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As she unlocked the door to her dorm room with the keypad lock that was probably installed at least five decades before her time, Historia couldn’t help but brace herself for her roommate she knew almost nothing about except for her name: Mikasa Ackerman.
This Mikasa had no social media profile, no news articles about her or any high school achievements- although thankfully it didn’t appear she had any criminal record either-, or even any email to send her a message. Was she from Amish backwaters? Was she just super camera shy? Or was she one of those conspiracy theorists thinking that the government was spying on her every move? Or maybe she was a spy, pretending to not have any social media and using the information Historia had shared to spy on her.
Well, most realistically, it probably meant that Mikasa Ackerman had never heard of Historia Reiss, the daughter of multimillionaire Rodney Reiss. He wasn’t like one of those Silicon Valley moguls in the news for a security breach or an oil tycoon pledging environmental support to save face, but he had enough money to own one yacht and have one known publicized affair with a woman that led to a nasty divorce and lengthy custody battle over Historia and her half-siblings. He was ordered to pay child support to her mother, and that was all she really knew about him personally. He never sent her birthday cards or Christmas presents, and he never spoke to her mother as far as she knew other than through attorneys.
Frieda, her older half-sister, had a heart to visit her growing up along with Florian, who was the same age as Historia was. She didn’t blame her siblings’ situation or parents’ divorce on Historia’s birth but rather blamed her father for being an unfaithful piece of shit, although Frieda would never use those words in front of a little girl. She was too kind for that; it was almost sickening.
And that was always her downfall, too nice to show a mean bone once in a while. It was too bad she had gotten suckered into doing something with her father that day, something for the family business, probably another one of those weird parties he held. She could hope that Frieda was babysitting him to prevent any more half siblings from being born from the cleaning staff to keep up the family’s “reformed” image following the scandal. It was just Historia on her own to move her belongings in without her mother wanting to be present either, probably doing a mix of snorting crack or whoring herself online, or maybe a mix of the two.
Well, there was somebody else she wished could be here, but she was long gone. She couldn’t let her heart ache over an old pain. Just put the stitches in place, and it won’t ooze. That was the last thing she needed, being a bleeding heart over her old girlfriend in front of a stranger who wanted nothing to do with her. Probably numb and dumb because of her lack of contact with the outside world. That’d be good. Maybe they’d actually get along. That or her online following would have to join her virtually in all her new experiences that she didn’t want to live out alone.
The door clicked open. The left bed was untouched. The right bed was already covered with a fluffy maroon comforter but no occupant. Same with the desk that was organized with some pencil holders, a laptop, and a wall decorated with some butterfly stickers and some paper chain cutouts. Was this Mikasa an artist? There was also a painting of a crane hanging above her bed. It looked like it was Eastern Asian in origin, but Historia wasn’t an art expert.
Historia tossed her duffel bag on her bed left for her. She would have to make sure her wall looked just as precisely decorated as Mikasa’s. She had to have some good decorating skills for an appeasing background. Was there a craft store around here? She had some supplies in her car, but she needed a matching aesthetic for whatever season of life she was in. She wasn’t going to decorate her wall with elementary school back to school shit with smiling, waving animals on school buses. Her followers would mock her.
Maybe she could ask Mikasa if…. No. She’d be so disinterested in her stupid little life. She’d request a roommate change for simply asking for her help in something like decorating . After all, Historia knew nobody here. She’d have to be used to doing everything herself. College had no study hall, and professors had limited hours and dozens of students crying to them for clemency on a late assignment or asking them sexual favors. Even she wasn’t that low hanging of a fruit.
As Historia unpacked her clothes, she sighed. She needed to check her schedule. Tons of electives and an undecided major. Not that she’d have to worry about loans since her father’s brother, who had a share in the family fortune, took great pity on Historia’s situation despite never meeting her. Nice man, but too chronically ill to step foot outside his own countryside mansion or bother with the family business.
It was just that… what was there for her to do? She’d helped out at her hometown’s community center her last few summers of high school where she volunteered at a daycamp for children. That was nice, but was that really what kept her going? Wasn’t it her that motivated her to stop moping about every aspect of her sorry life during break time for the volunteers?
If kids were the future for her, it would sure as hell be a horrid future filled with crying, whining, snotty noses, millions of problems that weren’t hers to have to solve. What about performing arts? Could be a good tool to expand her performance range and creative outlet. She was selling so much of herself out already without sponsors wanting her to advertise a language learning app or a VPN. But art took a lot of time and practice, and there was no guarantee anybody would want to buy her art.
Ugh. But she had to keep some people happy. She texted Frieda that she had arrived safely. She’d probably respond after midnight. Then, her phone buzzed. One of her apps notified her of some new posts from some influencers she followed. She had to keep up with them. Time for the obligatory college move-in selfie before the elusive Mikasa returned from wherever she found more interesting than here.
Historia pulled out her pocket mirror and checked her makeup. Gross, a dry spot. She sure didn’t want Mikasa to look at that. She dabbed it away with a wet wipe and started to fix it. I’ve got to look perfect. Wait, why was she suddenly caring what she thought of her?
“Uh, hey.”
Historia jumped and dropped her mirror. She almost cursed as it descended to the ground, but a hand had grabbed it. And then she saw the face that owned the fast reflexes.
“Uh… um… you’re Mikasa?” Historia stuttered out. Damn it. She was already making herself look stupid.
“Yeah, I am. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Mikasa handed back the mirror. She was a woman of average height, although to petite Historia, she was rather intimidating at first glance. She had a pale complexion, long dark hair kept in a maroon ponytail that matched the comforter, and a very blank resting face. Her outfit wasn’t anything too outstanding. Just a pink tank top she filled out well with some beige capris. “Nice to meet you, Historia. I was just asking the R.A. down the hall about any job openings at the dorm, and I saw the door was left open. I thought you were a thief about to dig through my stuff.”
“Just got here. Just moving stuff in. Nothing special, I guess. Everyone else is doing it.” It felt like her feet were being encased in drying cement every moment longer she spoke.
“Oh, do your parents want some help getting your stuff in?”
“It’s just me. I can do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure. I mean, no! I mean, I’ll be fine. You’re probably tired.” Historia dragged her feet to the door. Her heart was palpitating, and her fair skin betrayed her and made her look like a lobster as she ambled down the hall and to the staircase. She couldn’t believe herself! This Mikasa had actually offered her help after having done nothing before this to deserve it? Like a real person?
And she was acting so cowardly, rushing down to the parking lot where a man and woman were carrying a large trunk for a young woman. This was so surreal. But what if she was just doing this to make herself look good? What kind of secrets did she hold? Maybe she wasn’t so different from herself after all as she had once been.
Or Ymir.
“Sweetie, why do you go by the name ‘Krista’? Ymir cornered her on break as she tried to lose herself into a phone and scroll past a couple hundred comments wanting her attention. She’d been trying to talk to her for the last few days. Her first stalker. How funny.
“Maybe it’s a nice name. I prefer to go by it.” She rolled her eyes. What kind of name was hers anyways? Her family must have been big into Norse mythology or something.
“Come on. I peeked at the volunteer registration list. Are you embarrassed to be called ‘Historia’ for some reason?” Ymir’s brown eyes pierced her trembling soul. They were so deep and beautiful, like a fine chocolate fondue at lavish parties rich people held that were kept out of her reach.
“It’s just… stupid. I don’t like being teased by the boys in Spanish class. It means ‘history’. One of them started singing that stupid cockroach song because they think they’re so funny. And when we started talking about our families for the family unit, they started asking me why none of my sisters were named ‘Geografia’ or ‘Biologia’.” Historia turned away, but Ymir caught her by the shoulders.
“Historia. Why be ashamed of that? It’s your name your parents gave you, isn’t it?”
Historia snorted. “Yeah, my mom. She must have watched too many telenovelas while she cried at the lawyers for the money she was missing out on. Dad was like one of those candies- sour, sweet, then gone. Well, not in that order. He was more sweet, sour, then poof! The courts caught up to him though.”
Ymir scoffed. “Well then, screw them all. Who gives a shit if they gave you a name you detest? Make it mean something good for yourself.”
“Hey, watch your language. The kids will hear you.”
“There aren’t any kids around. Get off your phone and look at me.” Ymir snatched the phone out of her hands. Historia protested. What was she doing, prying in on people’s private business? She scrolled slowly, looking a bit disgruntled. “This all you do when you’re not at day camp? Letting others tell you how you should dress and do your makeup? Ha. I’m shocked you haven’t posted any nudes yet.”
“Hey, I’m not an e-prostitute! My mom didn’t pass all her dirty genes to me.”
“Wasn’t saying that you were. But are you going to let your little online cronies define you too?” Ymir pulled Historia closer to her. Historia sighed.
“I try not to, but it’s so… supportive. It’s so much easier to pretend I’m happy.”
“Oh sweetie. I’d like to know the real you. Playing pretend isn’t going to get you anywhere good.”
Historia felt herself go hot. “Alright. Fine. If you want to know about my stupid shi- uh, dumb life, we can talk over an espresso or something. Just not in front of the kids.”
Ymir placed her finger on her lips, which felt surprisingly good.“Oh, stop with the pretty white girl honey lips censorship, dear. I think you’ll feel much better if you let it all out.” Ymir checked behind her. “Calm down, there aren’t any kids.” She extended her phone back to her but quickly swept it out of reach.
“Fine! We’ll talk about my shitty life later at the coffee shop!” Historia shouted.
Ymir had lied. There was a little kid hiding around the corner, being a naughty little eavesdropper while he should have been finishing his juice and cookies. Ymir laughed and laughed as Historia ran after him and scolded and begged him not to repeat the words she just said. She was so mad that she wanted to call off the little coffee date. But that didn’t end up happening.
In fact, one thing led to another. Historia started spending less time with her phone and more time with Ymir that summer. Ymir was in foster care, so she didn’t have any family nearby. It turned out both her parents had been drug dealers who were in and out of prison, and whenever social services came to visit, she was forced to put on an act under duress after her father filled her head with the fact she would be without a home and food, so she had to play good girl. All she wanted to do was live in a happy home like in the shows on TV.
That lasted until one day, her little brother Thor casually mentioned to his teacher that one of the frequent buyers had been molesting him, which he would pay a bigger sum of money to her parents for. He defiantly announced this to the family at dinner that night before this buyer was to come around again, and that was when their father snapped. He forced them all to overdose on liquid cold medicine before shooting them all and himself. Ymir was the least badly wounded of them, and she crawled with all her strength to call for help. She was the only survivor.
It took a lot to come to terms with her trauma, feeling guilty for having to keep quiet or risk losing her only sense of normalcy and a place that ‘loved’ her, cursing herself for not being the first to speak to an authority and taking her brother to safety. She had to be reassured that it was largely due to failures in the system that caused this tragedy. But now, she had been recovering well in her foster home and gaining a life she would have never thought possible.
To say that Historia and Ymir found comfort in each other’s pain would be an understatement. When Historia was fed up with her mother’s antics, she’d take refuge with Ymir at her foster family’s house. It was just one night, and then the next time it turned into a weekend, and before they knew it, they were dating and making plans for after graduation. Historia had deleted all her social media. She didn’t need an outlet to reach all the other phonies. She had a real person other than her ever growing distant sisters to look to. She had gotten real with herself.
Yeah. Being real with herself. That stopped about a year ago, and it only took briefly meeting another stranger to come face to face with that again. It was like being plunged into ice water filled with hungry piranhas. A freshman boy swore as Historia nearly crashed into him. Historia peered anxiously around the parking lot. Where the hell did she park again? Too many cars were here.
“Hey! Historia!”
Oh dear God. Mikasa was chasing after her. She sure was agile. She also had something important of Historia’s under her arm.
“Historia! Are you feeling okay? You forgot your purse and car keys.” She extended this as an offering.
“Oh my….” Historia felt weak as she took her purse. “Silly me.” She felt herself blush.
“Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I sounded upset about the door being opened. I just didn’t want anybody to sneak in and steal anything with all the people here today.”
“I… no. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Mikasa. Can… can you help me with my belongings? I think I have more than I can handle today.”
“Of course I can. Look out!”
Mikasa guarded Historia from a car that screeched to a halt. The idiot driver flashed her middle finger and drove on. Barely one day, and Mikasa had already rescued her from her own superficial bullshit she habitually committed.
…
With Mikasa’s help, unloading and unpacking went much quicker and smoother than doing it solo. She didn’t question any of her items or judge her clothes she hung up. In fact, she was happy to answer Historia’s questions about the art she had on her side of the room.
“My mom and dad were both artists, so I learned a lot of different art styles growing up. Not sure where I want to specialize yet, but I want to do something that honors them both. Great-Grandma Kiyomi too. She’s the reason my family got where we are today.”
“Oh? That’s nice.” Historia tried not to show her jealousy.
“What about you?”
“Oh, um, I don’t know. The freshman fall fair will probably convince me one way or the other. All the departments will be there. You can check the details on the college Facebook page.”
“I don’t have one. I deleted all my social media a year ago.”
“How did you keep up with your friends in school?”
“Home schooled. And both of my friends growing up lived right next door. I could holler out my window and Armin and Eren- they’d both come running.” Mikasa straightened her ponytail out. “I just like to keep my life as private as possible.”
Mikasa’s stoic expression was broken and twisted into something painful. Historia wasn’t sure if she should ask for her to elaborate or not. But Historia remembered that maybe Mikasa wasn’t a perfect woman but had her own history she was hiding from her.
“Do you want to walk around campus? I think I need some fresh air and inspiration to decorate my wall.”
The two exited the room, making sure to lock the door securely-Mikasa made sure to double check. She forced a small smile and winked at Historia. Was this going to become a running joke between them? But first, they had to stop and help the man and woman Historia dashed by earlier.
“Marie, it’s fine! Just get some aspirin for me.” The man hunched over, rubbing his back.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Nile? You’re not as young as you once were!”
Their daughter was standing by and looked rather embarrassed by the whole incident. Mikasa and Historia were happy to help the family get the last remaining boxes. You couldn’t uphold a pristine image of yourself forever.
…
Historia watched as the stream meandering through the campus carried away leaves and sticks blown out by a recent storm. Mikasa sat next to her on an oak bench. She looked lost in her thoughts.
“I wonder where the stream diverges.” She broke the serenity.
“Hmm? I’m not good at philosophy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m thinking of something I should paint. A theme for new beginnings and saying goodbye to the past.”
“Are you thinking about your friends you moved away from?”
Mikasa didn’t look at her. Oh shit. Did she sound too upfront? She hoped she didn’t upset her too much.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I overshare a lot.”
“No, it’s fine. We didn’t just go our own ways. Armin spent most of his time in studies and ended up graduating school a year early. But Eren. Oh Eren. He went off the rails. He promised me he’d come clean and quit hanging out with these awful kids at school who got him into pot. And he didn’t. He’d never broken a promise before. I begged him to stop. I told his parents and older brother. And… he’s just disappeared. He’s probably wandered off somewhere to start his own life. He has my number, and he knows he can call anytime.”
Historia groaned. What was it with everybody and goddamn drugs ruining lives? “My ex-girlfriend came from a family of those. Survived some brutal injuries after her brother ratted her parents out. She and I, we were a thing, destined to be. Provided me a refuge from my own druggie mom who’s often so high she could fly.”
“Did she become addicted too?”
“No, she didn’t. But what do you know? She was walking home from her job at the store one night just before senior year started, and one of the fiends her parents sold to recognized her. Started harassing her, and that turned into an assault, and it was over.” That was the first time recounting the story that she hadn’t broken down into tears. “Ymir didn’t go down without a fight though. An eyewitness followed the attacker from the scene, and the ring was busted.”
“The world is a cruel place to live,” Mikasa commented after absorbing the gruesome details.
“I miss her so much. She lit up my life.” Historia snorted. “She would have made fun of me for the way I acted when I first met you. She’d also be a bit mad at me. I sometimes have trouble interacting with real people. Heh. I can’t even tell who real people really are.”
Mikasa faced her. “Hey, don’t apologize. I should have at least given you my email ahead of time. Even my parents would call me a luddite. I’ve had trouble trusting people since Eren left. I was worried about getting too close to somebody only to lose them again.”
“Oh, Mikasa….”
Two ducks fluttered their way noisily and dunked themselves into the flowing stream. A group of freshman boys traveled in their own flock behind them making just as much noise. Here they were on what should have been the start of their lives onwards, reminiscing about past lovers and the wounds it carried.
Historia’s phone buzzed. Probably a notification of some fresh new likes on her posts. As she unlocked her screen, she almost clicked on it to see just who liked it. But she looked at Mikasa and turned her notifications on mute indefinitely. Phonies didn’t need her. A real person who needed somebody to confide in did.
“Hey, Mikasa? I know I’m not perfect, but can I make a promise to you?”
“A promise?”
“It’s not in the roommate agreement we have to sign, but I want to promise this to myself too.”
“Go on.”
“I promise… I am going to live my new life here as proudly as I can. I can’t live my life wanting to have all the reputation my dad’s side has while working my way to it like my mom does. The world is going to need real people to run it, to help others in need. I want to make a difference.”
Mikasa smiled. “That’s a good promise to make.”
Historia continued. “My parents are the reason I’m here today, whether they like me or not. I’m not them. I’m Historia Reiss, and I’m going to like it.”
Somebody whistled. “Great speech! You know, there’s a college speech club with lots of pretty girls like you that you can join.”
Historia and Mikasa turned around. How long was this frat dude standing there listening to them? Was he perving on them?
Mikasa shot him a horrifying glare. He slowly backed up and acted like he wasn’t up to anything.
Oh God. Was she being too dramatic and making a scene? Then, without warning, Historia started laughing. What was she so worried about? He was probably going to drink so much tonight he’d forget the face of every girl he encountered he tried to feel up. What a loser. He’d never end up anywhere good in life. Ymir would have agreed and joined her in her rare moments of happiness.
“Hey, I thought that was good. You’re much braver than me.” Mikasa reassured her. “I’ll make a promise too. I promise I will open up about myself. It will take me time, but I have to learn to make friends with people outside my little neighborhood. I don’t know if I’ll love anybody other than Eren, but there’s a lot of beautiful things out here I would otherwise miss out on if I laid depressed in my bed all day.”
“What kind of beautiful things?” Historia blinked rapidly.
Mikasa blushed hot red. “Uh… the stream! The ducks in it are cute too!” It took less than a day to break the stoic young woman down.
“I’m just kidding!” Kind of , she thought.
It was starting to get later out. It was time to get some dinner at the freshman welcome picnic. They had to meet with the RA and the rest of the people on their dormitory floor. They made their way toward the scent of hot dogs and hamburgers and the sound of blasted radio pop songs dated from five years ago. Clusters of residents were filming short videos and taking endless selfies to pick from. Historia tried to dodge them. Mikasa waved at the RA.
“Hi, Petra. I don’t think you got to meet Historia yet.”
A petite sophomore woman with strawberry blonde hair smiled. “Nice to meet you, Historia! I was getting worried that you hadn’t come to check in at my door. But Rose Dok said you and Mikasa had helped her parents get the rest of her things up the stairs.”
“Oh, it was nothing. Sorry about that. I just wasn’t feeling ready yet to say hello. But I’m here now. Historia Reiss.”
“Everyone gets a little antsy on their move-in day. We’re just about to take the class photo. Do you want me to text it to you?”
“Sure.” They exchanged numbers. Mikasa joined in too.
“Oh, and feel free to add me on your social media!”
Historia gulped. Mikasa eyed her. “Um… it’s okay. I’ve decided to not use social media this year. Too busy getting my life sorted out.”
“That’s awesome. It’s good to set goals for yourself. Oh, and Mikasa, there is an opening at the front desk. Interview and test run is tonight on short notice at 7. I think you’ll be great with your organizational skills, but I have to see you handle some common situations students find themselves in.”
“Uh….”
“Come on, you can do it.” Historia nudged. “You helped me .”
“Yes. I’ll be there.”
“Excellent!” Petra’s phone buzzed. “Oh, I’m sorry. My boyfriend.” She read a message and cringed. “Seriously? He got his tongue stuck on a popsicle and wants me to do something about it? Sorry, I’ll be right back.” Petra trotted away.
Mikasa patted Historia on the back. “Hey, good job.”
“Oh, no biggie. I don’t think I could have done it without you.”
Historia unlocked her phone. She went straight to the settings, selected all her social media apps, and uninstalled them. Gone. It was time to start again.