Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love

Chapter Fifteen

But, I just couldn't do it. Maybe I had a fucked up brain with an imbalanced neurochemistry but if there was a way to handle it without medication that's what I would choose every time. It wasn't a debate for me, I'd never feel comfortable being on meds. Maybe it's because I was raised by people who barely even believed in mental illness and being gay was one thing but being medicated was another.

My breaths started to come short and I took off my headphones because I started to feel claustrophobic. I heard Yaya pull down the partition and start speaking to me in a soft, and slow voice. It wouldn't be the first time I'd had a panic attack in front of her.

"Baako, mmienu, mmiɛnsa," she paused before we continued counting in Twi together, "ɛnan, enum, nsia, nson, nwɔtwe, nkron."

I felt like I could breathe again and I said the last number, "ten." I swallowed loudly and Yaya patted me on the back.

"Counting works for you, so you should continue doing it. Instead of berating you, I'll try to offer advice. I helped out on the show last season. Do you have a paper and a pencil? Let's write down some ways to prepare you for what's up ahead. I'm rooting for you."

#

"Wow, you're even taller in real life." The man in front of me shook my hand for a few too many seconds before introducing himself as Richard Price; one of the producers for the show. Yaya and I had gotten picked up by the same black escalade and driven to the performance venue for the show. We were apparently the last to arrive and as soon as we got to the premises Yaya had been carted off to be with the other on site mental health professionals, and I had been guided straight towards a producer, and now my luggage lay abandoned in one corner.

I laughed awkwardly at the comment, because I didn't know what else to do when someone brought up my height. By now I should've had something to say and yet I didn't. It was also just awkward and a small corner of my mind would think, that's all anyone sees when they look at you.

The way he looked at me only confirmed it. It was like my height, my size and my blackness were personality traits all on their own. Throughout my childhood  and well into my adulthood I could tell just by someone's tone of voice if they were going to judge me solely for that. It was disappointing but not exactly shocking.

Richard Price was a middle aged white man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in slacks and a loose button down shirt. The first few buttons were undone and considering his age he was in great shape. He had that buffed out, botox imbued appearance that I recognized in Hollywood types.

The producer began by showing me around the state of the art kitchen facilities we would be using. Every station had a gleaming countertop, a stove, oven, sink, and other amenities I didn't have the time to get to know. The brands were ones I'd never be able to afford and there were even equipments I'd never used before. It was intimidating but somehow exciting.