✾ Purple Carnation ✾

It was a Friday, lunchtime. My eyes nervously scanned the room. The mass of people before me made me nervous. At my old school, we ate lunch in subgroups, 'advisor' groups that consisted of like twelve kids max. It was a weird, artsy high school where there wasn't even a huge cafeteria like this. So suddenly shifting to a school with twenty-six thousand undergrads in an urban setting was shocking.

I nervously walked along the exterior of the room, still looking. The sea of faces was overloading my brain. I tried to think of Ren to calm myself down, but only starting thinking about the hot, honestly desperate stirring feeling I'd felt in his embrace only the night before. It was agonizing, and my brain kept cruelly reminding me again and again how I'd promised myself I was going to try to control it. But it was harder than I'd expected. I'd never felt anything like it before, a longing so strong it choked my throat and trickled down to my stomach and lower.

And I couldn't stop thinking about it, about him. I'd been sitting in class and noticed that a girl a few rows in front of me had a flower in her hair. Instinctively, I leaned over to the guy next to me--something in my brain telling me that he was Ren--and nearly pointed out how cute her flower was to a total stranger because I'd wanted Ren to see it and enjoy it, too. I wanted to ask Ren what she was saying in the language of the flowers.

My heart swelled.

"You look like a lost puppy." I blinked and turned around, smiling with relief when I saw who it was.

"I was looking for you," I said. "I was just about to text you."

She giggled. Sallie was wearing tight, ripped black leggings culminating in platform leather boots. Her piercing green eyes were made all the more striking by the heavy black makeup around them. The plaid dress she wore fit snugly around her waist and her straw blonde hair was braided on both sides of her head. I remembered, if only for a flicker of a moment, how different she must have once looked. I marveled at her freedom but remembered quickly the obstacles she faced.

"Didn't mean to keep you waiting, especially because you're so cute!" she said, winking.

I grinned. "I wasn't here long."

"Well, good," she said, taking my hand. "Shall we find a table?"

I glanced around nervously. The thought of sitting down among everyone made me feel a bit dizzy. "Or..." Sallie said. I looked back at her. She appeared concerned. "We could go somewhere quieter?"

I smiled and nodded. "Thanks."

She shrugged. "I get it, Duckling. My sister used to get nervous around crowds, too. It's not so unusual."

"I guess," I muttered, following her out of the cafeteria. I felt my muscles relax the second we stepped out of the noisy hall and the door swung shut heavily behind us. "I don't know."

Sallie smiled, as always. I wondered if she was genuinely happy all the time or if it was just habit, something her lips naturally did when they were idle. "Do you like sweets?" she asked. "I know a little pastry place not too far from here. There might be some students there, but nothing like before."

"Thanks for being so accommodating. I know I'm probably a pain in the ass," I said nervously. Despite how genuinely open and friendly Sallie was, we still didn't know each other too well. I felt as though I were imposing.

Sallie shook her head. "Nah, I'm glad to get off campus anyway. And you're much less of a burden than you think you are."

I blinked twice at that. "What?"

Sallie shrugged as we walked. She swung the door open, and blinding sunlight beat down on us. For a split second, I felt like I was under an interrogation lamp. "I can tell that you're one of those people, hesitant to impose on others because you're afraid you'll be a nuisance." She drew out 'impose' like it was some dramatically foul term, as I had apparently made it out to be.

"How can you tell that?" I asked, slightly offended that she had pegged me so easily.

Another shrug. "I can just tell. I'm good at reading people." She had to duck under a tree branch as we passed, and I followed suit. "Plus, I'm quite good friends with Ren, remember? He may or may not have mentioned something along those lines."

I flushed. "Does he talk about me?"

Sallie smiled again, not saying anything, and I was a bit frustrated with her for it. I wanted her to just tell me whether Ren thought about me, whether he cared about me even close to as much as I cared about him. But she just smiled and said, "Ren's concerned, but he's always concerned. He's a very empathetic person."

"I know. I wonder how he does it," I said.

"Does what?"

"Bears his pain and also everyone else's." I looked at her. "He's the strongest person I know."

Sallie grinned. "He said the same thing about you."

I blushed again and shook my head. "I'm not strong. Pretty sure I'm the exact opposite. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for Ren. He's given me everything, and I've done nothing for him. I can't do anything these days."

"What is it that you want to do so badly? This 'anything.'" Sallie asked. Damn it. It was like she was psychic or something.

I wanted to avoid the question, but my mind wasn't coming up with any excuses beyond 'hang on, I've got to tie my shoe' and that wasn't a great one considering it wasn't even untied. I sighed. The real answer was kiss Ren even though I don't know how, show him how much I feel his pain and am grateful he feels mine, fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. But I said, "My relatives. I feel like there's something I need to say to them, but I don't know what it is. And I'm too scared to go see them to try to figure out what it is." It wasn't a lie necessarily.

"Why are you scared?" she asked.

I swallowed. Woops. If I told Sallie the truth, which was that my relatives had ostracized me because I was gay, she might tell Ren. We'd already established that they talked often and that I had come up in conversation at least once. It wasn't that I didn't want to tell Sallie--she would understand, would listen. I was sure of it. She might even have good advice that could help me. But I didn't want Ren to know.

Shit. I'd said that I would tell him if it came up naturally, though. This was about as natural as it would get. And maybe this was better, after all. I could tell Sallie who would maybe tell Ren, and not have it hanging over my head any longer. I could leave it up to fate, or Sallie, whether Ren found out, and it wouldn't be on me. But then last night had happened. I was ok with telling him if I could assure him also that I could control it, that I wouldn't look at him like that; I wasn't sure I could promise that now, especially not after he told me about his parents and how he loved flowers.

I didn't like being afraid to tell him. It wasn't that I thought he'd reject me or kick me out. It's just that the mere thought that he might maybe in some parallel universe do that to me gave me so much anxiety that the words got stuck in my throat. But more importantly, Ren seemed to have barriers around him that I didn't want to violate if he didn't want it. 

"If it's personal, you don't have to tell me. You barely know me, after all. But I might be able to help," she said, again reading my mind. She stopped walking. "We're here."

I looked up, surprised. "That was a short walk." The sign above us read 'Mille-Feuille.' It was small, but looked quite nice with a lovely purple awning and flowers that perfumed the air. They mixed wonderfully with the scent of the bakery.

Sallie opened the door and held it open for me. "Gentlemen first." I smiled. "Got any allergies?" she asked. I shook my head no. She nodded and told me to sit down, heading to the counter to order on her own. I obeyed and watched her from my seat, a small round table by the window, right next to the cute box with the purple violets. Sallie said something I couldn't hear to the girl behind the counter, who promptly nodded and disappeared into the back of the shop.

There were two other customers in the shop, a young woman who was reading a book about Leonardo da Vinci and an older gentlemen who just sat sipping coffee contentedly.

I stared at the assortment of pastries laid out extravagantly behind the shiny glass, marveling at how ingenious humans were to have figured out how to bake such things in the first place. I thought of my mom, recognizing some of the options as similar to the treats she'd once pulled out of our oven back home.

The girl who'd been behind the counter was replaced by a young man moments later, who came out smiling and speaking loudly in French. All I got was Sallie's name. He leaned over the counter, practically jumping over it, to kiss Sallie on the cheek. He...looked familiar. Young, a bit messy looking and unkempt, but handsome.

I watched as the two of them talked rapidly in French. It was a nice language. I wondered if Ren spoke it. It seemed like he might, something so romantic. But maybe he was surprising and spoke something like German. Or maybe just English. That was ok, too.

I came back to earth when I realized that Sallie was gesturing toward me excitedly. The young man's gaze landed on me, following Sallie's exuberant pointing. When his eyes landed on me, I finally recognized him. He was the kid from my philosophy class that first day, the first one who stood up to admit he thought about death. The one who'd given me that weird look when I stood, too, like we were brothers in arms, like there was some sort of connection between us that I didn't see.

He was giving me that look again now. That is, until finally he tore his eyes from me and looked back at Sallie. He seemed distracted now. His French was slow and quiet, as though he was avoiding eavesdropping despite his volume having nothing to do with whether I could understand what he was saying. Sallie laughed at something he said and glanced back at me one more time before she started pointing at things behind the counter. I tried to let the smell of the bakery calm my nerves, warm and soft like mom's kitchen used to smell nearly every day. They'd clearly been talking about me for some reason, and I couldn't shake the way the guy's eyes on me made me feel. Uneasy, but interested.

When Sallie finally joined me at the table, I immediately asked her, "How do you know him?"

She looked at me, seemingly surprised by my interest. "I have a class with him. His name is Amory Dubois. He's from France."

"Why were you pointing at me?" I asked nervously.

She chuckled. "Don't worry. I was just telling him that I was ordering for you and we discussed whether you were a croissant or éclair kind of man."

"What did you decide?"

"Amory decided croissant."

I smiled. "He's right. My mom used to make them all the time. She loved to bake." Suddenly, I felt like I really wanted to tell Sallie about her. "Croissants were her favorite to make, so I loved them, too. But she could make anything and it would come out perfect every time. She worked at a bakery like this one. Didn't own it, but she wanted to."

Sallie sighed. "I wish my mom baked. She can't cook for her life. She tried to make lasagna once and set it on fire."

I laughed. "How is that even possible?"

"Don't know. Burnt noodles?" Sallie shrugged, laughing now, too.

I sighed, glad for the lightness in the air. "Where'd Amory go?"

"Oh, he's getting the fresher ones from the back. It'll be a moment, but it's worth it. The ones displayed have been sitting there for a while," she said.

"You seem to know him well," I said.

"I guess. He dated my sister for a while," she said casually.

"Oh," I said. "Makes sense, then. Glad you're friendly."

Sallie chuckled. "Sure. He's quite nice. And he's also quite interested in you."

I didn't know why, but I blushed. "Interested? Why?"

Sallie's perpetual smile grew wider, even more amused. "What's not to be interested in?"

"Sallie!" I looked up. Here he came, his bouncy brown hair exploding from his head every which way and his thin, delicate fingers curved around two milk white plates. His eyes were alight, a brown that looked almost amber as though someone had lit a lantern in them. He had a certain wild liveliness about him that blew me away. And his eyelashes were unfairly long, the kind everyone wishes they had. 

"Look at how beautiful," he said, setting Sallie's plate down; I thought he'd read my mind as Sallie had, but he was looking at the little cake. His accent was thick and it twisted his words so that he spoke in curlicues. "Beau."

"Yes?" I asked, confused.

He looked at me, confused too. Sallie laughed bells. "Beau means beautiful in French. He wasn't saying your name."

"Your name is 'beautiful'?" Amory smiled, an expression that transformed his entire face. It was an over-the-top smile, a sunbeam of a smile, an explosion of happiness. I felt a little breathless looking at it. "It makes sense."

I blushed again and it made him smile wider, if that was even possible. "Et pour toi, Rouge," he said, placing another small plate in front of me.

I looked up at him, staring at his eyes for perhaps a bit too long. "Thank you," I said, wondering if my voice always sounded like this. I felt like I was melting.

"Sit with us, Amory," Sallie demanded.

"I am working, silly," he protested.

"Fine, but Beau said he wants you to stay for a bit," Sallie said. My eyes widened and a whirlpool swirled in my stomach. Butterflies flew out of it in lopsided, wide circles.

Amory looked at me for a heartbeat, glanced behind him at the counter where the girl had resumed cashier duty, and sighed. He pulled a chair up with one hand and sat backwards in it, draping his arms over the back and resting his head on them. "I will stay for you, then," he said, smiling at me. My soul warbled. "Please eat. Bon appetit."

I liked listening to him talk. I had almost forgotten that we'd gotten food at all. I looked down at the plate and smiled. A beautiful, perfectly shaped, wonderfully warm croissant rested on my plate. It sat on a piece of wax paper with the purple, looping letters Mille-Feuille, reminding me of the way Amory sounded. Yes, his voice was definitely purple. Oh no. More butterflies.

I traced my fingertip along the delicate sprinkling of sugar that made the croissant look like it had been caught in a snowstorm. I tasted the tip of my finger and looked at Amory. "Thank you for making these fresh."

"Of course," he said. "They're better this way. But if you don't eat soon, it'll get cold."

I smiled and nodded. "Hey, have you talked to Eliza recently?" Sallie asked. Amory was still looking at me when he replied. I felt warm underneath his fiery gaze. He had a sort of beauty that you only really noticed up close. For instance, I had only just noticed the ever so faint spill of freckles on his nose. Was he as hesitant to look away from me as I was him?

I was grateful for the interruption of their conversation because Amory's gaze finally left me. I felt like an idiot with saucers for eyeballs and an arrhythmia around this guy. How had I not noticed him in class before? I felt like I hadn't seen him since that first day. I tried not to stare at him and his beautiful fire-lit eyes while he spoke, attempting to instead focus my attention on the croissant before me. I picked it up and took a bite. My eyes welled up immediately and a little sound, half-moan and half-sob, escaped me. I pressed a hand to my mouth, embarrassed.

Amory stopped mid-sentence and looked at me curiously. Sallie raised an eyebrow. "You good, Duckling?"

I nodded, falling back to earth. One bite from Amory's croissant and I was back in my mom's kitchen. I felt like I'd lifted out of my seat and launched into heaven to taste my mom's recipes one more time only to slingshot back into my seat under the scrutiny of two sets of unfairly beautiful eyes. I shook my head. "It tastes like my mom's," I explained. 

Sallie's eyes softened in understanding. "Ah."

Amory still looked confused. Sallie explained for me because I had taken another heavenly, nostalgia-filled bite. "His mom died less than a year ago. She baked."

The French angel smiled at me, and I, for some reason, found myself smiling back. I couldn't help it. The subject of mom's death had surfaced again, emerging from my subconscious where it was always secretly present. But I didn't feel sad somehow. I felt seen. Maybe it was different from usual because she felt closer to me than she had in a while, like Amory had somehow given me a piece of my home, of her back to me.

He reached out and touched my arm. I stared at his hand. It was covered in flour. "Food is memory. I understand. I'm happy it means this much to you."

And suddenly we were gazing into each other's eyes. Is this normal? Is this what it's like for a young gay kid in a big city? Do you just happen across enchanting Frenchmen with doll-like eyelashes and bonfire smiles? More importantly, was this guy flirting with me?

Sallie cleared her throat. I blinked and looked at her, aware of Amory's hand falling from my arm. I took another bite and smiled to myself, a little giddy. "Now that you two lovebirds are done ogling each other, maybe you should get back to work?"

I frowned. Hadn't she asked him to stay only a moment ago? But she was right. If he was supposed to be working, he should be. The girl behind the counter was giving him the stink eye. I nodded. "We shouldn't keep you."

Amory smiled deviously. "Oh, I wouldn't mind if you kept me, but you're right. I should go. Beautiful, will you study with me? I am lost without you." Definitely flirting with me. I felt my heart expand.

"Damn, Amory," Sallie mumbled under her breath.

"Lost in the class, I mean," Amory said, still smiling. "I just can't seem to understand this Descartes business." If I'd said something like he just had, I'm pretty sure my head would explode or steam would come out of my ears. But he said it so smoothly, so easily. It was like love was a second language to him...or a third, rather. I blushed again at that thought alone.
And, I couldn't help it, I thought of Ren. I wanted something this sweet to pass between us. But I had to reel myself in. I had to be content with what I had and hope that I never lost it--I just couldn't lose it.

I found myself agreeing to studying together. Satisfied, he stood. "Magnifique." He winked and returned the chair to its proper place. "On se voit en classe."

I watched him leave for a bit too long before I looked back at Sallie. She was staring at me, smirking. Those freakishly green eyes saw everything. "So you're interested in him, too," she said knowingly.

"I'm not," I said immediately. I wasn't. I didn't really know what interest was, but I knew that if I felt it, I felt it towards Ren. Or maybe...Sallie was right? I could still feel Amory's eyes on me even though he wasn't with us any longer. It's disconcerting to have no grasp of the goings on of your heart of hearts. 

"Well, that's not what that looked like," Sallie said. "I was seriously third-wheeling over here. But word of warning, Amory is a restless kind of soul. I'm only telling you this because--" Sallie took a bite of her little, puffy cake, "--you seem like an all-or-nothing person."

"All-or-nothing?" I asked, finishing my croissant. I held a little funeral in my heart for it, losing that piece of my mom over again. Sadness set in once more. But I remembered that I could ask Amory to make me another any time I like and felt a subtle sense of peace with that knowledge. Amory could whisk me away to heaven to pay a visit to mom, and such an ability was a mysterious, special thing.

And then, like a ten-ton bag of bricks, I remembered what Ren had said the night before. We should bake sometime. My heart squeezed painfully. I've never baked before, he'd said. And I wanted nothing more than to show him how, to teach him the way my mom taught me. All-or-nothing.

"You know," Sallie explained, giving words to my realization, "the kind of person that doesn't go for dalliances but falls, for better or worse, entirely in love. And hard, by the looks of you."

They were quiet for a moment. Another customer walked into the shop. I pushed a crumb around my plate with my pointer finger. "My mom said something like that once..."

Sallie sighed. "Like I said, I'm good at reading people."

I met her eyes as bravely as I could. "After my mom died, I went to my remaining family members and asked them to take me in until I got on my feet. My mom's sister and her husband, their kids. But by then, they'd found out that I was gay. They told me I wasn't welcome. It was a...shout fest. So I went and put my mom's ashes out to sea and decided I didn't have a reason to live any longer."

My heart fluttered. I hadn't spoken to anyone so openly about my sexuality since mom. But if anyone, Sallie seemed like the person to talk about it with. Whether or not it got back to Ren, time would tell. She nodded. "Sounds hard."

"Yeah," I said, appreciating that she wasn't making a big deal of it, wasn't pitying me. "But my uncle seems like a nice guy. He wants to reach out, even if his wife is worried I'll corrupt their impressionable blonde offspring. But he didn't stand up to her, either. I don't know what to do."

"Do you want to talk to him?" she asked.

"Sort of. Maybe," I said. "But I want to do a lot that I don't do."

"Like have sex?"

I almost choked on my spit. "Sallie!" I scolded.

She shrugged. "While I don't enjoy it, that doesn't mean you shouldn't."

I blushed. I thought of last night and wondered if my body knew what to do even if I didn't. It had seemed eager enough. The thought of the possibility made my skin feel too tight, like if I could just get it over with I would finally have room to grow and expand. I could shed this painful version of me. But I didn't want it to be something I just had to get on with. I wanted it to be an all-or-nothing, desperate, hungry love affair. I wanted it to be precious, a night I'd remember forever. God, Sallie was right. How terrifying.

"Listen, Duckling. Life is short. Get on with it, yeah, but live it. Don't waste it."

My jaw dropped, and I stared at her. "Are you psychic? Tell the truth."

She shrugged and, as usual, smiled. "Perhaps."

A breeze tickled the violets beside our table. I wondered if Ren was going to find out that I was gay soon. I wondered what he was going to think or say or do.

"But there's some piece of your puzzle missing, Beau. I think I lost it under the couch or something, and you don't make sense without it."

It was my turn to smile. "I'll help you look."

She shook her head. "Nah." Another smile. "I'll find it."