Happily Unhappy: Season 3

Season 3, Episode 6: You're Back and I Don't Like It

Lynn walks with Honor down the hallway at school on Monday morning with their bags slung over their shoulders.
"I can't believe we're talking about you and Harrison," Lynn says, her upper lip raised in disgust. "No offense but I think Hell has frozen over."
"Would you be quiet?" Honor playfully swats Lynn's arm. "I like him and you should like him too. He's not what everyone makes him out to be."
"He's a snake," Lynn corrects her. "And completely unlikable. Did you forget how crazy he was last year when he joined trauma club to win Josie back?"
"He didn't mean for it to come across that way," Honor tells her stubbornly.
"Have you even talked to Josie about this?" Lynn asks her. "How does she feel about this new budding romance? Because I don't think she's going to be too happy about it, if I'm being completely honest."
"Actually, I don't think she'll care," Honor claims, stepping out of the way of a group of lacrosse players carrying their sticks with them. "She's been over Harrison for awhile now and she has that new Colton guy she likes."
"Still," Lynn says. "It's girl code."
"Welcome back, Riley," a voice echoes from down the hall.
The words send shivers up Lynn's spine as she stops in her track, several feet in front of the senior square. Blinking, she watches Riley Jensen clap hands with his old friends. He fist bumps with one of them and smiles at the others... that golden boy smile everyone falls for. That smile Lynn fell for.
Lynn hears Honor say something but she can't hear her. Her ears are ringing and she feels like the walls of lockers on either side of her are slowly closing in, bound to suffocate her until she's swallowed by the pits of the building. She hasn't seen Riley since the deposition over the summer when she won the case and he got shipped off to some boot camp for troubled teens, given they were both minors at the time. But now he's back, smiling like nothing ever happened.
"What do you want me to do?" Honor finally reaches through to her thoughts. She looks just as sick as Lynn does. "Tell a teacher? Punch him? Keep you standing? Just tell me what you want."
"I can't breathe." Lynn gasps for air and Honor guides her into the girls' restroom. She drops her bag by the door, Honor scrambling to pick it up. She clutches both sides of the porcelain sink under the mirror, attempting to find her breath.
"We can go to Mr. Keller about this," Honor suggests. "Or Ms. Torres. They'll handle it."
Lynn can't even think clearly right now. She isn't sure what she wants to do but the last thing she needs is to think of a plan. She just needs to figure out how to breathe again.
"Do you want me to get Celine?" Honor offers next.
Lynn shakes her head. "No. She'll get expelled when she figures this out. She's not even in school today, she's meeting my dad."
"Okay." Honor rubs Lynn's back in small circles.
Lynn never thought she'd have to see Riley again. But life is not perfect nor neat. And she's about to snap.

Meanwhile, Aisha follows the group of seniors in front of her at SUNY Buffalo State, a college five hours away from Broadview Heights in Buffalo, New York. Aisha tried getting her parents to join her on the visit before they argued with her about it being a school day and that she needs to attend classes but she told them she's coming here either way so if they join her or not, she's still making the trip out here.
Neither of her parents showed up. They've been wildly supportive through everything she's been through but they still have it in their head that she should become some trophy wife of a man that is dripping in money. It doesn't make sense to her, though. Her mother has her own job. She's not sitting around expecting her husband to make the money for them all so why can't Aisha do the same?
"Aisha Mital?" A voice catches Aisha off guard as she browses through the pamphlet for the school on the tour.
She perks up, looking over her shoulder to see a professor coming out of one of the classrooms with her laptop to her chest. She has mocha colored skin and pretty curly hair sprouting out of her head. She's worn down with a bit of age and trauma herself, as Aisha remembers her at Jamal's funeral. It's Mrs. Shaker, Jamal's mother.
Aisha opens her mouth to respond, the rest of the students on the tour gliding down the corridor. She swallows. She hasn't seen Jamal since the funeral, where she couldn't even bring herself to speak then, either. She stood in front of Jamal's parents with nothing to say as her own mother and father gave their condolences. Standing here in front of her now, Aisha feels like the girl she did back then: paralyzed.
"What are you doing here?" Mrs. Shaker forms a soft smile, approaching her. She's wearing a dotted blouse and black pencil skirt with matching kitten pumps. Does she work here?
"I'm on a tour." Aisha gestures over her shoulder at the distancing group.
"Oh, right, you're a senior this year," Mrs. Shaker says, nodding her head as she stares at her. "Jamal would be graduating this year, too."
Aisha nods her head, unsure how to respond to that. Does she agree and wonder what he'd be majoring in in college? Does she give her sorrow? Or does she apologize for never speaking to her second mom again after Jamal died? Aisha saw this woman as another mother. Mrs. Shaker would make snack trays for Jamal and Aisha and would help create forts and wouldn't get mad if they rode their bikes out past curfew. She was supportive and her laugh was contagious. All of these things rolled through Aisha's head when Jamal killed himself as she wondered how he could've done what he did with a mother like this. But then again, no one ever really knows what's going on in someone's life until it's too late.
"I talk about him freely now," Mrs. Shaker says when Aisha doesn't say anything. "My therapist says that it's good for me."
The longer Aisha stares at her, the longer she feels like her insides are going to fight to be on the outside. She isn't sure what to say. As much as she would like to apologize to this woman for not checking in on her after Jamal passed, she can't bring herself to do anything but stare back at her. Aisha has felt so guilty for still living after Jamal died. But she felt even guiltier for ghosting his mother and pretending like she never even existed. And that was wrong.
"You're in therapy?" Aisha finally asks.
She nods her head. "After the divorce, I took it upon myself to win my life back. Breaking the stigma of therapy being for only crazy people."
Aisha's brow wriggles in confusion. "Wait, you and Mr. Shaker got a divorce?"
She nods again. "About a month and a half after Jamal. It was for the best, really. He and I weren't on the same page even before what happened to Jamal. So then after that, we just went our separate ways."
"Wow." Aisha remembers Mr. and Mrs. Shaker fighting a lot of the time and Jamal would get all embarrassed about it, like he was the cause of every bad thing in his own family. It was the reason they stayed out after curfew most nights and probably why Mrs. Shaker not got mad about it. "Well, I'm glad you're doing well. And working here, apparently."
"Yeah, I'm in the fashion department," she explains. Aisha stiffens. "The merchandising and marketing. All that jazz. What are you looking into majoring in?"
Aisha feels her eyes bugging out of her head as she considers how to answer. Does she answer with some other major so if she decides not to come here, Mrs. Shaker won't feel like it's because she's a professor? Or does she tell the truth?
"Business," Aisha sputters before thinking more about it.
"Excellent choice." Mrs. Shaker softly nods her head, impressed.
"Miss Mital?" The tour guide calls from down the hall. "We're going to be hitting a lot of the fashion department classrooms if you wanna catch up?"
Aisha curls her lips into her mouth. Mrs. Shaker is looking at her, puzzled. Aisha clears her throat. "Well, it was nice seeing you, Mrs. Shaker."
Before she can be questioned, Aisha hurries to catch up with the others.