Halloween 2002
The "Out of Candy" sign is on the front door. The half-drunk bottle of wine is on the coffee table. The shirt she wore today is on the floor by the door to the kitchen. Trina is on the couch. And Bryan's hand is on the zipper on her skirt.
Which is when the phone rings four times before Trina's cheerful voice fills the room. "This is Trina, leave a message."
"Trina, it's Mom. Could you call me the moment you get this please?"
"You need to call her?" Bryan asks.
"Not at this instant," Trina says. Whatever Lynn is upset about can wait. Especially given what Bryan is, at present, doing with his tongue.
"Good," he says, his mouth drifting down to her -- and he then stops and looks up, as across the room, her cell phone rings for 20 seconds before falling silent, then rings again.
"It's nothing," she says, again, "just igno--"
The phone rings again. "This is Trina, leave a message."
"Trina, are you screening your calls? Because I need to talk to you right now. Pick up the phone, please."
"Oh, go to hell," Trina mutters, and then adds hastily, "Not you, Bryan. Her."
"We'll just ignore her," Bryan says, repeating her advice. And it's easy to, really, because he is doing his damnest to be distracting, and Trina isn't really listening to what Lynn is saying.
Until ". . . your help with Logan."
Shit.
Trina disentangles herself from Bryan and picks up the phone. "I'm here. What is it?"
The apartment is quiet for a several minutes, while Lynn lectures Trina on not answering her phone more promptly, and on her responsibilities to her family and so on and Trina drums her fingers on the kitchen counter and waits for her stepmother to get to the point. Bryan sits sulking on the couch, finishing off the wine.
"All right," Trina says finally. "I'll take care of it." She hangs up.
Bryan wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her back onto the couch. "Now where we before we so rudely interrupted?" he asks.
Trina shoves him away and gets up. "Bryan, I'm sorry, I have to go," she says, pulling her shirt on over her head.
"What? Now? You can't leave now. I'm . . ."
"Take a cold shower," Trina says unsympathetically, looking for her purse.
"Trina, I can't--"
"I'll be back," she says, digging her keys out of her purse, not answering his question. "You wait if you want, or you can go."
"Trina--"
"In or out, Bryan."
Fifteen minutes later, Trina is standing in front of Neptune High School, waiting for Principal Morehead to escort her drunken little brother out of the school Halloween party. And Bryan is just one more in her string of failed relationships.
Which is when the phone rings four times before Trina's cheerful voice fills the room. "This is Trina, leave a message."
"Trina, it's Mom. Could you call me the moment you get this please?"
"You need to call her?" Bryan asks.
"Not at this instant," Trina says. Whatever Lynn is upset about can wait. Especially given what Bryan is, at present, doing with his tongue.
"Good," he says, his mouth drifting down to her -- and he then stops and looks up, as across the room, her cell phone rings for 20 seconds before falling silent, then rings again.
"It's nothing," she says, again, "just igno--"
The phone rings again. "This is Trina, leave a message."
"Trina, are you screening your calls? Because I need to talk to you right now. Pick up the phone, please."
"Oh, go to hell," Trina mutters, and then adds hastily, "Not you, Bryan. Her."
"We'll just ignore her," Bryan says, repeating her advice. And it's easy to, really, because he is doing his damnest to be distracting, and Trina isn't really listening to what Lynn is saying.
Until ". . . your help with Logan."
Shit.
Trina disentangles herself from Bryan and picks up the phone. "I'm here. What is it?"
The apartment is quiet for a several minutes, while Lynn lectures Trina on not answering her phone more promptly, and on her responsibilities to her family and so on and Trina drums her fingers on the kitchen counter and waits for her stepmother to get to the point. Bryan sits sulking on the couch, finishing off the wine.
"All right," Trina says finally. "I'll take care of it." She hangs up.
Bryan wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her back onto the couch. "Now where we before we so rudely interrupted?" he asks.
Trina shoves him away and gets up. "Bryan, I'm sorry, I have to go," she says, pulling her shirt on over her head.
"What? Now? You can't leave now. I'm . . ."
"Take a cold shower," Trina says unsympathetically, looking for her purse.
"Trina, I can't--"
"I'll be back," she says, digging her keys out of her purse, not answering his question. "You wait if you want, or you can go."
"Trina--"
"In or out, Bryan."
Fifteen minutes later, Trina is standing in front of Neptune High School, waiting for Principal Morehead to escort her drunken little brother out of the school Halloween party. And Bryan is just one more in her string of failed relationships.