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Trinity Santos could be mean.
Today explained as much as it needed to be without saying it directly. According to her therapist in high school, she wasn’t just loud or judgmental because she wanted to be. It was because she cared. She was a passionate person who needed to be heard and taken seriously. Having a history of not being treated as a person will do that to you.
Who wouldn’t want to be treated as such?
By all means, Trinity Santos could be mean. Even a bitch. She will call you a clever (meanish) nickname, or make fun of your stumble as you try to remember what your resident was asking you while you're putting in a chest tube she wanted to perform, but whatever.
She wasn’t a mean person.
Or at least that’s what she used to think, until today when she got a total of a classic 3 times that she was aggressive, trouble, and oh, an insufferable, stupid, arrogant know-it-all who doesn’t belong here.
What the fuck ever.
Frank frickin Langdon will be fired soon enough. He’d have to be. Right?
“Thank you so much again, Trinity. I mean, seriously." Whitaker prompted again as Trinity drove through the half-wicked traffic that was going on post PittFest casualties.
“Yeah, yeah.” Trinity mocked, “Rather take you in than let you have a chance to upstage my attendance.”
Whitaker rolled his eyes playfully until his eyes widened.
“I can take the bus. You wouldn’t have to-”
“And let you spend whatever amount you have left on you to keep refilling your bus card?” Whitaker looked helpless, having not thought about the bus for what Trinity could imagine for a while.
“But if you're not in this car by 6 sharp you might just have to.” Trinity warns and Whitaker nods. “Got it.”
“Good.” Trinity ends the conversation but Whitaker is not one for sitting in silence, apparently.
“So…are you from here?”
Trinity shook her head lazily, “Nope.”
“Oh. Where are you from?”
“California. Los Angeles. Although I was actually born in London.”
Whitaker smirked, “Really.”
“Uh, yeah. My parents were on vacation, and so I was born around a bunch of tea-drinking old white brits.” She joked, which made Dennis smile. He had such a boyish smile for 26. She guesses she could say the same for herself.
“That’s pretty funny.”
“Yeah. Though I’ve only been once, which was a total disaster.”
“What did little Trinity do?” Whitaker asked in a fake skeptical tone.
What didn’t she do? What didn’t she do with Kayla? Whitaker didn’t need to know that part.
“I got yelled at when I scared a guard at Buckingham palace.” She grinned, silently proud of that achievement.
Whitaker snorted. “God poor guy probably got suspended.”
“Worth it.”
“So why’d you leave LA, they have good residency programs?”
Trinity shrugged. “I needed something different. I didn't want to be stuck with my parents around like Crash.”
“I heard." Whitaker hummed. “It must be hard enough living with your already high achieving parents that young. Can’t imagine having them upstairs at your work.”
“God her mom’s hot though.”
“Trinity!” Whitaker gasped genuinely astonished.
“What!?” Trinity laughed at his hand on his chest almost like a mother clutching her pearls. “Am I wrong?”
“I do not feel comfortable answering that.” He declared looking through the window.
“No fun. She’s not here.” Trinity reasons. “Unless it’s her dad you're eyeing and if that’s so I cannot see it, Huckleberry.”
“I-I…no. No, of course not.” Whitaker started before muttering to himself. Even with the given proximity she couldn’t hear him.
“What was that?”
Whitaker didn’t answer.
“You're not…” Trinity tried to not find the insane concept. “You’re not weird about that stuff are you? Like with being gay?” She said out loud making Whitaker’s head whip in her direction, she saw in the corner of her eyes his eyes widened. Scared or guilty?
Shit.
“NO!”
Oh.
“No! No of course not, that. You are- I’m-I’m,” Whitaker hands making a back and forth from himself and the window shield.
Oh…
“Your…not homophobic because…you are…” Trinity drags, unsure whether to continue.
Whitaker pauses and sighs deeply.
“I’m sorry.”
Trinity shakes her head.
“You're fine. You’re okay. I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna realize half way on the drive I’m bringing a bigot to my apartment and into a room next door to mine.”
“I’m not. I promise.”
Trinity snorted. “I know. You’ve just said why. Sorta.” She glances at him. His head is down.
“Is it safe to assume you are sorta…like me?”
Whitaker’s mouth twitches one side to another, thinking.
“You don’t have to-”
“It’s just a little weird, you know?”
“How come?”
Whitaker just shrugged, “I mean I’m from Broken Bow, not Omaha or Lincoln. Not very blue. Did college near home on scholarship. I didn't make a lot of friends, kept to myself. I was a theology major.”
“Fair enough,” Trinity says stopping at a red light. “So does anyone know?” She says with a heightened tone at the end.
Whitaker shakes his head. Trinity sucks in a breath.
“Am I the first person you- you've told?”
Whitaker nods. His face scrunches up and breathes out his nose, his eyes glossing over.
“Okay,” Trinity mumbles as she drives on, looking back at the road and then Whitaker, who looks as if he’s shrunk into himself.
Soon enough, Trinity parks in the back of an unleveled rocky lot. She looks at Dennis who looks out the window, like a stray cat watching their grounds, seeing if anything is going to attack. She lets out a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to say anything you weren’t ready to. These things take time. No matter how long.” She apologizes looking at the back door of the beige apartment building.
“You didn’t,” Whitaker says simply looking back at her which makes Trinity look back.
“I said everything unforced.” He smiles, a very hard smile. Trinity doesn’t smile back.
She wants to ask more. Wants to say more but she should give the boy some damn space. At least till they're upstairs.
“Anything else I should know about you? Any allergies? Sleep paralysis? How many times do you get up to pee in the middle of the night? Are you secretly Spider-Man?”
Dennis took it all into consideration.
“No. I have allergies in the spring. No. Once, maybe. Don’t really know how’d I get away with the last one. Unless you catch me half naked again getting into my suite.”
Trinity smirks at that.
“Welp,” Trinity says awkwardly, “Here we are. I have an extra key upstairs so no need to call the landlord. Also I don’t really have a landlord so it’ll be easy to sneak you in with nothing to sign since you’re not paying for anything.” She pulls the key out of the ignition, taps on her steering wheel, and opens the car door.
“We’re on the 3rd floor and there is no elevator so don’t pant on me. ”
“Got it.” Whitaker says getting out of the car picking up his backpack.
Whitaker doesn’t pass out but he does give a little huff when they reach the third floor which Santos shamelessly mirrors though adds more effort to act like 3 flights of stairs are a piece of cake. She really needed to go back to the gym.
“Well here she is, take off your shoes please.” She points to the rack near the door which makes Whitaker's eyebrows kiss.
“Uh, okay. Won’t anyone steal them?” He asks and she gives a small laugh. “That’s when I grab my baseball bat. Also who wants a pair of stinky shoes I’ve had for 6 years? Though after today I’m definitely getting new ones, my feet hurt like shit.” She grumbles, slipping them off near a pair of white Asics for daily walks, some Doc sandals she’ll put on when she needs to head to the Walgreens or grocery store just 5 minutes away, and some slippers she has after she slips off her work shoes.
“I have an extra pair for the apartment so you don’t leave your sweaty little feet prints everywhere.”
“I’m not that sweaty,” Whittaker defended while checking out the floor after walking a few steps on the dark wood floors before noticing the tall ceilings, multiple windows just in the living room and mini breakfast bar with enough space to cover two trauma’s at the same time.
“Woah, nice place.”
“Uh, thanks. Really, compliments go to my aunt, she furnished everything and left everything else to me. She’s an interior designer.”
“Oh, nice. She has very good taste.”
Trinity nodded, walking over the sink to wash her hands.
“So…ya hungry? There’s a good Thai place still open or I can do pizza. I have things to make a salad.” She lists drying off her hands, turning back to Whitaker, who is standing in the middle of the room like Charlie Brown before being offered to kick the football.
“Well, jeez, Huckleberry, sway a little.”
“Sorry, should I put my bag here…” He says to the floor near the couch.
“Let me show you to your room where you can do whatever,” Trinity says as she turns to the end of the hall that has two doors next to each other.
“Thin walls,” Trinity says, knocking on the wall between the clean white doors. “So no spicy time while I’m here, save that for when you have alone time.”
Dennis cringes but follows her lead.
“This is my room, no boys allowed.” Trinity opens the door to the bigger of the two, half-messy room with an unmade bed and a couple of dishes sprawled around one the desk on top of a pile of books and a side table with a couple of glasses with metal straws with wires slithering through.
The walls were like a periwinkle blue making the room have a sense of calm. A mix of new and old furniture, a chest that reminded him of a pirate chest with a mirror perched on the wall. A flowery ceramic lamp in the corner of a dresser with a bookcase built in the wall. Books as well as paintbrushes in mugs and perfumes, and a bottle of hot sauce… Almost reminded Whitaker of his brother, who had a very high tolerance.
“Days off, I will be in bed till 12, don’t judge. Not a light sleeper so if the apartment is burning down you're gonna have to shove me awake but if you do on any other occasion I will hit you.” She points out and he nods with a small smile.
“This is your room,” She opens the door to a yellowish beige room which was smaller but already furnished with a naked mattress with a wooden bedframe, a side table with a lamp that looked like it was from the library, smart and studious complementing a framed poster of a map on the wall.
Trinity stepped in and opened a closet with a plastic bag of new navy blue bedding she pulled down easily after shrugging off her backpack on the floor.
“Here we go, it’s cotton so it’s breathable and we have a central ac and do not touch, if you’re cold there’s extra blankets,” She points back to the closet. “Also towels are in there. Whichever ones you use make sure I never do. And sorry with the gap year traveler aesthetic, my aunt likes a theme,” Trinity says sarcastically and Whitaker shakes his head looking around.
“It’s perfect. It’ll make me live carelessly through them, a vacation I could only think of.” He jokes watching Trinity open the bathroom.
“You can say that again sister. So here is your bathroom. I’m a night shower person so please do not use all of the hot water or else-”
“You’ll hit me.” He finishes and Trinity snaps her fingers like she’s clapping.
“You’re catching on to Huckleberry.” She says walking out.
“So get settled. Wash up, I have some body wash minis and a loofah under the sink. I can show you the washer and dryer after dinner, you can do a load whenever I just finished mine.” She says looking at Whitaker’s one backpack and duffle bag.
He really carried his whole life in two bags for more than a month. She doesn’t want to think before that. She wanted answers but she’d let her come to him. God knows what his family thought about being gay in Nebraska. Did he talk to them at all? Did they know where he was? What was he doing? That he was almost graduating in less than a year.
“So is pizza cool?” She says and he nods politely.
“That would be great, yeah. Thank you. I’m okay with whatever.”
Trinity nods. “I’ll meet ya out in 20 and we can watch something. If you want, unless you wanna call it night, which is very understandable.”
Whitaker perks up at the offer.
“No, no, um, that sounds nice. It's been a minute since I shared a meal with someone.”
And that. That’s what almost, almost makes her break.
“Yeah, same.” Trinity smiles gently before picking up her bag and heading to her room to strip off her clothes and put them in her dirty laundry basket. She wraps herself in her fancy bathrobe she’s had since she was 22 as a graduation gift. Her initials were embroidered like a hotel robe. One of the less awful gifts her mom has given her throughout her life.
Picking up her phone she quickly orders a cheese and a pepperoni as a safe bet as well as some more garlicky bread because they have earned more carbs and marinara sauce to lull them to sleep. She taps on the first podcast from YouTube which is just some movie review she hasn’t seen yet but it’s able to fill in some empty space which is what she needs and it’s short lasting her through applying skincare and picking out pajamas that she thinks a little too much about.
She doesn’t wanna look like a slob but it’s also 10 pm and she’s already seen him shirtless and there’s nothing she wants to impress in the other room. She settles on some basketball shorts which she’s never played outside of gym class and an oversized T-shirt that she thrifted not too long ago.
Maybe she’d check it out again and bring Whitaker along to decorate his room or something. She could spare her last pity allowance from her dad on something other than frivolous purchases like designer jeans or donate it to any local charity. She’d have to ease it in, though, so Whitaker didn’t feel like a local charity. She was lucky he took the offer at all.
Either he was insanely desperate to lessen his chances of getting caught sleeping in the hospital there is a weird acknowledgement that Whitaker felt comfortable enough to move in with her. To come out to her.
He wasn’t the first person to come out to her college roommate’s childhood best friend drunkenly spilled one night during freshman week. Confessing her love for her best friend of 9 years.
That was messy as hell and she doesn't know whatever happened to them.
Pray to the Lesbian gods.
Her phone buzzes letting her know the food is here waiting outside her door which she’ll always bless for DoorDash not getting rid of the social distancing feature. She faces the music closely, listening to the room next to her which is empty because the occupant is in fact in the kitchen making the salad kit from the grocery store.
“Oh, thanks, Whitaker, I could have made it though.” She says, opening the door and crouching down to pick up their food.
“Hope you don’t mind. Kitchens are usually a safe space for me to help in. As well as being a handyman.” He says tossing the salad in a way in which he’s done this many times before.
“Less work for me is good for me, you are free to anything here." She says, getting out two big square plates to pile on their food.
“You can call me Dennis, if you want,” He adds and she looks back with a small smile.
“Have we crossed that line already, Dennis?”
“I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for me confessing my deep closeted secret and us having dinner together, it was the entire day we had,” He tosses his head from side to side. “We’ve crossed the Trinity.”
Trinity looks back at the fridge, “Alrighty, Huckleberry. I also have lemonade, Diet Coke, and beer.” She lists, grabbing a cold silver, and not wanting to enter the alcohol department tonight.
“Uh, lemonade is fine,” Dennis says while she places the bottle in front of him as well as a glass.
“Water is also in the Brita, keep it cold and refilled, please.” She begs with a whine and he takes a mental note of that.
“Got it.”
She takes a sip of her drink while reaching for the remote that turns on the tv and she goes straight to YouTube to find a free movie or a silly video. Her sifting stops when the control hovers over a video of PittFest recorded less than 3 hours ago. Whoever controlled the channel still left it up.
It already feels like forever ago but no. It was today. People died today. People who weren’t supposed to. Some people made it out, they will be going home. Others won’t, their family will have to find them.
She clicks it.
It reads “not available” on the screen and she blinks again and exits out.
“Um, any preferences?” Santos calls out to leave the space that she probably should be sitting in. She can already feel that pain in her chest. The one who has visited her time and time again she found out people could die and disappear so quickly.
She breathes out shakily. She was fine. She was here. Dennis was here. They had to eat and go to bed, and wake up again tomorrow. It’s just how it was.
“Anything really,” She hears Whitaker say, probably giving another shrug. “I don’t watch a lot of TV or movies.”
“Oh, come on, you have to watch something when you're not binge-watching study videos.” She says, turning around.
Dennis piled salad onto both their plates equally. She’d push him to have seconds later, but this was good for now.
“You're gonna judge me,” He confesses, and Trinity smiles. “Probably. What is it? Sesame Street?"
“Great show, but no.”
“Bluey?”
“No. Animated dogs aren’t my thing.”
“National Geographic? Bible animations?"
“It's a comedy. A comedy sketch show.”
“SNL?” She tries, and he squints. She’s getting close.
“It’s like SNL. Made by BYU.”
Trinity blinked. “Mormon university?”
“Yes, but it’s funny! Guilty pleasure since high school.”
Trinity sucks a sharp breath slowly to avoid cackling.
“You watched PG SNL?” She cooed and he defended himself instantly.
“You’d be surprised what they got away with. Almost all of them left the church anyway. 2 of the guys even came out as gay a couple years ago.” He explains offering some hopeful information.
“Well thank god.” She says smiling to herself and she catches a grin from Dennis as he walks over to the coffee table sitting down on the floor. It’s strange to see him so domestic from spending a whole day with the guy but it’s fitting. A new plain t-shirt on as well as his mop of damp hair.
“You have curly hair, you know that?” She says motioning his hair. She started to search up whatever the heck Studio C was.
“Oh, uh yeah, but I try to keep it straight the best that I can. That's why I cut it short.”
Trinity hums, “I feel like you’d suit it. If you ever need a haircut let me know, I know my way around hair.”
“I’ll see, thank you although I’d like to see some credentials.”
“I do! I’ll show you some pics of some friends from the study group I did for them to save a buck.”
“Do you have any brothers? Siblings?” Dennis asked, sipping his lemonade.
Trinity shakes her head, grabs her plate and settles on the floor beside him, which is an odd feeling, she usually eats on the couch or even in bed. She could already feel her ass harden even under the carpet.
“No. I know it's surprising.”
“It’s not, not surprising.” He jokes, and Trinity clicks her tongue.
“Barely an hour here and you’re already getting comfortable, I see.”
Whitaker bubbles up a lighthearted snort. An actual snort.
“Let’s just watch your silly little show, before I change my mind.” She says fondly, knocking his knee.
Whitaker beams as he bumps her knee back.