Work Text:
“Trina, what are you doing here?”
Ava stood up from her desk to greet her young protégé, who had just walked into the gallery.
Trina glanced around the gallery. She hadn’t been away for very long yet, everything seemed so drastically different.
“New exhibit? Who is it?” Trina answered, ignoring her boss’ question, as well as her look of concern.
“Trina,” Ava called, caressing Trina’s arm.
“This is where we first met. It’s where we had…so many important moments. I just…needed to be here. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh,” Ava pulled Trina into an embrace. “Sweetheart, no. You know you’re welcome here anytime.”
Trina held tight to Ava, dissolving into her arms.
“I’m so sorry, Trina.”
Trina did not say anything. She simply swayed with Ava, feeling the softness of her silk blouse and of her skin, smelling the subtle sweetness of her perfume. She let her eyes and her mind wander along the walls of the gallery, peppered with abstracts in acrylic on canvas. Lots of blacks and whites with tiny specks of color peeking throughout.
Suddenly, Trina pulled herself away from Ava. “I’m sorry. You’ve got things to do—“
“Trina, I have nothing to do right now that’s more important than you.” Ava guided Trina by the hand to a bench and they sat down. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”
Trina sighed. “I'm not. I’m numb. I have moments where I feel…in color, but mostly everything is just dark…”
“It’s like part of me wants to accept that he’s gone, because then, it’d be easier to move on with my life. But, another part…feels like it went into the river with Spencer and resides wherever he is and…I feel like I can’t move on. I have to stay right here, so it knows where to find me. So he knows where to find me.”
Ava rubbed Trina’s hand as she listened. No stranger to loss—no stranger to a loss where it felt like her entire world had ended, Ava understood the sentiment. Understood there was little she could say, little she could do to ease Trina’s pain. To help her make sense of something as inevitable as the death of a loved one, yet also as unimaginable.
“As you know,” Ava began, “Spencer and I shared a contentious relationship. It wasn’t always like that. He and I used to be very close. We bonded over our war wounds—“ Ava touched the part of her face that had been burned so many years ago—“and over the loss, or what we thought was the loss of Nikolas. Which is why he felt so betrayed by me. I understood his anger, even if I didn’t appreciate the way he expressed it. But, I’ll tell you what: the Spencer who left for Paris with you was a far cry from the cocksure, petty, vindictive prince that returned to Port Charles from boarding school. And that was all you. Your influence. And I was really proud of him. And you.”
Trina smiled. “He worked so hard. And we had talked about his plans—he wanted to find his life’s passion in Paris while I went to school. I mean, I think he always knew he’d join the family business one day, but that would have been more out of obligation. Or necessity. He spent so long feeling forgotten or pushed aside or vengeful that he never stopped to look at his life to see what it could become if he just let those feelings go. The hurt. The wanting to prove he was worthy of people’s attention. And of their love.”
“And that last night—“ Trina choked back tears. “The things that he said to me…he was so… hopeful. So focused on the good that was to come…”
“I was so sure,” Trina continued, “that he was my future. It took us so long to get together. So long to make things right. I think I knew from the beginning, just as he did, that we were each other’s forever. No matter who or what got in the way. I’ve never felt more alive than when we were together. The way he looked at me—he told me often that I was the best thing that ever happened to him—“
“You were,” Ava interjected.
“Well…he was the best thing that ever happened to me. When I was with him I felt…weightless and powerful and listened to and adored. And I don’t get how I’m just supposed to wake up everyday and accept that I’m not going to see his face or hear his voice…”
Trina glanced over at Ava, whose tears ran freely, silently down her cheeks. She leaned over so that their temples touched. Seeing Ava’s grief made Trina proud in a way. There was no love loss between Ava and Spencer, but their mutual affection for Trina had bartered a truce. Cordiality, even. And here Ava was now, shedding live and in color tears over the loss of him.
Trina squeezed Ava’s hand. “I’m sorry, Ava. I know you’re hurting, too.
“I am, but you don’t need to worry about me. You just need to take care of yourself. Take time for yourself—all the time you need, Trina. Nobody is expecting you to just move on. You two had a very strong connection. Anyone who ever saw you in a room together, or who heard him talk about you or you talk about him knew it. That’s not something that you’re going to get over tomorrow or next week or next month. So, if you feel pressure from anybody—including yourself—I want to know about it.”
Ava’s implied threat elicited a chuckle from Trina, which pleased Ava greatly. “I love you, sweet girl. And I’m here for you always.”
“Thank you, Ava. I love you, too.”