21. Lydia
Since the incident at the winery, things haven’t been the same between Griffin and me.
I wanted to be there for Griffin, and a part of me felt the remorse crawl into my bones that I wasn’t as present in our relationship at a time when it was at its most vulnerable.
It has been four days since our escapade to Napa Valley. What began as a beautiful getaway soon turned south. It’s not Griffin’s fault, in my opinion. I would’ve acted out, too, but Griffin got to him first. And now, he’s paying for it.
As expected, the guy that had his nose sprained a la “literal camera to the face” by Griffin posted the photo online from his camera’s point of view, showing Griffin’s hand outstretched before it slammed in his face. And then the other photographers took photos and videos of Griffin lashing out and posted that. The response from the public hasn’t been stellar. It’s been a shock to a lot of fans’ systems, according to what I’ve read. I wish I hadn’t read the comments because they enraged me.
“Do not mess with Markey. He’ll break your nose and then some.”
“I’ve lost a lot of respect for Griffin Markey. I know paparazzi can be invasive, but that doesn’t mean you have to hurt them.”
“What’s dating done to you, Griffin? You’re no longer a class act.”
They weren’t there. They didn’t know what happened. They only see what happened through the lens of someone else, someone who’s just hoping to make a quick buck by photographing a major hockey star. Griffin now comes across as someone who has an anger problem, and it’s surprising to people because Griffin has spent most of his professional hockey career being the guy with the heart of gold and the NHL’s sweetheart.
Griffin’s been on the road again and three hours ahead in New York, so we haven’t been talking as much as we would if we shared a time zone. He’s also been in his head a lot about what happened and told me from the day he left for New York that he’ll be busy. He apologized for when he’ll be slow to respond to my texts because he’s also going to New Jersey to visit his family. Is it bad that I’ve been too busy to care as much as I should? Over at LGU, the team has been practicing every day for a big tournament that’s coming up soon. If we win this tournament, we’ll have an automatic invitation to compete in the state finals in Las Vegas and potentially be in contention for Worlds, taking place in Seoul. The victory is so close I can taste it, but there is a lot that we need to work on before even thinking about tasting victory. The kids keep manifesting, and this whole week, they’ve been staying in the esports room as late as ten pm, playing online to get practice matches in. I decided to stay late with them, catering different foods every night. For me, it’s been fun to see them get so into something and be really good at it. The swiftness of their mice skating across the mouse pad, the clicks of the keyboard being tapped with such fervor. I almost feel like I have to force my mouth shut after it goes numb from being open for so long in awe.
As I’m wrapping up some marketing plans for potential fundraiser campaigns we’ll need to do if we want to successfully make it to Vegas and not cause our pockets to bleed in the process, I hear my phone buzz and look to see that Landon’s texted me.
Landon: Lunch plans? I wanna talk to you about something.
Lydia: No plans. What do you want to talk to me about?
Landon: I’ll tell you during lunch. Meet you @ 1?
Lydia: Sure thing.
Landon’s texts are so cryptic that I puzzle over why he’s being so secretive. I hope it’s exciting news. Maybe he received a job offer. But he would come across as more elated in his text if it was good news, which begs the question: what kind of bad news is he going to bear? Have he and his girlfriend hit a rough patch?
I jog down the stairs to the first floor, where all the food outlets are, and press my back against a wall to wait for Landon. I survey each of the different stations. My favorite one is the build-your-own pasta, where they sauté all the toppings and sauce right in front of you, but that one always has the longest line, and the current line of students is already almost to the door.
“Hey,” Landon walks up to me and knocks me out of my thoughts about what to eat.
“Oh, hi! Sorry, just figuring out what to eat.”
“You mean figuring out if you want to wait in line for the pasta, which happens every week.” Landon starts chuckling. “Do you not like the Asian stir-fry station?”
“It’s alright,” I shrug. Should I like it more because we’re Asian? I have to give it to the school and whoever’s in charge of food outlets here. The beef and broccoli hits the spot occasionally. But whenever I settle for Asian food, I remember that my family can cook it better and wish they made food out of our school’s cafeteria.
“Yin Yin makes it better.”
Landon rolls his eyes. “Well, of course. It’s college food. It’s not supposed to be revolutionary.”
“True. I should just be happy I don’t have to pay for it, thanks to your meal plan.”
We order our lunch. I ultimately decide to settle for the Asian stir-fry, and we find a table near the back corner of the dining area.
“Okay,” I look Landon straight in the eyes before even taking a bite. Cryptic texts do not go well with my anxiety, and I need to know what he has to say before I can do anything else. “What is this something you needed to tell me over lunch? And why did you make it sound so vague?”
Landon sighs and puts the spoon down. Ha, he thought he could get a bite in before I interrogate him.
“I know you’re my big sister, and you’re an adult and fully capable of making your own decisions...”
I don’t like where this is going.
“But,” I interject.
“I’m worried about you, Lids.”
I scrunch my nose in disgust. What on earth should Landon be worried about? My safety? I can assure him I’m safe. Griffin may have exhibited a violent side over one outburst, but this isn’t an indication that my life was in danger, and how dare Landon assume that it was.
“Well, stop,” I tell him straight. “Like you said, I’m an adult capable of making my own decisions. And I know what this is about. You weren’t there, you don’t know what happened.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I know. But he still reacted out of line.”
“Yeah, because that guy got in our space.”
“I know. And the paparazzi are completely out of line by asking those questions. But violence is never the answer.”
“Don’t you think I know that?!” I yell, loud enough for those sitting at the surrounding tables to turn around and eye us. God, I’ve never wanted to shrink back into nothingness as often as I wanted to in the past week. I’m starting to feel the embarrassment creep into every one of my veins, and now the walls I’ve tried so hard to keep together are starting to break apart, bit by bit.
“I’m sorry.” I feel a droplet on my cheek. “This week hasn’t been easy. And Griffin hasn’t been talking to me much. He’s been in New York for games and is making a trip out to see his family and...I want to be there for him because I know he’s going through a lot, but he won’t answer any of my texts.”
“It’s not your fault,” Landon says, reaching to rub my forearm resting on the table. “Look, I’m sorry if I came off as condescending. It’s just...people are talking, Lydia. They’re spreading rumors that Griffin is violent and abusive beyond what they saw happen to that guy. You’d tell me if that was the case, right?”
“Y-yeah,” I answer. It lacked confidence, but it should have been full of it. I just didn’t want to believe that Griffin would ever do something like that. He wouldn’t to me. But I wasn’t confident enough to say he wouldn’t to other people. “Of course.”
“Okay, good. Just...stay off social media for a little bit,” Landon warned. “It’s a bloodbath out there. People are painting Griffin in a bad light. He lashes out one time and everyone’s focusing on the bad more than the good. People are putting Griffin’s jersey up for sale on resell sites. It’s bad.”
I’ve suddenly lost my appetite for the sad-looking rice bowl that’s losing steam in front of me. Griffin probably already knows about everything that’s happened. Is a text reassuring him I’ve got his back going to even do anything for the heartbreak he must feel right now?
I pull out my phone and send him a text anyway. He’ll either leave me on read, or he’ll respond. I’d prefer the latter, but at least if it says he read it, then I can rest easy knowing that he’s thinking of me like I’m thinking about him. I’m planning on spending tonight away from the university, for the first time this week, to watch the Stingrays take on the Islanders on TV. Griffin’s parents and brothers are making the trip from New Jersey to watch him. I wonder what thoughts are racing through their minds about this. Are they disappointed in Griffin after the incident? I know that he’s not the favorite child because he willingly left home, and they don’t make an effort to fly to California to visit him because it’s “too far.” This probably just reinforces that Griffin is making poor decisions that they don’t agree with.
Lydia: Hey, I know you’re busy with practices and spending time with your family, but I wanted to let you know I love you, and I’m here when you need me. x
I quietly walk back up to the food outlets and request a to-go box for the food I barely ate. Maybe I’ll eat it later, but I feel a burst of nausea coming on, and I wish I could be at home now with my heating pad. I return to the table and tell Landon I have to get back to my desk. He simply nods and doesn’t pry for me to spill my feelings and potentially showcase my ugly cries to an audience of judgy college students.
I plop down at my desk, not even moving to turn on the lights and rest my head in my arms crossed on the desk. It reminds me of when I’d get in trouble in elementary school and got “benched” for recess. I shut my eyes, and the drowsiness quickly sinks in. I’m awoken by knocking on the doorframe.
“Lydia?” A deep voice calls. I jolt up and gasp when I realize that I fell asleep. I peer over to the clock on my desk. I must’ve been asleep for at least half an hour! When I look up to the doorframe, and Dr. Jones is eyeing me coolly with his arms crossed over his chest, I want to gasp again.
“Dr. Jones!” My tone rises an octave. “We didn’t have a meeting today, right?” I’m still red that Dr. Jones discovered me almost on the brink of REM. It’s unlike me to fall asleep during work. I guess I was just so exhausted after lunch that I accidentally fell asleep. That was a mistake, because ,of course, I got caught in the act. Like my job is such a snooze fest when in actuality, I have a lot of work to do, and I just wasted time by napping. Maybe I’ll put the game on my second screen while getting the rest of the things on my to-do list done today. Plus whatever Dr. Jones might have in store for me.
“No, Lydia. We didn’t have a meeting. Is everything okay? Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”
“No, of course not! I just...wanted to take a little break since I knew I was going to stay late tonight. Gotta finish the fundraiser plan for the League Championships!”
“Lydia,” he takes a seat across from me on my desk. “I wanted to check in on you because I know...things might be hard for you right now.”
I bite my cheek. News has been spreading like a cold. And now, I have my boss asking questions about my overall well-being, over something that’s not impeding my work performance. At least, not that I’m aware of.
“Um, everything’s fine,” I say with an ounce of confidence. “Why do you ask?”
He sighs and shoots me a look as if he’s been through a hurricane. Scratching the side of his face, he purses his lips before extending them into a straight line.
“The Department of Student Life has been receiving some...comments on our social media posts about you and your relationship with Griffin Markey.”
“What?” The color drains from my face, and my heart feels like it’s on the cusp of shattering. The scrutiny against Griffin has spread too far. Beyond his social media and that of the Stingrays, now it’s affecting me and my place of work, which is supposed to be using its social media channels to promote itself as a prized learning institution. “What kind of comments?”
He pulls out his phone and swipes up to unlock it. “Let’s see...” His eyes flicker back and forth to read whatever is on the screen.
“How can you promote someone on your social media that assaults innocent people?”
“Save your employees from Griffin Markey, especially his girlfriend, Lydia Goh. I’m fearful that she’ll be next.”
I reel back in my chair. Why did it feel like everything expounded tenfold in a matter of minutes? I know I haven’t been checking socials often for my own mental health, but this seems excessive for one incident with an invasive paparazzi that I could argue deserved what he got. Now people are saying to protect the school? Just because what? There was one post made about him dropping into our esports room and donating money to help the program. And because he’s with me? Did I miss something? A catastrophic event that has led to Griffin being on the trending list for all the wrong reasons?
“Griffin is not hurting me,” I begin. If I wanted to clear the air on anything, that was going to be the first. “I know he hurt someone, but it wasn’t like it was unprovoked. They found us at the winery and...”
“There’s been a recent development,” Dr. Jones tells me. “Have you not seen the news?”
“No, I...” Fell asleep after lunch. And apparently, during that time, a lot has happened. “Took that nap, remember?”
“Oh yeah. I’ll pretend that I didn’t walk into you doing that. Not that you aren’t allowed to...just...work productivity and all that.”
I nod. I feel ashamed about it, too, I want to add. But I’m too anxious about what conundrum Griffin might have gotten himself into now.
“What’s been on the news?”
Dr. Jones silently responds by typing something on his phone again and turns it around to show me. His eyes don’t meet mine, instead, they look down at my desk, full of dilapidated papers strewn about. I didn’t have time to organize them into folders, but I believe in the method to my madness. There was too much in my brain right now to take the time to organize my thoughts. I grab the phone, and my eyes widen when I see, in big bold letters, a headline reading:
“Griffin Markey Caught in Fight with Rival Davey Nettles at Puck Drop During San Jose vs NY Islanders Game
San Jose Stingrays player Griffin Markey was caught in a brawl immediately after the puck dropped with New York Islanders player Davey Nettles. It was not clear how the fight was provoked, but Markey made the first hit against Nettles. The two played hockey together at Cornell University, but it seems they may not have had a budding friendship. It was later decided that Markey would be suspended for the remainder of the game for violent misconduct. San Jose Stingrays coach, Brett Salter, has yet to comment on Markey’s fight, but with the first period ending and the score 4 to 1 New York, we have a feeling he won’t have many positive remarks regarding Markey’s outburst.”
My eyes start to well up, and I use my sleeve to wipe them before I full-on bawl in front of Dr. Jones. “I...I don’t know why he did that.”
“I know,” Dr. Jones has a look of pity on his face. At least he agrees it’s not my fault. “I just...just watch out for yourself, Lydia. And let me know immediately if anyone asks for your comment on anything. We want to protect ourselves.”
“Yes,” I quiver. “I will.”
He gets up and exits my office, which only then is when I let the dam break and the tears shed. Griffin, I want to cry out. What is going on?