A Life More Complete(31)
“Thank you, Jacob. If you have any trouble reaching Trini, please feel free to contact me.”
“Thank you, Ms. Mullins. Have a nice day.”
I hang up with Jacob as I pull into Trini’s driveway, punching the code into the key pad, the wrought iron gate swings open and I meander up the brick paved driveway. Trini’s house is a custom built Tuscan showcase in the West Hills. It’s the house that Trini Knows Best built. No expense was spared with its infinity pool overlooking the canyon, island kitchen with Viking range and marble counters, impeccably decorated, every detail mulled over by interior designers and architects until it looked like it was air lifted from Italy and randomly dropped on two acres in the middle of California. It’s an oasis to the unknowing eye, but to all who have walked on its lush green grasses, swam in its crystal blue waters or slept on its high percale Egyptian cotton sheets know it to be a prison. You’d think anyone would enjoy the solitude of a quiet home, but day after day of overwhelming silence can wear on a person, even make them a little crazy.
I use my key to let myself in and before I even cross the threshold, Lupe comes hustling toward me in a huff. Lupe is Trini’s housekeeper. She’s Columbian with a heavy accent and broken English. She’s outlasted every single one of the people in Trini’s hire because she does as she’s told. To say Trini liked her would be stretching it, tolerated is more like it. But for some reason, Lupe never gets sick of Trini’s bullshit and she placates her the way no one else will. I can tell by the look on her face she’s been given explicit orders to follow; in addition to that she knows I’ll never abide by those orders and it makes her nervous. Yet she gives her best attempt.
“Miss Kristin. How are you?” She hugs me briefly and begins to wring her hands.
“I’m fine, Lupe. Is Trini home?” I know she is, I ask anyway, delaying the inevitable, also giving Lupe time to adjust to me being here unannounced.
“Oh that good,” she says nodding her head. “Miss Katrina says no bother her today.”
“I’ll let her know you said that when I wake her up,” I say smiling as I move past Lupe and take the stairs two at a time. Lupe retreats to whatever she was doing before my arrival mumbling under her breath.
I fling open the door to Trini’s bedroom and it bangs loudly off the wall behind it. Pressing my hand to the light switch, the room glows brightly from the overhead, decorative chandelier. Trini doesn’t even flinch. I peel the covers back and the smell is overpowering. She reeks of cigarettes and bong water mixed with booze and vomit. Her pillowcase is smeared with the remains of last night’s eye makeup as her mouth hangs open and her matted and ratty hair is splayed out over her face. I want to scream at her, school her on decorum and then walk away for good. But I won’t because I’m a sucker, a slave to my job and maybe just a good person. I lean down and shake her slightly as I whisper her name.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses, her voice hoarse.
“Lupe tried to stop me.”
“At least she tried. Can you go now? I want to go back to sleep.”
“No. I’m not leaving. What is going on? Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to. My therapist was already here. She told me if talking about my issues is too difficult I should revisit them later. I’m taking her advice. Now get out.” She rolls over and pulls the covers over her head.
“Did you ever think that I’m here because I care about you? Maybe that’s why Lupe and I are the last ones still around? Now get your ass out of bed.”
“Fuck off.”
“You can be angry with me. I can take it.”
“It’s not you.” Her voice softens just a bit. “You’re just here. The only one who will stand here and take it.” She breathes in deeply. “I’m angry.”
“I know you’re angry and I know it’s not me you’re angry at. That’s why I’ll be here, so you have an outlet, someone to direct that anger at. I love you. You can say what you want to me and I’ll forgive you. I’ll keep coming back and it’s not because you pay me. Don’t even use that excuse.”
“Whatever.”
“If you want to scream at me, fine. If you want to cry, that’s fine, too. But you won’t push me away; you won’t alienate me the way you did everyone else.”
“You’re all I’ve got,” she says and it nearly kills me.