. He reached towards me and squeezed my hand. "Baby, are you listening?"
"Yes, Trace, I'm listening. I'll tell her I'll take it."
And I did. She gave me a good deal on rent and after I signed all the papers and the lease I felt happy. Trace and Manny agreed to help me move for later that week
#
The next day my uniform for Isaac's new restaurant was white, crisp and it fit perfectly. I was used to being in a world that was made for average sized people. I was used to ducking under especially low doorways, sewing my own clothes so things could actually fit me well and trying to push away a world that saw me as freakish.
But right there on my first day at my new job, I was given a uniform that fit me perfectly and somehow it was telling me that even if not all the world accepted me...I could be accommodated.
The perfect fit brought tears to my eyes and I sniffled. It was such a stupid thing to be touched by. But I was touched anyways. I assumed Isaac got my measurements through Baking Beasts and for the first time in a long time, I was happy I'd gone on the show.
I composed myself and left the men's change room at the restaurant to start the first day at my new job.
#
I came home that day exhausted but happy, even though I wasn't able to see Trace that night. He was watching a premiere of one of Nalini's prrformeeances.
It had taken me an embarrassingly long amount of time to ask what it was Nalini did. Trace had said offhand that she was a ballerina and I was shocked. He'd told me she was the second highest ranked ballerina in the company and that night she was understudying for the lead part. I was struck by all the talent everyone in Trace's family had.
But that night after my first day, I was on my own that evening and I settled in to work on a sewing project. There were a sweater that Trace wanted from some kind of fancy store that didn't ship to Canada.
I was listening to some music and working at my machine when my phone rang and I picked it up and put it on speaker without checking who called. I expected to to be Trace.
"Hey," I said, voice warm and soft, "how was your day?"
There was a pause over the line and then a deep laugh. The sound immediately struck me as Carter. "Somehow I don't think that was meant for me." There was a smile in his voice and it confused me.
My tone changed. "Carter."
It was just his name but he sighed. "Darius, I'll ask once, okay? Just once..."
"Carter," I said again, firmly this time. My palms were sweating and he was freaking me out. "Trace is amazing and smart and funny. And really great. Really, really great. He's incredible. Completely and utterly incredible."
"So are you," Carter said low and soft, his voice sounding so big on the phone. It felt like it was filling up
The space between my ears and crashing against my brain. "I wish we hadn't broken up. You would've been okay with the long distance right?"
"I still think we should've broken up. You did everything for me all the time. It wasn't healthy. And— I didn't like it."
"I took care of you, Darius." Carter sounded affronted, as if I'd wounded him. "We were happy," he announced."
"What's your question?" I said sharply, finding myself impatient. He never listened and he always thought he knew best. His arrogance was pissing me off.
He paused. "Is it serious?"
"Is it— Wow." I let out a big breath. "It's the most serious relationship I've ever been in in my life. You know Trace said you'd try to—to do this. But I didn't believe him. It took weeks since that incident at the bar but you did call. I didn't think you'd try to do something like that. I thought you had more respect and decency. And that was always the problem, Carter. You always think you're right! But you're not."
"Babe, don't sound like that— you sound like you hate me. I just wanted to be sure...can't you understand that? Can't you understand wanting to know if the love of my life is really off limits?"
I shook my head. "I'm not your babe." I didn't even know how to approach that Carter thought I was the love of his life. It brought a terrible lump to my throat.
"Is he even right for you? Yeah, he's hot, but you need someone who can make all the hard choices and guide you. I was so good at that, Darius. I can still be good at that. My job is stable now and I'm right in the city. None of it would have to be hard for you. I can make things so easy for you. For us."
Was that how he'd seen me our entire relationship? "I make my own hard choices, Carter. I—I—I go to therapy now, and I live on my own and I don't need anyone to be in charge of my life. Just because you were my first doesn't mean you own me. No one owns me. Maybe things are harder for me than most people but that doesn't mean I need to be handled. I don't need anyone to h-handle me."
"I didn't mean it like that," Carter back-pedalled. But he had. I knew that he had.
"I'm hanging up," I said right before doing just that.
I sat back in my chair and knuckled my suddenly bleary eyes. Was that how everyone saw me? Some limp noodle that needed to be escorted and handled with kid gloves all the time? Is that what Carter had liked about me? My eyes blurred. Is that what Trace liked about me, too?
I had to admit there were aspects of the both of them that were similar. The confidence, the way they seemed to wade through life, and the fact both of them were leaders. But was I always going to be a follower?
I felt insecure and stupid and stilted from my call with Carter and before I knew it I was dialling Trace. I didn't know why, but I just needed to hear his voice.
He didn't pick up on the first ring, or the second but halfway through the third he picked up. I felt like I'd had so much to say until that moment.
"Uh— Hi," I mumbled, "am I bothering you? I'm probably bothering you."
"Baby," Trace said in a low voice, "you're never bothering me. But, this is late for you. You're normally sleeping by now."
"Well—" and before I could stop it I just unleashed everything Carter had said to me and how I really felt about my first relationship and how I worried about how people saw me and how I just wanted Trace to see me as an equal.
Trace paused for a long time before saying anything. But when he did, his voice was serious, "Can I come over?"
"Sure," I said softly, "okay."
"I have a lot to say and it's better in person. But the first thing I will say is that I do view you as an equal. And I'll try to reassure you more of that in future. But, Darius...I wish—"he cut himself off so abruptly I thought he'd hung up. "I wish you would touch me more." Trace said quietly, his voice forlorn and hurt.
Immediate guilt swarmed me and I realized Trace had definitely noticed I rarely initiated any forms of casual or intimate touches with him. "I— uhm...I wasn't expecting you to say that," I said lamely.
"I'll drive over and we can talk about it some more, alright? I think we both have a lot of things to say."
I managed to mumble some kind of affirmative and then I hung up. There were so many thoughts in my head I needed to get out and I hoped I could finally express myself to Trace.