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Dennis laid in his bed, watching an episode of Friends as Emma laid on his chest, snoring quietly. The soft sound of the laugh track was drowned out by his phone buzzing loudly on the nightstand.
Trin 🖤
He sighed as he picked up his phone, “He-”
“Fuuck you! Fuck you.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. She always decided to go hard when she was with Garcia, trying to keep up or show off.
“Trinity, what’s going on?”
“I loved you. You know? Looooved you. I gave you so. Many. chances. You wasted them on her? I was great until I met you. Fuck you. Fuuuuck you.”
She was walking down the sidewalk as she stumbled in her kitten heels, screaming into her phone. She was slurring her words, holding the speaker to her mouth, phone pointed directly in front of her. She wasn’t even sure where she was going. Though home sounded like the best idea. With Dennis. And Emma. And her bed. And not fucking Yolanda.
“Trinity. What is going on?!”
Dennis’ voice broke through her drunken haze enough that a confused noise escaped her lips.
“Huckleberry?”
She almost sounded relieved, emotional maybe. His heart fell, she sounded scared. Alone. He realized that she probably was alone, and she definitely was drunk.
“Yeah honey, what’s going on. You’re screaming at me, I can hear the cars in the background, and I can hear how drunk you are. Do you want me to come get you? Can I please come get you?”
She hiccuped as she sat on a set of stairs that she had found.
“You know where to find me.”
Her defeated tone was joyous to him, obviously too tired to fight him. He instantly slid out of the bed, throwing on his slippers and a t-shirt which had been previously discarded to his desk chair.
“I’m on my way. Don’t leave that spot. Don’t let anyone fuck with you.”
“Awh Huck, you sound so protective. So sweet.”
“Yeah, yeah. See you soon loser.”
She hung up and he leaned over to shake Emma gently.
“I’ve got to go get Trinity. She’s fucking wasted somewhere in Pittsburgh. Alone. Crying.”
“Oh. Poor baby. Go get her”
With that she laid her head back down and was out almost instantaneously. He smiled and shook his head, unsure if she would even remember this interaction the morning.
He raced out to the old truck which he bought off of Facebook Marketplace about five months after he started living with Trinity. It was old enough that he could fix it, and it was a standard. It was basically impossible to steal, and he could push start it if it was too cold outside for the battery to charge. It was dated, but it was his.
His thoughts were racing the entire drive, Trinity’s location pulled up on his phone. He glanced down to his thigh every few minutes to ensure that he was going the right way with about fifteen minutes to go. Wherever she went, it was far. On the North side of the city. He could only imagine her trying to walk home as cars whizzed past her. Or worse. Tried to help her.
He pushed the gas a little harder, the minutes on his GPS ticking by. Fifteen minutes turned to seven, and then he was pulled up next to the curb, hopping out of the truck and walked to the stoop where she was sitting. A tall figure was standing over her which made him walk faster.
“HEY!”
His voice was deep, causing the figure to jump.
“STAY THE FUCK BACK!”
Garcia’s voice hit his ears, which caused him to feel both enraged and relieved.
“It’s me. I’m taking her home. What are you doing here, Yo?”
“Talking to her. Just. Give us space Huckleberry.”
“Don’t call me that. Dennis is fine.”
Trinity looked between them, her eyes were red and watery. She looked wrecked, and he had a suspicion that Garcia was absolutely the reason for it. She had been the last three times this happened.
“Give us space.”
“She called me to take her home. Actually she called me meaning to call you. I got a nice ‘fuck you’ and ‘i LOVED you,’ and ‘You wasted them on HER?’ and I just can’t help but think that you’ve done quite enough.”
“She did call me. Told me she wanted me to take her home, that she missed me. I live right around the corner, she didn’t mean to call you. I can take care of her. I have before. It will be fine, Dennis. Just go home, don’t worry I’ll deliver her in the morning.”
He felt anger bubble beneath his skin as heat rose to his head. Garcia’s voice was fake, laced with pettiness and competition– Trinity silent as she glanced between the two. She looked like a child who was watching her parents fight above her, like the anger would turn to her.
“No. You’ve led her on for the last TWO fucking years, broken up with her so many times I’ve lost count, and then come back around when you get bored. You’re stringing her along. You don’t know how to take care of her. I do. She is MY best friend. She is MY priority. So she’s going to come home with me, and you’re going to FUCK off. Because that’s what she wants. Trinity come on, lets go home.”
He reaches out a hand and sent a silent prayer to whoever would listen that she would take it.
His prayer was answered. Her clammy hand hit his and laced their fingers together. She pulled herself up and steadied herself beside him before they walked off, without saying anything else. Trinity felt a deep pang of guilt, looking back at Yolanda.
She stared back at her, watching the pair as he led her to the truck, their hands joined between them. He opened the door, helped her climb in and rolled down the window before he shut the door. She was very drunk and he did not want to clean vomit out of his truck. Just in case.
He drove back carefully, listening to her drunken ramblings about the bar. About Garcia’s new girlfriend, and about how she was sorry it that she let it happen again.
“I shouldn’t a trusted her. Shouldn’tve let her get close again. I knew better. I knew. I just. I wanted her to love me. Wanted someone to love me.”
“I know Trin… I know.”
His tone was pitifully soft, he’s watched her pick herself back up over the last two and a half years. They were more than just fuck buddies. She was living part time at her apartment. She would never admit that, but when you went from seeing someone every day to seeing someone three times a week, their absence became very apparent.
She doesn’t vomit in the truck. The front of the complex; however, was a completely separate topic. Dennis held her hair, rubbing her back and ushering her inside. He was thankful the elevator was running, her arm wrapped around his torso, his around her waist to steady her. She leaned into his body and he held them both up.
“Den?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
His heart pangs and he kissed her temple without really thinking about it. His mom used to do that to him when he was about to cry, a simple stroke of affection after whispering something in his ear about being tough— which he switched with something he always needed to hear.
“Don’t apologize. This is what I’m for. I’ve got you forever. Promise.”
Her lip turned into a pout and she looks up at him.
“Don’t make me cry again!”
“I’m not sure I’d be the one making you cry. Probably Jose Cuervo.”
“How’d you know!”
“I have a nose.”
They shuffled (rather loudly) into their apartment, making sure to shut the door and click the lock behind them. He shook his head at her, watching her sit on the floor to take off her shoes.
“Plus, I know because tequila makes you sad. Always has. Now go change and go to bed. I’ll get you water, a snack, and some ibuprofen.”
“Yes doctor”
He rolled his eyes, glad to that her sarcasm was still shining through the puffy eyes and heavy chest. Dennis moved quickly to gather the hangover prevention kit, getting an old coffee can with a grocery bag inside of it. Just in case.
He knocked on the door, and her voice called for him to come in. He pushed the door open,and his eyes fall to her in a huge t-shirt, laying in the middle of her bed.
“Throw up bucket, water, and medicine. Oh. And some saltines!”
He reached into his pocket and laid the crackers next to the cup of water. He watched as she took the ibuprofen and laid back on the pillows behind her.
“I love you Dennis. Thank you for being my best friend.”
The words stop him, the raw emotion in her voice caused him to pause.
“Uh. Yeah Trin, of course. I love you too. Get some rest, okay?”
“Is Emma over?”
“Yeah, she’s staying over for the weekend. Go to sleep, we can fill her in in the morning. Make all the nurses mad at Garcia.”
“Yeah. Good plan. Fuck that bitch. Take her down from the inside out.”
He walked to the door and flipped off the light as she looked for a YouTube video to sleep to.
“That’s the spirit!”
He walked into his bedroom, sliding into his bed and fitting himself in next to Emma, who grumbled when he got into the bed, greedily clinging to him.
“Trinity here?”
“Yes my love, I got her home safe. We can talk about it in the morning.”
This seemed to satisfy her as she nuzzled into his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lying awake thinking of the interaction with Garcia. He hadn’t been angry like that in years. Probably since his brothers killed the runt piglet.
His father’s pig had piglets. They would sell them— either to local FFA kids or to other farmers. This one was too little. Not dominant enough to demand food, too weak to justify saving. He wanted to rear it, or try to at least. Once it was old enough he could sell it for cheap bacon. The worst part wasn’t that the piglet died. Sometimes that’s just life, especially on the farm.
The worst part is that they played with it, kicking it around and listening to its squeal. They were scaring it, clapping two by fours loudly to get it to run in the other direction. They chased it until it screamed. Dennis heard, running to them.
Stop! Leave him alone!
He’s gonna die anyways, Denny. Might as well have some fun with it.
Have some fun with it!?
It was torture. They were having fun “playing” with the pig, no regards for its feelings.
Dennis was tired of his friend being played with, especially when she had no intention of saving her.
So he would.
Every time.