Trina, oh Trina
I’ve been writing about Trina and I’m happy to announce that she’s turning into more than just a Harris puppet/tool/weapon. On the surface, she’s out for her own self-interest but the things she did in her youth still hang over her and no one will let her forget it, particularly those Harris boys. It is awful to have the actions a 16 year old self thrown back as reminders of wrongdoing dozens of years later. Through that lense, it’s easy to see how someone would simply stop confiding/sharing with people and believe they can never move on or change or find forgiveness for what they’ve done.
I wrote this poem when I was fleshing out the character, shortly after An End to Summer. A peek into Trina’s frame of mind. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance? (Names of boys changed to protect the..erm…’innocent’.)
I’m Trina <3
I’m the girl in the flame-red lipstick.
Fire flicking from my fingertips and
sparks dancing off my stilettos.
I’m the girl in Andy’s car,
in Andy’s arms,
in Andy’s lap.
I’m adrenaline and
I’m the girl with the rainbow hair.
Stars spilling from my mouth and
moonbeams gleaming off my skin.
I’m the girl in Billy’s car,
in Billy’s arms,
in Billy’s lap.
I’m firecrackers and
dynamite and gunpowder and all
the risky choices mother warned you about.
I’m the girl on the fast path to the top.
The American dreams,
stuffed in an apple pie cooked by
the comet’s red glare.
I’m the girl in Cory’s car,
in Cory’s arms,
in Cory’s lap.
I’m booze and
the heartache hangover worth wrecking your life.