*FYI, this is Chapter 3 of 3 that'll be shared here on BC!*

CHAPTER THREE

I desperately wanted to help out Trinity. I mean, look at her! She’s in seriously deep shit. But just because her arms aren’t working, doesn’t mean her brain isn’t.

“Uh… let’s talk about that later,” I said, not wanting to outright reject her at the moment, but still wishing to convey sympathy. It was a punt, sure. But a necessary one. Right now, the thing she needed most was company and comfort. So that’s exactly what I provided for the next couple hours, as we talked, laughed, and kept things light.

Not wanting to be stuck with an overnight hospital bill, Trinity opted to be taken home in the late evening. She’d had an exhausting day and needed rest more than anything. The results of her MRI would be coming tomorrow, but neither of us were counting on good news. What more could I do than get her safely in bed, help rewrap her wounds, and keep her as comfortable as possible.

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“Mhmm…” Aunt Trinity murmured, listening to the doctor as he delivered the results over the phone. “I guess it’s not too surprising… What about a timeline?”

Trinity and I were seated around the kitchen table, listening to the doctor’s verdict on speaker phone from her cell.

“You’re lucky it’s not worse, honestly,” he said frankly. “Your broken nose should heal up fine without treatment. A few weeks there. The left pinky finger will need to stay in that splint for maybe a month.” The doctor paused, then delivered the major blow. “The hand and shoulder… Those will take a while. No surgery, thankfully. But a couple months, maybe, to get back to normal. And that’s before even starting physical therapy.”

“And all the facial brushing?” Trinity asked, strangely concerned about that element the most.

“Like I said, the nose’ll heal on its own. The swelling and scratches will too. These things just take time, Trinity. Just hold off on headshots or yearbook photos for a while.”

I chuckled, but Trinity sighed. “I understand. Thank you.”

We signed off with the doctor and Trinity, for the first time, slumped in her seat. The ever-positive woman was finally beat down.

“You know, it could be way worse,” I said, parroting the doctor’s words.

“Yeah, it could…” she admitted. “There’s just so much I wanted to accomplish around here this summer. I was thinking about re-doing a bunch of landscaping, I had my swimming goals…”

“Well, I could always drag you behind me in the lap pool,” I kidded. Trinity laughed again, somewhat painfully as she clutched her shoulder.

God, did I ever feel bad for her. I could tell this physically broken woman was fighting to keep her spirit intact. A splint on her finger, a brace on her hand, and that shoulder sling made her look like an injured war vet. Not to mention her face, which hadn’t improved much since yesterday. Her lips, eyebrows, and forehead were all cut, scraped, and covered by bandages. Half of her face was a sickly, purple-yellow from the bruising.

“How about this… The mornings will be for me to study. Then when the afternoon hits, I’ll run your errands, do your yard work, and complete any chores you need.”

Trinity’s face lit up. “Seriously? That’d be lovely!” she exclaimed. “Ah! I honestly can’t thank you enough. I promise, I’ll think of a way to repay you.”

As much as I wanted to ask for money, my heart deep down couldn’t accept payment for this kind of work. She was giving me free room and board, after all. If there’s one thing my parents instilled in me, it’s that you help out your family — no questions asked. And even so, it’s not the worst idea to practice my caretaking and nursing skills.

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For the next several days, my schedule went exactly as planned. I’d wake up and help Trinity with whatever she needed physically — dressing, bandage changing, medications… With such limited mobility of her hands and upper body, even simple tasks were a massive struggle if unassisted. So I realized a helpful daily task would be prepping for her breakfast and lunch in the mornings.

From morning to lunchtime, I’d camp at my now go-to table at the library, studying away and desperately clinging to anything I’d retained from two years of nursing school. Even if I hadn’t learned much in the short time, I’d at least gotten better at quietly shuffling my books, binders, and papers to avoid mean glares.

I’d return to Trinity’s in the early afternoon for a quick lunch, then jump straight into her to-do list. Each day brought its own unique challenge or task, though thankfully I had Trinity right there to teach or explain how to do things. I was a little ashamed how not handy I was. I mean, jeez, I didn’t think I was so sheltered growing up, but my lack of familiarity with gardening tools and lawn care trinkets was exposing all my weak points.

A great example was when the freezer door handle was busted and needed to be re-screwed.

“There’s an allen wrench in the garage—” Trinity began, to which I replied with a blank stare. “Really?” she added. “God, your Dad taught you all the wrong things…”

Funny enough, I felt like I was making more progress as a homeowner/landscaper/errand boy than I was being an actual nurse.

The best part about this rhythm though was, at the end of the day, Trinity and I would spend an hour or so in the kitchen making a delicious dinner for the two of us. With her brain and my hands, we cooked up some pretty tasty vegetarian dishes. Only one week in and I was growing more and more comfortable with her. Hell, I lived with my own mom for my entire life — and of course, I love her to death — but I never really developed an adult relationship with her. Aunt Trinity was different. Closer to me in age, similar-ish stages in life… She felt like the mix of a mother and older sibling mixed into one.

By my second week we’d already set the precedent that Wednesdays would be movie nights. A week ago, she was in much worse shape and barely cared what I threw on. This week, she put her foot down as tonight’s decider. I guess I’d call it progress.

“You ever seen ‘She’s All That’? Because if you haven’t, it's essential.”

I shook my head. “No, but even the title sounds like a shitty rom-com.”

“It’s absolutely a shitty rom-com. And that’s why you need to see it,” Trinity insisted, motioning for me to pick up the remote and queue it up. She didn’t have cable, but I found it after digging through a couple streaming services.

I’d never heard of this movie before, but it didn’t take long to realize it was basically that old musical, ‘My Fair Lady’. Essentially, Freddie Prinze Jr. bets his friend that he can transform the nerdy Rachel Leigh Cook into the next prom queen. And shocker, he starts to fall for her.

The movie was charming and goofy enough to warrant a watch, and if anything, I enjoyed Trinity quoting certain lines and reminiscing about the first time she watched it. Trinity is definitely a movie talker, too — something I normally wouldn’t have the patience for. But hey, tonight’s her night.

As the movie hits its third act, there’s a scene where Rachel Leigh Cook waltzes downstairs, beautifully transformed into a prom queen. It’s a sweet moment, they play that ‘Kiss Me’ song in the background… It's great. I looked over across the living room at Trinity, wondering if she was a movie crier in addition to a talker, but she wasn’t crying. In fact, through the bruised coloring on her face, I noticed an idea formulating.

“Can you pause the movie?” she asked. I did as told and she looked over at me.

“You never told me if you’d help me out with the beauty products,” she said bluntly. Notably, it wasn’t a question. She worded it almost as an accusation — though not that aggressive.

I admit, her question didn’t completely catch me off guard. After all, this movie’s all about transformation and letting beauty products turn you into something you’re not.

“No, I haven’t,” I answered honestly. “I kinda thought you just didn’t care.”

Trinity softened her tone. “I don’t want to seem unappreciative, but… I dunno, this movie’s making me feel like I’m missing out. I have such good momentum with the influencer thing, and I got a backlog of all these products I wanna review. But… look at me.”

Her face looked better than it did a week ago, but a shoulder sling, a brace, a splint, and bruises galore don’t exactly lend themselves to the beauty influencer look.

“So what’re you suggesting? You wanna doll me up like a prom queen and have me waltz down the stairs?” I asked, completely joking, but quickly afraid I planted a seed in her head.

“No, no… just, like I said, lend a hand in that department. I need content for my pages. I’ll do all the posting and captioning. I just… I need a temporary model.”

I thought about her request for a moment. She must’ve caught me in the exact right mood, because her words didn’t sound so absurd this time around. “Alright… What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I got this super cute nail polish that I’ve been meaning to show off. Obviously, nobody wants to look at a splint or a brace so–”

“Sure,” I answered confidently. “Nail polish I can do.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Wow, I honestly thought you—”

I didn’t have much patience for dissecting my acceptance of wearing nail polish. “I guess you just caught me in a good mood.”

If it weren’t for her injuries, she would’ve jumped for joy and applauded. But Trinity looked as happy as can be. “Ooh! Can I paint your nails during the movie? There’s just enough time left that it’ll work out. I can use my left hand, too!”

“Uh…” I muttered, not expecting this to start so quickly. “I guess…”

Trinity had me fetch the bottle of nail polish that was boxed up in the closet near the front door with the rest of her unopened, gifted products. I grabbed the small black box she told me about, perched right on top of the looming mountain of unboxed girly products. I shut the door and returned to the dimly lit, quiet living room.

“Sit here, let me show you,” Trinity said calmly, as I took my seat next to her on the couch. I gulped, more than a little nervous as I removed the bottle from its packaging. It was a bright, baby blue color. I hadn’t been this nervous around my aunt since the lipstick moment on my first day here. The vision of myself in the mirror, looking almost entirely like a girl from only lipstick. Would nail polish create the same stomach-churning feeling of a feminine Anderson?

But just as I screwed the top off the bottle to begin, Trinity shifted away. “Phew!” she said, scrunching her face. “You, uh… Did you shower after yard work today?”

“I… Uh… I guess I didn’t,” I said mindlessly, still focused on the impending nail polish. “Sorry, we went right into cooking—”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she assured me, giggling. “But can you blame me if I wanna avoid smelling your stink for the next half-hour?”

I turned bright red with embarrassment. Here I was about to get my nails done by my Aunt, and now she was telling me I stink. But I took the awkwardness as an escape route. “Fine, I’ll go shower. So nails tomorrow?”

Trinity shook her head. “No, still nails tonight. We have a movie to finish!”

I shrugged, accepting her request. But I took only one step upstairs before she called my name again.

“Anderson? I actually have a better idea. Can you use my shower?” she asked politely.

I stared at her, confused. “…why?”

“I want to paint all of your nails and take pictures for the page. Toenails too. So that means I’ll need freshly shaved legs for the pictures.”

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