2007-12-23: I Just Called to Say He Loves Me

Starring:

Trina_icon.gif

Summary: Trina makes a phone call to tell her very first person that she's engaged. (OOC Warning: Angry Trina. A few cuss words ensue.)

Date It Happened: December 23, 2007

I Just Called to Say He Loves Me


Jack & Trina's Apartment

It was early. Crazy early.

The day before Christmas Eve.

Trina wakes up to soft, nostalgic remembrances of holidays with a three foot pine from the backyard of her grandmother's boss sitting in the corner of the living room, decorated with large bulbs of red, yellow, green and blue that only dwarfed the diminutive tree by wrapping round it. Popcorn strings counter crossing. Tinsel. Ornaments so old that they were all bought before Trina was ever born. And underneath that tree, two presents. Red and green, all vibrant and alive and contrasting with a breath-taking effect the goldenrod and avocado floral wallpaper. Christopher Lowell likely would have keeled over dead if he had ever gotten within a 50 yard radius.

It had been just them for so many years. Christmas after Christmas, lighting a candle for a missing daughter and mother and watching 'It's a Wonderful Life'. Seventeen years.

And then they ripped each other from their lives with such brutal and visceral force, leaving arterial sprays of pain and anger across the faces of everyone they met for years afterwards. There was only venom to spew at each other, protecting the delicate balance of whatever sanity they had left.

Until Trina left Georgia altogether.

Now, here it is. Two Christmases have passed with grandmother and granddaughter not having said even a word to each other.

Heaving a breath, the brunette hauls herself out of bed and pulls on Jack's hooded sweatshirt. Then it's down to the phone. She doesn't hurry, but doesn't drag it out, either. It's a smooth, controlled, determined walk. It's not until the phone is physically in her hands and the number is dialed that she hopes for a moment that the number has been disconnected or changed, and that she is absolved of this self-created responsibility to call. Even as it rings, her eyes lift to the ceiling as she hopes her fervent hope.

And then there's a voice on the other end. A familiar voice. And suddenly she feels seventeen and scared all over again, the young woman hunching her shoulders as she slumps down onto the couch.

"Hi, Gramma." Trina bites her lower lip, waiting for the reply. It's a longtime in coming, but finally the phone activates again with the murmur of an elderly woman. "Yeah, it's me."

"It's almost Christmas," the motorhead replies in response to the terse, long-distance questioning. "I thought that maybe I'd call… and check in." And then she holds her breath, eyes scrunching tightly shut. "New York." She listens to the brief, hot berating that comes across the wires and almost patiently waits for her turn as she reaches across the coffee table for her pack of cigarettes and lights up. Eventually it comes. Trina takes a deep breath, and then offers her grandmother the opportunity to see her daughter's child vulnerable and desperate for approval.

"I'm… I'm engaged, Gramma. I just thought you'd—" Trina's head rears back suddenly, drawing the phone away for an instant so she can stare at it in disbelief. Then she furrows her brow as anger starts to come forth, frantically sweeping in to help save shambles of a crumbling hope. The lighter is slammed down on the table. The cigarette she had been attempting to light is ripped out of her mouth and smashed in her hand.

"What?! No. I'm not pregnant. That's not why he— He's a good guy. He owns his own bar and every— No, we're not in trou—"

Then something that Nancy Mah says snaps the pathetic shell of Trina's good intentions in half, sending her screaming into the phone on top of the words that her grandmother is screaming back at her. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU OLD HAG. I was trying to be a good fuckin' granddaughter! It's not my fault that you won't let me! You don't want me to call? FINE. That's just fine. I just want you to know that he loves me. He really loves me, and we're happy. So you can kiss my ass! …I ain't gonna sit here and apologize for that! You wanna look me up sometime, Den of Iniquity, Manhattan. Otherwise, don't 'spect to hear from m— No, YOU HAVE A GREAT LIFE."

END CALL.

Trina seethes in her spot on the couch for a few moments, sucking in shuddering breaths until finally she stretches out the hand that shakes under her fury to get her lighter back and a fresh bit of nicotine. "Bitch," the woman finally spits out before settling back against the back of her couch to smoke her cigarette, letting the smoke burn away that frustration and rejection and fear and doubt. Or at least… That's the plan.

She should have known better than to get up early.

Nothing good ever comes of it.

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