Chapter 16 Reign
Lydia pulled up her email and started drafting messages to get ahead of Megumi’s pettiness: the head of the Art Department’s mentor program, Megumi’s cousin, who worked in the leasing office, her personal student adviser, and the general counseling office notifying them of the potential change in her living arrangements.
She’d talk to Riley about crashing on her couch if she had to move out before the end of the month or before anyone could find her other housing.
“I don’t know when Cami’s coming back, but I think I’ll have a long shift, so don’t wait up. Thanks, Meg’! You’re the best!”
Lydia slipped on her shoes and headed out the door, grinning even as her eyes stung. She forced herself to drink the stupid shake even as she couldn’t taste it and hurried down the steps, humming the whole way.
The commute passed in a blur of memories from the past three years. Ken and Megumi’s moans pushed and shoved her thoughts away, churning her stomach. She wished there was such a thing as brain bleach.
At the entrance to the campus, she disembarked and shuffled down the long road leading to the main inner road where the shuttle ran. She reached the nearest shuttle station and came to a stop. It wasn’t until the burning in her eyes had slipped down her cheek that she realized she was crying.
“Are you okay?”
Lydia looked up at the warm, melodic voice coming toward her. She didn’t recognize her at all. She would have remembered seeing a woman with such striking features before. Her eyes had a slight tilt to them, and her eyelashes were exceptionally long and thick, like she'd gotten the extra-lengthening mascara’s pro version or watched a lot of beauty videos. Maybe she wore lashes.
Her complexion was a smooth, even brown that glowed in the fading sun. She looked to be about Lydia’s age, with a distinct nose and full lips painted in gloss. Compassion warmed her deep brown eyes as she approached slowly. She had her hair up in a curly bun and wore jeans and a plain t-shirt. A messenger bag that looked like it had seen better days bumped against her thigh.
“Is there someone I can call for you? Do you need help?”
Lydia sniffled, shaking her head. “No. I…” She cleared her throat. “I’m just having a bad day.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, scanned her once, then decided to sit beside her, though it looked like she had been on her way to somewhere.
“Sorry for worrying you.”
“Sistas should stick together, especially when in low numbers.”
Lydia let out a startled laugh, watching her rummage around in her bag before producing a small package of tissues and offering them to her.
“Take them. I’ve got extra.”
“Thanks.”
“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a great listener.”
Lydia dabbed at her eyes and sniffled. “No… I’ll just get mad, and I really need to pull myself together before I go to work. Tears don’t get good tips.”
She hummed. “No, they don’t… Let me see…” She dug into her bag again and pulled out a tube of mascara, a thermos, and a few paper towels. She opened the thermos, shook out a few ice cubes, wrapped them up, and handed them to her. “This should help with the swelling.”
“Thanks,” Lydia chuckled, sighing at the coolness over her eyes. “You’re kind of like a fairy godmother right now.”
“Whitney, I hope.”
Lydia grinned. “Absolutely.”
“Keep the mascara, too.”
Lydia shook her head. “I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
Her eyes brightened. “Can I teach you? For the sake of tips?” She opened her bag. “I’ve got unopened lipgloss, stain, the works.”
“Are you a makeup artist?”
She laughed. “Not at all. I’m a makeup disaster. The only thing I’m good at is applying mascara.” She rolled her eyes. “But it doesn’t do much for me, so I never bother.”
“Your lashes are usually like that?”
She shrugged. “Genetics. I’d trade them to get rid of those genes, but we play the hand we were dealt.”
Lydia scowled. “I know that feeling.”
“Shit sperm donor?”
“Shittiest.”
“Your mom?”
Lydia grinned. “She’s the best.”
The woman nodded. “Glad to hear it. So, where is work? Pay well? Hiring?”
Lydia grimaced. “Blue Kudu, pays, and not hiring yet, but I wouldn’t suggest working there. Manager’s a handsy creep and… no offense, but you don’t pass the paper bag test. It would be way worse than what I have to deal with.”
She hummed. “I wish a motherfucker would, but probably for the best that I haven’t had to look for a job like that.” She eyed Lydia. “Has he put his hands on you?”
Lydia shook her head, but part of her knew that the longer she worked there, the more likely it was not yet.
She nodded. “Well, if you need help getting rid of a body on the island. I know a few good spots, and I’ve got a big, strong friend who hates creeps.”
Lydia laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She dropped her gaze. “You know, I… I think this is like the first time I’ve run into another Black woman on campus outside of the athletes.”
And they didn’t really seem open to talking to her anyway.
“We are a rare breed,” the woman hummed. “That’s a shame. Are you a senior?”
“Rising.”
“You don’t have a mentor?”
Lydia huffed. “With a mentor like her, who needs enemies?”
She tutted and pulled out her phone. “Well, my mentor is awesome. I’ll link you up with her. You’re trying to get out of your current mentorship situation, right?”
“I sent a message about it.”
The woman offered her phone with a contact pulled up.
“Dani?”
“It’s what she goes by. Send yourself her contact, and I’ll get us a group chat. Even if you can’t have her as a mentor, she’s a great resource.”
Lydia nodded and took her phone, typing in the number. Her lips twitched into a smile.
“I was just thinking that my mentor was like an apology for not having my brother, but I think she was just a holdover.”
“I don’t know what she did, but you’re probably right.”
The shuttle rolled toward them.
“Where are you headed?”
“Home.” She stood. “But I’ll walk with you to work. You might change your mind about that mascara, and I don’t think my place is all that far.” She gestured to Lydia’s hair. “Hair all cute and no glam? Glam always gets tips.”
Lydia laughed. “Had to escape my apartment, and I wear a mask for work.”
“Blue Kudu really out here setting a standard for restaurants.”
They climbed onto the shuttle, and somehow, between one stop and the stop Lydia needed, she’d been convinced into a partial glam look complete with eyeliner, eyeshadow, eyebrow wax, and mascara.
They stepped off the shuttle, and Lydia caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of one of the glass panes.
“How did you do that on a moving bus?”