𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢)

fifty-three [t]

sunday,
july 1st, 2018

TRINITY HAYSON

"What do you mean?" I whine as Charlie switches the TV channels. "I miss him. It's too soon to forget about him. I'm in love with him, Charlie."

"I know," she sighs. "Why not just... take your mind off of him. Let loose and have fun. Can you try and do that?"

I think for a moment. Despite how much I miss Shawn and wish he was here, I know I can't spend all my life moping about how he is pursuing his dream. I slowly begin to nod and Charlie shoots me a sympathetic smile. She leans over and hugs me, kissing my temple.

"I love you, T. It'll get better."

***

Three months.

It's been three fucking months.

I miss him every day. I hope he misses me too. He called me every Friday for the first four weeks, and then our contact dropped to a few texts a week. Now, I'm lucky if I hear from him once a week. It wasn't long before his basketball team blossomed and the press began following them around. I'd see him on the television occasionally, having to switch channels every single time because it hurt to see his face over a screen when I missed him so much.

It's currently the first of July, and we're in the middle of summer break, which ends September 18th. After that, there's a weeks break in October and the next break we have after that is two weeks for Christmas. Then, I'm on to my second year of college. Wow, time flew.

Christmas. I remember thinking how Christmas would be with Shawn. Maybe we'd stay in all day and cook our own Christmas dinner, cuddling on the couch and watching Christmas movies while exchanging gifts. Maybe we'd visit his family. Maybe we'd visit mine. Maybe we'd have everyone over to our apartment and chill with them. I guess we'd never know now.

It's Sunday today, a relaxing day for me considering I don't experience the dread of Monday's like most people do. I have no work or college on Monday's, thankfully, so Sunday's don't bother me. Tonight, Bree, Amber, Charlie and I are having a girl's night. Movies, face masks, manicures; the lot.

I decide to run a bath and play some music before they arrive later on at six. I sink down in the comforting, bubbly water and sigh. My hair is tied up in a bun, I use one of Shawn's old hair bands to keep my baby hairs from my face. I try my best to relax, but of course my mind circulates around him. I grab my phone to distract myself, but of course I see the fact that he has a basketball match tonight on twitter. I bite the bullet and send him a short and sweet text.

Trinity:
hope everything is good, shawn. miss you. hope u win tonight! x

I blink back the tears in my eyes as I glance at his contact photo. It's a spontaneous picture I took of him in my bed. He lays beneath me as I straddle his naked waist, but all you can see is his laughing face and my hand holding the side of his neck.

I dismiss all thoughts of him and ring up my mom. I haven't talked to her for over a week, and think this'd be the perfect time to catch up.

"Hello my darling!" she beams from the other end of the phone and I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

"Hey, ma," I smile, "how are you? How's Chandler and dad? How's Ollie?"

Mom chuckles, "All is well. Chandler's all loved up with Kelly and Olls is currently playing the box thing. Y'know, with the video games? Whatever ye call that. Dad's good, too. Said he wanted to cook me dinner tonight. How cute is that? Anyways, how're you lovey?"

My heart warms at the undying love my parents hold for one another. It's indescribably inspiring. I always admired the fact that they not once allowed their love to fade, despite having three kids and being together for twenty-something years.

"Eh, I'm fine," I shrug, messing with some bubbles with my free hand.

My mom sighs and I hear a door close in the background of the phone call, "Talk to me, Trinity Lorenzo. How do you truly feel? Told that boy shag off yet?"

I laugh at her and shake my head, "No ma. I dunno. I love him. And it hurts because... well, what if he doesn't love me still? What if he a has a secret NYC bitch?" My mom gasps and chuckles childishly at my language. I grin sadly, "I can't even remember when he and I last spoke over the phone."

"I've always told you to wear your heart on your sleeve until somebody makes you feel exposed," she says, "I understand that you've shown him all your love and worn your heart on your sleeve, baby, but if he doesn't reciprocate the act, then is he really worthy of your pain?"

I ponder for a short while. I appreciate and always respect my mother's advice. I mean, it got her far with her love life, so why shouldn't I take it in? She means the absolute world to me, and I suddenly come to the conclusion that as long as I have her, my family and my girl friends, I'd somehow be alright.