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Setting her phone down, Lydia pushed her rising emotions back down. She’d cried enough tears to fill the local pool. They solved nothing, so why bother? Tim was a nice guy, but Lydia knew he wasn’t the one. She also knew he wouldn’t put up with her “issue” for long.
“Stay there, boy. I’ll be back soon.” Dropping several kisses on Monty’s head, Lydia left him curled up while she took that well-needed shower. The bathroom was the size of a broom cupboard, but the water temperature was above freezing, and the pressure was good, so things could be worse. Stripping off her dress and underwear, Lydia took in a deep breath before lifting her gaze to the full-length mirror hung on the back of the door.
Standing at five foot three inches, Lydia was far from tall. Her long chestnut hair hung down her back. Large breasts sat high on her chest. At least she had those going for her, not that they were much good when her hormones were playing silly buggers. Sighing, Lydia continued her observations. Creamy skin adorned with beauty spots. Wide hips and thick thighs. A small waist that led up to wide shoulders. Not as wide as a swimmer, but enough they completed Lydia’s hourglass figure.
Gently caressing her face, Lydia felt the first prick of tears. Her skin was clear except for the area near her chin where she suffered with hormonal blemishes. No amount of expensive creams or facial masks got rid of them. Thank God for make-up.
Wiping her eyes, Lydia did her level best to shake off the black cloud that was trying with all its might to descend on her. No, she wouldn’t let it. She wouldn’t let the sight of extra weight, blemishes, or anything else imperfect on her body bring her down. If she did, Lydia feared she’d never get out from under it.
Smoothing shower gel over her body, Lydia finally felt her mood mellow. Steam filled every inch of the bathroom, fogging the mirror. At least I don’t have to look at myself again.
Clean and dry, Lydia trundled back to the living room. Monty hadn’t moved an inch. His little body curled in an almost perfect ball. “Move up, let me squeeze on.” Monty shifted slightly, allowing Lydia to curl up next to him. The television came to life and Lydia let herself drift off, her mind filled with nothing more than fictional characters and funny storylines.
In the past, Lydia would have obsessed about a break-up, spending hours analysing what she could have done differently. But now, she didn’t waste the energy. It was time to see the forest for the trees. Lydia wouldn’t find love and that was that.
Eyes drooping, she finally gave in to sleep. It wasn’t unusual for the duo to sleep on the couch. There were countless times she’d woken from a stiff back and cricked neck courtesy of her sofa.
This time, however, it was Monty’s soggy kisses that stirred her from slumber. It was still dark out, but the microwave timer told Lydia it was almost seven. Bloody winter. “Morning,” she mumbled to her pooch, who was eager to carry out his morning business.
Rolling off the sofa in a less than graceful manner, Lydia set about her morning routine. She liked routine; it gave her a sense of stability. And the one thing Lydia craved was stability, ideally in her hormone levels, but that was just laughable at this point.
Checking the time again, she cursed herself for taking so long to get ready. Ramming a piece of whole wheat toast in her mouth, she ruffled Monty’s head and headed out the door.
Working a Saturday shift wasn’t so bad. This way, she wasn’t forced to spend the day in her own company. Yeah, Fe would come over if called, but that would only lead to emotional conversations that Lydia wanted to avoid.
“Morning, sunshine,” Cathy shouted from further down the street. Slowing her stride, Lydia waited for the older woman to catch up. “You on shift as well?”
“Yup, nine ‘til four. You?”
“Same, love. Oh, I’m glad it’s you with me today. I worked with Harrison yesterday. My God, that kid is dumber than a bag of rocks.”
Lydia tittered. “He’s working today too. He’s an interesting character.”
“No, he’s not. That’s the problem.”
“He’s just shy Cathy. The poor lad has to work with us. I was shy when I first started too if you remember.”
“I do,” Cathy laughed. “You were so quiet. Now look at you!”
To most people, Lydia was a fun, outgoing woman. For the most part, that was a correct assessment. What her colleagues didn’t see were the tears, frustration, and pain. Lydia kept that to herself. Fe, their mum, and Halle—Fe’s best friend—were the only ones who knew the full extent of Lydia’s misery.
“We’ll coax him out of his shell. Don’t give up on him yet, Cathy.”
They’d just rounded the corner when Cathy spotted the bus pulling up to their stop. “Bugger, come on. We need to make a dash for it.”
Planting a hand across her chest, Lydia set off at a jog. Her bra was not made for running. The ladies would be all over the place if she didn’t keep them locked down with her arm.
“Made it,” Cathy huffed, her face red. The morning air was chilly, and a light frost covered the ground. “Thanks for waiting,” she directed to the bus driver who was stealing—not so subtle—glances at Lydia’s chest.
Cathy paid both their fares and ushered Lydia to the back of the bus, away from the driver’s wandering eyes. “Ugh, men.”
Lydia barked out a laugh. Cathy was a known man-eater. “Yeah, men,” she giggled.
“The saying’s true, you know. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them.”
“No hunk on the horizon, then?”
“I didn’t say that.” Cathy winked, tossing her golden hair dramatically over one shoulder. At one time, Lydia had a slight crush on Cathy. She was extremely good looking and even though she was ten years plus Lydia’s senior, she was captivating. The crush fizzled as fast as it started, though.
