Chapter Text
“This is the fifth time this semester you’ve gotten in trouble for fighting, Trinity.” Her mother had stated from the drivers seat of the car.
She said her name, Trinity, the way someone might say the word pest or stain. Something unwanted and grotesque.
Her mother’s hardened gaze met hers in the rear view mirror, unwavering like she was looking for any sign of remorse in trinity’s eyes. She would find none. Trinity was not sorry for sending Bradley Greene, the mean kid in her grade, to the nurses office with a black eye and a bloody nose. He started it, pushing her into the metal lockers and making fun of the shape of her eyes.
Besides, remorse would mean Trinity would have to show that she cared. And caring meant vulnerability.
Accidentally bleeding through gauze is the closest thing to vulnerability Trinity had ever come to. And even then it was against her will.
“You’d think I’d be better at it by now.” Was all Trinity said, wincing because talking accidentally pulled on her split lip.
As her mom gripped the faux leather of the steering wheel, her face contorted into a sneer. Her bony fingers possibly making indents.
Her mother was strict to say the least, there wasn’t much room for affection and heart to heart talks in her apathetic parenting style. The pale, thin woman has the personality of a sheet of metal Even at ten, Trinity understood that there was a fine line between rights and privilege. Her mother drilled it in deep. Unforgettable lessons about how she was lucky to be tolerated instead of thrown away like her father.
That was a taboo subject as well.
“You could be expelled for your behavior. Have you been taking your medication? You know how you are without it.” She asked, her voice raising in suspicion. It took everything in her for Trinity to not roll her eyes and mutter some obscenity. She knew better than to talk back at this point.
Yes, she had been taking her medication. In fact it was definitely the pills her mom had been forcing her to take that was making her so off. Anytime she tried to bring it up her mother would silence her. She was the adult, she knew better. Trinity was a child, she knew nothing.
“You don’t want to end up like your father.” She’d insist, “So miserable and pathetic.”
Trinity would grit her teeth at the way her father was talked about. Nothing she said would change how he was treated. She took a breath and worried the spot in her mouth with her tongue where her tooth had come loose last week.
Staring out the window, she watched houses whirring by. Large to small, a culdesac of clay homes. Trinity sometimes counted them in her head on the way home. As if the number would suddenly change just because it was a different day. But she liked the consistency.
“Yes mom, I’ve been taking my medication.” Was all she said glancing at her brother who was sitting right next to her and clearly wanted the conversation to be over.
They moved into another lane and turned right down the road.
“I just don’t know why you behave like this. I mean I give you everything you need to succeed in life and you repay me with your trouble. Can’t you go anywhere and not be trouble?” She spat. They stopped at a red light.
She turned to face her daughter, whose hands were clenched in her lap. She tsk’d and turned back around.
“I’m not trouble.” Trinity insisted.
“Then don’t act like it.”
They turned another corner. Trinity looked over to her brother, Andrew, again. He met her eyes and it felt like someone was squeezing her heart till it hurt. They looked very similar, face shape, eye shape. Even in pictures where they were both smiling it was hard to differentiate them. Especially since she’d cut her hair last summer. It was. It was so much shorter than it used to be, and she preferred it that way.
It was much harder to grab.
Whenever Trinity looked at Andrew it was like facing a mirror. And that hurt sometimes. Especially because their mother very often reminded them that they looked so much like their father.
“Are you paying attention to me, Trinity?” Her mother snapped. Trinity ripped her gaze away from her younger brother. “Yes.” She lied.
She thinned her lips and pulled into their driveway. “Because of your trip to the principals office this afternoon you only have thirty minutes to get ready for gymnastics practice. Be ready outside in twenty, or you’re not going.”
At the mention of gymnastics, Trinity immediately perked up. “Yes ma’am.” She rushed out of the car and inside the townhouse. Andrew silently following after, likely relived to be ignored. Her mother knew how dearly she loved the sport. So much so that she’d used it against her when they fought.
Gymnastics made her feel good. She liked being in control of her body. She liked it when her mother didn’t look at her like she wished she would disappear. Most of all she liked Coach Callahans attention.
The way he would always tell her how proud he was of her. Callahan made her feel special. He always did.
She rushed upstairs, opening the door and shoving her dirty clothes into the hamper. Trinity got ready as fast as possible. Getting dressed with her bag ready, she got done in fifteen minutes, five minutes early. She wore a leotard and a pair of shorts over them. The AC in the gym made her legs feel cold.
When she got back outside her mother was waiting ready by the drivers side door. Impatiently, she looked down at her daughter like she couldn’t even be on time correctly. There was a cigarette in between her fingers. Seeing it made Trinity relax. Whenever her mother was tense, she smoked to calm her nerves. Whenever she didn’t have her Marlboros, she got even worse and it made every conversation an argument.
“Could’ve been faster.” Was all she said, not even sparing her daughter a glance. She dropped the butt of her cigarette and stomped her heel on it.
Smudging the light grey driveway with ash.
———
The gymnasium was large, even from the outside. Had she’d been anyone else, Trinity may have been intimated by the formal lookin building with its grey brick walls and the heavy door. But this place was Trinitys home away from home. Maybe it even felt more like home than her mother’s house did.
Her mom stayed in the car, watching her go inside the doors on her own. She was old enough now where she didn’t need to hide behind her mother to enter the building. She said so herself.
As Trinity pushed her way indoors she waved and smiled at the lady front desk, who always looked more stressed than not. Sometimes Trinity wondered if she needed to smoke too. Genevieve, the lady’s name, greeted her with a tight lipped smile. She signed her in and sent her on her way.
Through the recreation halls were different rooms and smaller gymnasiums. She’d see the weight rooms and the boys basketball team. She also passed the older girls’ gymnastics practice.
Trinity felt ashamed for it, but for the past year since she started gymnastics, she always told her mother that practice started at 4:30.
That was a lie. It started at 4:45. But Trinity loved to come early and watch the other girls practice their routines and see all the hard moves the were training to perform during competitions.
She knew a few of their names. Gabby, Caitlyn, and a very short girl named Allie. Those were the girls that talked to her on their way out. Trinity liked them the best because that never shot her funny looks for being so early to watch. One of them would come over and ask how she was progressing.
It made her sad that all three would be graduating high school and moving away to go to college.
As she entered the gym she placed her stuff down quietly and went to sit by the wall.
Trinity watched and focused a girl with blond hair do a move on the bars that she didn’t even know the name of and felt her heart clench in excitement. If she could improve fast enough, soon she would get to something like that.
She was already excelling in the younger regiments at competitions. Trinitys walls back at home were not covered in boy band posters and magazine cutouts like other girls her age, no.
Slowly but surely her walls were being pinned with medals and ribbons. Every night Trinity would fall asleep staring at the blank side of the wall. Day dreaming about the awards she would receive.
Coming home first place was the only thing that made her mother look at her with something other than distaste. Pride maybe. There wasn’t much she could do to earn that look. Perfect grades were expected. Chores were not even spoken of because Trinity learned early on that she was privileged to be able to have a roof over her head and food on the table.
Trinity did her share.
Eventually the practice ended, it was now 4:35, and Trinity began considering having her mother drop her off even earlier. The older girls all began to leave except for Gabby, who coach had asked to have meet in his office.
The gym was empty, save Trinity. She started warming up early. As the first ten minutes of practice were used as warm ups anyways. The rest of the competition team walked in along with the girls that didn’t compete. While she was stretching her calf’s out on the mat, Claire, a girl with blond hair and a mean face walked over to her and sat right next to her.
“You’re early again.”
“I’m always early.”
Claire smirked at that. “You’re so weird.”
Trinity didn’t see what was weird about that. The older team was like her real life vision board.
“Okay.” Was all she said in response.
She didn’t give an inch to the other girl. Claire thrived on making people mad. She was just as good as Trinity was but with little interest in the sport, so she got bored.
Apparently, bullying was a way to fill the time.
“I’m just saying Trin,” She cut Claire off, “don’t call me that.” She didn’t like that name.
Claire shrugged, “with the way you hang around the other girls and stare at them all the time, it makes you look gay.” “I’m not gay.” She huffed.
Claire was exceptionally good at upsetting her. The main three things people picked at her for was her boyish look, being Asian, and looking gay.
She didn’t respond to the other girl as she just kept talking to her. Warm ups ended and it was now 4:55. The office door opened and Gabby, after spending twenty minutes with Coach Callahan looked violently ill. She picked up her bag and walked quickly to the exit.
“You okay Gabby?” Trinity said. The older girl stopped in her tracks and turned around to look at her. “I’m fine.” She said, her voice breaking. She wore a reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Gabby turned around and left.
Trinity noticed bruise are her arm that wasn’t there before. She chalked it up to her accidentally hitting her arm of something. Coach’s office was cluttered. Beside her Claire leaned in and whispered to her.
“Very, very gay.”
Trinity scooted away a little. “I’m just worried about her.” She didn’t like that hollow look in her face. It reminded Trinity of the one she had before her mother started her on medication. After her boyfriend, Samuel.
“Well, it looked like she was going to cry. Coach Callahan must’ve really torn into her.” Claire said, almost smugly in a way that made Trinity want to punch her.
“Coach wouldn’t do that. He’s really nice to us. He isn’t like Coach Murdock or Coach Brielle.” She defended.
Callahan was notorious for being the “nice coach.” He was the one that hardly ever yelled, and when he did he would apologize for it. He was the coach that knew something was wrong when someone walked in upset. He’d never made once Trinity cry.
“Maybe not to you. You’re his fucking favorite, Trinity.” She snarked getting up and leaving her, sitting with her friends instead.
Coach walked over to them. He was smiling like he’d just gotten great news. He was sweating a little.
“Alright ladies, all warmed up?” He clapped his heads together, signaling the start of practice.
———
Her body ached in a good way. Her hands were dry with chalk and it hurt to breathe a little. All good signs of a successful practice. She’d even come close to perfecting a complex move Coach was working with her on.
Trinity and the others made their way into the locker room to get changed out. Trinity made sure to look directly into her assigned locker and to not make any eye contact with the other girls.
They were already calling her a queer, the last thing she needed was giving them anymore evidence. Even if staring at some of her teammates in this environment made her face redden and her heart pound. Not that it meant anything, she was just embarrassed was all.
Once fully dressed, she shoved her practice gear inside her bag and sat down on the cool metal bench. To keep her eyes busy she stared down at the red peeling skin on her palms from the palm guards. She liked the way they’d bite into her skin, rubbing it off and leaving red marks behind.
Sometimes her mom complained about it, saying it was ruining her hands and that she already looked too much like a boy without the rough hands.
Trinity ignored it, the uneven bars were absolutely worth the price. She didn’t even mind when they started to bleed.
She curled her nails into the irradiated burn and soaked in the feeling. Trinity felt more steady, and in control. A good kind of pain. It was different than the pain from Samuels punishments. It was hers and hers alone.
Eventually everyone peeled out leaving Trinity alone. She still had around ten minutes until her mother showed up to take her home. The locker room door opened and coach was there, looking at her. His expression changed like he was changing it to be fixed.
“Sorry! Should’ve knocked first.” Was all he said making his way over to her and sitting next to her.
“It’s fine. Just me.” Trinity smiled up at him. Up close he was much less intimidating. He was one of those people that looked mean but were much nicer in conversation. His black track suit looked soft and the smile lines in his face made him look trusting. His straw blonde hair peeking from under his cap despite them being indoors. Around his neck was silver looking whistle.
Callahan was close, but it was unintentional. Trinity didn’t mind it anyways.
“You did great on the bars today. I bet tomorrow we’ll get it down.” He praised.
The words settled in her deep and Trinity grinned at him. “Definitely!” She held onto the bench and winced when the ridged in the metal cut into her hands. “Ow!” She winced.
Coach looked at her with concern and held out his hands. “Your hands bothering you? May I see?” He asked.
Trinity held out her palms, out stretched. Her right one was fine, still red and irradiated, but fine. But the other one had started to bleed a little. Coach delicately held her wrists in his hands to her a better look. His hands were so much bigger than hers. Then, suddenly, he made a funny face.
“Ouch. Must’ve cut it in the bench just now. Here,” He let go of her as she continued to hold up her arms. Callahan stayed digging in his pocket and pulled out a very small first aid kit. The kind a high schooler might grab at a career fair. He opened it and pulled out an alcohol wipe and a bandaid.
“Hold still, kid.” He instructed, unwrapping this wipe. “This’ll sting a little.” He murmured to her. He carefully blotted the small cut, cleaning the blood. A pinching pain stung her hand but she didn’t flinch.
“Okay, hard parts over.” He crumbled the wrapping and threw it over to the already overflowing trash can. He smiled at her and bandaged her palm. “There ya go, all done.” He said finally letting her go.
Trinity traced the edge of the bandage and said, “thank you.” Callahan grinned, “always such good manners. Is it still hurting?” He questioned. “Just a little.” It hardly hurt, no more than a dull ache.
“Here,” her reached over and put his thumb over her fingers, pulling her hand towards him. Her pressed his mouth over the bandage, kissing it better. “Feel better?” He said, quietly. Like a secret.
Trinity nodded, ignoring the knot in her stomach telling her something was wrong. Without her noticing Callahan was pressed right up against her. “What time is your mom picking you up kiddo?” Trinity looked down at her watch. “Two minutes.” Genuinely disappointment crossed his face. Trinity felt bad and wanted to message her mom to drive a little slower, just so she could spend more time with her coach. Even with the odd feeling she was getting.
It was probably nothing.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to hang out with my star student.” He reached to move a strand of hair out from her face. He leaned close to kiss her forehead. She ignored the feeling worsening.
This was her coach. She loved him and loved the way he made her feel. Trinity had never felt so special.
Coach wished her goodbye, saying he’d she her tomorrow. She waved at him, and entered the backseat of her mother’s car.
———
She was drunk again, Trinity noticed as her mother prepared dinner. There was a slight sway in her mother’s walk and her vowels were just slightly slurred in only a way she and Andrew might see. She was cooking pancit for them, and Trinity knew not to disturb. Instead she stayed in the living room, helping Andrew with his homework quietly. If they were too loud, their mom would stumble inside and scream at them.
This was even more likely when she was intoxicated. Trinity wasn’t taking the chance.
“Now what do we do?” Trinity prompted. Andrew stared at the math for a second. “Carry the four?” Trinity smiled at him. “Exactly. Now what do we get?” Andrew finished the equation, “thirty-six.” He stated. Trinity ruffled his hair.
She’d always been so proud of him, he was smart like she was. He was already ahead in math and history. He was making really good leaps in science too. Trinity wondered if he’d end up skipping a grade. Andrew was good enough for that, surely.
“Good job.” Trinity said, sliding the finished worksheet into Andrew’s red folder. Not his blue one, god forbid it ended up in green, but his red one. Andrew was a firm believer that math was a red color. Christ he was weird.
Smell came pouring from the kitchen, meaning that it was almost time to eat. She nudged her brother a little. “Magsanay ka para sa hapunan.” She told him.
Go wash up for dinner.
Her nodded and went to the bathroom, rolling his sleeves up. Trinity headed into the kitchen to help her mother set up.
She smelled like that white wine she liked. Trinity didn’t understand her mother’s love for it. She’d once let Trinity have a sip of it, and laughed at the face she made. It was the only time Trinity could think of her mother laughing.
“Make sure to take your medication in the morning, Trinity.” She spoke, looking down at her from where she stood.
She nodded setting the plates up. “Yes ma’am.” Trinity replied in monotone.
Another lie Trinity had been telling her mother for a while now was about her meds. She’d started taking them when she was seven, after her mother had broken with Samuel and he left. She’d been sad for a really long time after that, not because of his absence, god no. But because of what he was like during his six month stay in their townhouse.
Her mother realized after a while that something was wrong with her daughter and set up a meeting with a psychologist. Trinity had not spoken once during the appointment, her mother talking for her.
“She’s been like this for months.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“I believe she has her father’s problem.”
Her father’s problem, or as she called it sometimes, Joseph’s problem. So they prescribed her with something called an anti-psychotic that made her sadness go away. Instead it made her joyless and destructive.
But eventually her medications effect stopped lasting so long. Something altered somehow and about halfway through the day they would wear off. She’d never told her mother this. Preferring the slightly sick feeling the withdraw had given her over her mother’s incessant need to shove pills down her throat.
Trinity played the role of the cruel and empty child in order to convince her mother.
It’s how she preferred her really, Trinity thought. It’s not she was horribly sad right now, but in some kind of limbo. It almost felt normal. Normal like, before the medication, before Samuel.
Her mom deeply hated her when she was like her father. Or so she stated herself.
Trinitys mother told her perspective time and time again, to both her and her younger brother Andrew.
Her father was sick, not in a fatal way but in a different sense. It’s was type of illness that was very common on her father’s side of the family. They get miserable, it doesn’t go away, they find ways to cope.
Trinitys father, Joseph, was sick as well. Her mother explained, coldly, that he could’ve gotten help, from a psychologist or accepted help from the family but he refused. He burrowed into himself, and abused substances.
He was an addict, her mother explained. Dad spent years trying to deal with his mental illness and coped poorly. Her mother stood by and watched him struggle. But then she got pregnant, and Joseph found something worth recovering for.
Trinity thinks that’s what her mother’s revulsion towards her came from.
Her father only got clean because of her. Her mother apparently wasn’t worth the effort. And of course her mother never forgave Trinity for it.
“Dinners ready.” Her mother shouted, tearing Trinity away from her thoughts. She looked down and saw that she’d been washing her hands in the kitchen sink without her noticing. Her mind separated from her body like that sometimes. It was probably nothing.
They all sat down for dinner, her mother gave a silent prayer. Crossing her hands over her body and glancing and the two of them to do the same. Their family was catholic, the irony in her parent’s divorce was laughable.
After Andrew was born, Joseph continued to give both of them all his attention. Mom felt ignored. Resentment grew deeper and deeper. Somehow that was what split them apart. On December 8th of 2002, Her parents finalized their divorce. It was an akward Christmas.
“Can I go to dad’s this weekend?” Andrew asked. Half his plate already gone. Trinitys body tensed from the question. Talking about their dad was again, taboo. Still, he asked every week. Still, the answer was yes. It didn’t stop making her heart beat fast until it hurt.
“I don’t know why you insist on seeing him. But, fine. Less food to prepare, less dishes to do.” Her mother said, talking mostly to herself.
Unfortunately Trinity and her brother ended up living with their mother. They could visit their father on weekends, as Andrew chose to do so, but her mother made it very clear that Trinity was not to see him anymore often than holidays or birthdays. Their strained relationship affected her father’s and hers as well.
Trinity did not like being alone with her mother. With Andrew there was always a mediator. Someone who wasn’t entirely hostile.
Without him there, her mother was different. She drank more, she shouted more. It was just worse.
Silence followed now. Trinity had nothing to say. She just kept her head down and ate.
But because he hated this kind of silence, Andrew made the mistake of talking again.
“I got an A on my English quiz, today.” Andrew said in a quiet voice. Their mother said nothing, she poured herself another glass of wine.
Trinity scowled her mother’s rudeness and turned to Andrew.
“That’s great, Andrew.” She then turned to her mom. Her frown even evident, “Don’t you think so mom?” Her mother chewed, looking up from her plate and making direct eye contact.
Trinity took another bite.
“Not sure what’s so great about it. All Andrew’s doing is what’s expected.” She said. Her forked scraped against the plate as she set it down. Then downed half of her glass in two seconds.
Trinity truly hated her mother’s hypocrisy. How dare she talk about their father’s drug abuse, when she was sitting there drinking her emotions away. Leaving only hatred and envy.
“What’s expected.” Trinity stated. Not a question.
“Exactly.” Her mother said setting the glass down.
“Trinity.” Andrew whispered, tugging on her sleeve under the table. She glanced at him for moment. Seeing his desperation. His desire to avoid conflict was noble, but Trinity wasn’t like him. She couldn’t disappear into the background. At heart she’d always be an instigator.
“And what about your expectations, mom?” She asked. Trinity set her elbows on the table, because her mother was a stickler about manners and she knew it would make her mad.
“Excuse me?” Her mother asked in a dangerously low voice. Her glass was empty.
“For someone with so much to say about how people are meant to behave you don’t exactly live up the standard.” Trinity stopped.
Why did she just say that? Was she trying to get herself killed. The woman across from her was already drunk and angry, has she lost her god damn mind?
Andrew stared down at his plate in horror. Not making a sound. Trinity stared at her mother apathetically. She couldn’t show her fear, not now.
Their mother shoved herself up from the table with so much aggression it made both of the kids flinch.
She walked over to where Trinity was sitting, maintaining eye contact and standing close. Slowly she reached down and picked up her half full plate of pancit and slammed it on the ground. Fine china shattered everywhere along with the food.
Trinity stared down at the ruined dish in horror. She was absolutely not expecting this reaction. Her mother hated wasting food.
She looked up at her mother, “Mo-“ Trinity was slapped so hard across the face her ears rang.
Their mother’s breath shook in rage and she leaned down and spoke to her through gritted teeth.
“If you ever speak to me like that again, you will live to regret it.” She straightened up, looking down at the mess.
“Clean this up.” Was all she said as she walked away, taking this rest of her white wine with her.
Trinity stood with her mouth slightly open, feeling like an idiot. Why did she have to open her big mouth?
Her mother rarely ever raised her hands to Trinity, not once laying hands on Andrew, but it has happened before.
It was only for extreme things, breaking a window, cursing, or saying that she wished her she lived with her father.
Never during an argument like this. Trinity hadn’t even yelled.
As Andrew leaned down next to her to help her clean up, it came to her as a cold realization, like something snapped in her chest. Things would only be getting worse.
That night she stared at the popcorn ceiling of her small room. Her medals and ribbons hanging off of a cork board on her wall. All the shiny metals and gold bursts of color were not enough to warm her.
Instead she curled into herself. Then getting up and checking the lock on the door.
Trinity sat down, then got up and checked again.
And again and again. She’d never take that chance again, not after Samuel.
Finally she laid down. Her warm covers laying heavy as she thought about Coach Callahan.
The way he made her feel. Kisses he pressed into her palm and her forehead. He loved her. Trinity knew what love was because of him.
Feeling cared about outweighed the unsettling feeling about the way he’d look at her. It was fine, because in his eyes she was special.
She even had the medals to prove it.