ME & HIM ✔︎

4

       UPDATED

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We finally arrived in California after what felt like an endless six-hour flight. I slept most of the way, but as I checked my phone, the time read 2:46. I sighed, looking around at the familiar sights of Los Angeles. God, I missed this place.

"We need to catch the bus to the house. My car's already there, not here," Clarissa said, tugging her suitcase behind her.

"Alright," I nodded, my body still heavy with exhaustion.

We made our way to the bus stop, and I pulled up the schedule on my phone. "The next bus comes at three. Looks like we're just in time," I said, relieved we wouldn't have to wait long.

After a few minutes, the bus pulled up, and we boarded with our suitcases. As soon as I stepped on, I regretted it. The stench hit me like a wave. I winced and whispered to Ariana, "Smells like ass."

"Thought it was just me," she muttered, covering her mouth. "I can taste it."

Before I could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. "Shh," a white woman hissed at us from a few seats away. "You Blacks are always so loud. Maybe you're the ones who stink."

I froze, the words hitting me like a punch. She was pale, probably in her 40s, with a teenage girl standing beside her and a little boy sitting nearby. The whole time we'd been on the bus, she'd been making faces at us, and I'd ignored it. But now...

Before I could react, my aunt stepped in front of me, her voice low but dangerous. "What did you just say?"

The woman didn't back down. "You heard me."

"I didn't know people in California were still racist," Ariana muttered under her breath.

"They're not. Well, not all of them," I said quietly, trying to keep calm.

But my aunt wasn't letting it go. "No, I don't think I heard you right. You just made a racist comment in front of children. You need to watch your mouth."

The woman just shrugged. Her teenage daughter looked mortified, glancing away like she wished the floor would swallow her whole. "Mom, stop. Don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

"Yes, chile, check your mother before I do it for you," my aunt warned, setting her suitcase down and stepping closer. She was on the verge of snapping.

The woman squared her shoulders. "Then come on, check me. I'll call the cops on you. I'll press charges."

"Lady—" my aunt started, but I cut her off, stepping up. "Excuse me, but did you just threaten to call the cops after YOU insulted us? You really don't see how messed up that is?"

"I didn't insult you, young lady."

"Yes, you did. Referring to us as 'you Blacks' is an insult. And I swear, if my aunt doesn't handle this, I will."

The woman's daughter looked like she was about to cry. "Okay, okay. Let's not get violent here. Mom, let's just go. This is our stop."

The bus came to a halt, and they grabbed their things and got off. As soon as the door closed behind them, I heard a guy at the back, holding a beer, yell, "Man, I was ready to record that. Worldstar!"

I rolled my eyes, the tension still thick in the air. But at least the woman was gone.

•••

We finally made it to the house, and let me tell you, I was exhausted. After a long drive filled with squabbling and snacks that seemed to vanish into thin air, stepping into the cool air of the living room felt like a small victory. My aunt had given us each a room, which I appreciated, even if I was too tired to care much about decor or privacy at the moment.