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“BWOOOOOOOOM-”
“-and again, for those of you who ignored the first one, BWOOOOOOOOM-”
A low, theatrical blast of the ship’s horn reverberated through every narrow corridor, cabin, and questionable life choice.
“Good morning, ladies and gentledykes, and a very warm welcome aboard our classic sapphic, graphic, but not too graphic… or maybe too graphic, you do you, Summer at Sea!” the announcer chuckled, a throaty laugh spilling through the tannoys.
“Outside, we are blessed with near-perfect cruising conditions: clear skies, calm seas, and just enough breeze. Temperatures promise to reach a very hot eighty-point-six degrees, but that’s not the hottest thing on board today-”
A burst of hoots and hollers crackled through the speakers, as well as the crowds around them.
“I know that’s right. Anyway-”
The woman’s voice faded into the background as Trinity tuned out, turning instead to one of her favourite pastimes, top five, at least, irritating Victoria Hitika Javadi.
“Crash,” she whined, as the heavy gym bag, overstuffed with too much sunscreen, a few too many tank tops, and one (1) singular swimsuit, slipped off her sweaty shoulder. She hurried after her, “Crash, come on, wait up. Is this because I told the TSA agent you were travelling as an unaccompanied minor?”
Victoria kept walking, dogged, her purple suitcase trailing obediently behind her.
“Trinity,” she began, not even glancing back, “I’m going to be generous and ignore the fact that you made us late because of that. Also, I don’t even know why they believed it. My birthday was, like, two weeks ago.”
Trinity bit down a laugh. Between the straw sunhat, yellow flowers embroidered neatly along the brim, the matching sundress, and the oversized sunglasses shielding eyes Trinity knew had widened in irritation, it was… difficult to take Victoria seriously.
“Yeah, so crazy they believed it,” she said, voice dripping with mock sincerity.
“Oh, shush,” Victoria muttered. “You should be nice to me today. Why didn’t you make Dennis come with you instead?”
“Um, because this is a lesbian cruise,” Trinity said, spelling it out slowly. “Lesbian. Meaning no Huckleberry, no men, nada, zilch. Just women. Hundreds of hot, sexy, single women,” she grinned as she lowered her voice, “it’s like a buffet. Total heaven on earth.”
“Gross. You’re literally drooling.”
“Aww, Crash,” Trinity teased, nudging closer, “no need to get jealous. I’m not a one-woman type of girl, but if I was, I promise, you’d be the one for me.”
“Ew,” Victoria shot back, though her cheeks warmed slightly, and not just from the relentless sun.
“Rude. But if a certain inappropriately older third-year resident said it…” Trinity trailed off, milking the pause.
Victoria didn’t even dignify that with words, just angled her suitcase and shoved the hard plastic corner straight into Trinity’s hip.
“Ow,” Trinity squeaked, far more dramatically than necessary, which Victoria ignored once more.
They moved with the slow, congested current of boarding passengers, funnelled through narrow hallways that all looked exactly the same, beige carpet, polished railings, doors spaced at identical, mildly threatening intervals.
“Hey, why do some of the rooms have those pineapple stickers on them? I told you we should have brought door decorations with us,” Victoria muttered as they walked past the rooms on the lower deck, the ones with normal sized showers and wide balconies, a little too expensive for a measly R2 salary even with Victoria’s allowance thrown in and the discount they received from signing up to work at the ship’s clinic.
Trinity stifled her laugh, “trust me Crash, you do not want to stick a pineapple on your door.” Somewhere overhead, the tail end of the morning announcement crackled on, now listing spa discounts and something about a “sapphic speed-friending mixer.”Trinity perked up immediately, “oh, we are so going to that.”
“We are not,” Victoria said.
“We are,” Trinity insisted, “it’s part of your gay-ducation, it’s networking.”
“You don’t need networking on a lesbian cruise.”
“That is objectively the best place to network, haven’t you seen the lesbian, heterosexual pay gap? Who knows we might end up meeting Holland and Sarah.”
Victoria stopped abruptly, forcing Trinity to nearly walk straight into her again, she turned, slowly, lowering her sunglasses just enough to peer over the top, “Trinity.”
“Yes, my sweet Crash?”
“If you embarrass me within the first two hours of being on this ship, I will leave you here.”
Trinity grinned, “you say that like it’s a threat. This is literally my ideal environment, it’ll be like threatening to leave Huck on a farm or um Samira in the library.”
Victoria stared at her for a long, measuring second, then huffed and turned back around, continuing down the corridor. “Cabin 8234,” she muttered, checking the booking email on her phone, “left here” They turned, only to immediately meet a dead end.
Trinity snorted, “strong start.”
“Shut up.”
After a brief, deeply unnecessary detour that included walking past the same elderly couple three times, on the last time, Trinity was certain she saw one of them wink at her, and one increasingly judgemental crew member, they finally found it. Victoria stopped outside the door, exhaling like she’d just completed something far more strenuous than basic navigation.
She tapped the keycard against the lock and with a soft click, the door swung open.
Trinity leaned in over her shoulder to take in the room, “well?” she asked as Victoria stepped inside. The room was… small. Not offensively so, but enough that two people with luggage and personalities like theirs might struggle to coexist peacefully. Twin beds, a narrow walkway, a small sofa by the window, and thankfully a small table next to a large round window, currently blazing with sunlight.
Trinity breezed past her, immediately claiming space like a cat. “Oh, this is cute,” she declared, dumping her gym bag directly onto one of the beds. “Very… minimalist. Intimate. Opportunities for growth and all that jazz.”
Victoria shut the door behind them with more force than necessary, “don’t say all that jazz Santos, it’s fine.”
“It’s more than fine Javadi,” Trinity mocked, already halfway through the room. She pushed out the thick glass of the window, allowing the heat inside where it quickly conquered the already fatigued air conditioner. “Oh my god! Crash, look,” wonder was palpable in her voice as she took in the view.
Victoria didn’t move at first. She set her suitcase upright, adjusted the handle, then, despite herself, walked over, sticking her head in next to Trinity’s. Matching ponytails swinging in the wind. The sea stretched endlessly, a sheet of bright, blinding blue that the ship cut cleanly through as it moved, leaving foamy white bubbles behind. The air was warm and heady with the taste of salt and something else. Peace, perhaps. It was certainly a welcome change from the stark white walls, sometimes streaked with blood, piss and things Trinity didn’t like to think too deeply about, of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre.
“…Okay,” Victoria admitted quietly, “that’s nice.”
Trinity nodded, turning her face toward the sun like she wanted to drink it all in,“you’re welcome,” she said.
“For what?”
“For bringing you, I know this is your first vacation without mommy and daddy.”
Victoria snorted, “you should have seen Shamsi’s face, you’d have thought I was telling her I was moving to the arctic.”
“As long as you don’t tell her it was me, I still need that glowing reference for when I double board.”
“If,” Victoria corrected, half jokingly, half seriously, “but I still don’t get why she got so mad, like spending a week working with a cruise ship doctor can only be beneficial for my career, but then again I don’t suppose they do many emergency laparotomies on this ship.”
“Never say never,” Trinity responded, “I’m just glad Robby approved my leave before he left on his bro trip, the worst part about graduation is losing out on the vacations. I think I definitely need a break before the new attending gets here. Shamsi tell you anything about her?”
“No, not really. Mom doesn’t really see emergency medicine doctors as like separate people I think, you’re all kind of like different iterations of the same cowboys to her, she might not even realise that Robby’s gone.”
“Wow, that’s depressing, always the hot ones, something in the coffee pot in the surgery breakroom I think” Trinity shook her head mock sadly, but it soon became genuine as her thoughts travelled to a hot surgeon who also didn’t see her as a real person, “but we won’t let your mom ruin our fun,” she clapped her hands to shake away the thoughts, “we have to meet the doctor in like an hour ish and then we have the night to ourselves.”
Victoria nodded as she set about unpacking. Individually wrapped packing cubes came out of her suitcase and straight into the neater of the two wardrobes without discussion, whilst Trinity on the other hand, had a bit more difficulty. Her side of the room looked like a minor disaster zone with clothes half-folded, half-abandoned and lidless tubes of sunscreen rolling ominously near the edge of the desk.
Victoria paused mid-unpacking, staring, “do you want help?” she asked, the words sounding physically painful.
“Nope,” Trinity said cheerfully, “this is a system.”
“This is not a system.”
“It is. It’s called visual accessibility.”
“It’s called a fire hazard,” Victoria closed her eyes briefly as she watched her, as if recalibrating her expectations of reality, “I’m not engaging with this.”
Whatever Trinity had been about to fire back in response was interrupted by a knock on the door. Both of them paused.
Victoria frowned, “we just got here,” she shook her head, “do you think it’s the doctor? What’s her name again? Dr Al-Hashimi?”
Trinity lit up, “oh my god, no Crash,” she hurried to the door and peered out the peephole, “what if it’s already happening?”
“What is ‘it’?”
“Opportunities for networking,” she punctuated her sentence with a lewd smirk.
Before Victoria could stop her, Trinity crossed the room and yanked the door open.
A woman stood on the other side, late thirties, maybe, composed in a way that felt effortless rather than forced. Her curly dark hair was pulled back neatly, golden strands, no doubt gifted by the sunlight, cut through the darkness. She had sharp brown eyes that flicked between the two of them in a single, assessing sweep, and the kind of posture that screamed doctor even without the badge clipped to her shirt.
“Dr Santos? Student doctor Javadi?” she asked, her voice was smooth and clipped, and Trinity couldn’t help but notice that the woman had taken the care to pronounce their names correctly. She straightened immediately.
“Depends who’s asking,” she said, flashing that grin that normally got her a free shot at the local bar back home in Pittsburgh.
Victoria closed her eyes briefly, her eyebrows furrowing like a mother who’d just be called in to speak about a particularly stubborn child.
The woman’s lips twitched, just slightly, which Trinity took as a good sign, “Dr Al-Hashimi,” she stuck her hand out, to Victoria first and then Trinity, another good sign, “I’ll be supervising you both this week.”
“Oh,” Trinity said, far too quickly, “Hi. Hello. Yes. That’s us. We’re, us.”
Victoria stepped in before things could deteriorate further, “hi, it’s lovely to meet you, Dr Al-Hashimi. Thank you for having us.”
“A pleasure,” Dr Al-Hashimi replied smoothly, her gaze lingering on Trinity for just a fraction longer than necessary, curious, not unkind. “ You can call me Baran, I thought I’d give you a quick tour of the medical unit before things get busy.”
Trinity nodded like this was the most reasonable thing in the world, as if she hadn’t just forgotten how sentences worked.“Great. Perfect. Love a tour.”
Victoria grabbed her room key off the table and gently shoved it into Trinity’s hand, “shoes,” she muttered, spotting her friends bare painted toes, a glow in the dark green, all three of them had done, Dennis, Trinity and her, the night of Victoria’s birthday, drunk off their heads.
“Right. Shoes. Important,” Trinity said dumbly.
Two minutes later, they were back out in the corridor, falling into step beside Dr Al-Hashimi as she led the way with practised ease.“The medical centre’s on Deck 3,” she explained, “we’re fairly well-equipped for most things, but obviously we’re limited compared to a hospital setting. Stabilise, manage, and escalate if needed, that’s the general rule.”
Trinity hummed, “so, like any emergency department but with pricey wi-fi.”
Victoria shot her a look.
Dr Al-Hashimi, to her credit, didn’t miss a beat, “ and a much better view, I think,” she laughed.
“That’s true,” Trinity conceded, “I’ll take ocean over the windowless trauma bay any day.”
Victoria glanced between them, something suspiciously like amusement flickering across her face before she schooled it away.
They descended a narrow stairwell, the hum of the ship louder here with the music of whirring engines.“Shifts are fairly flexible,” Dr Al-Hashimi continued, “we rotate on-call overnight. Hopefully you’ll have time to actually enjoy the ship as well.”
Trinity perked up immediately, “oh, I plan to.”
“I gathered,” Victoria muttered.
Dr Al-Hashimi glanced back at them briefly, “there’s a karaoke night this evening, it’s always a fun time.”
Trinity gasped, delighted, “see? I knew I liked you.”
Victoria groaned, “please don’t say that to your supervisor.”
“I’m not saying it like that,” Trinity said, offended, “I’m just saying she has good taste in events.”
Dr Al-Hashimi’s mouth curved, unmistakably this time, “I’ll take that as a compliment Dr Santos.”
“You should,” Trinity said easily, “and you can call me Trinity, and Javadi here prefers Crash,” she gestured to Victoria who made a small, strangled sound.
“Um Victoria is perfectly fine, Dr Al-Hash- um Baran,” Victoria corrected hurriedly, shooting a glare at a smirking Trinity.
They reached Deck three, the atmosphere shifted subtly, it was quieter maybe, more contained. Dr Al-Hashimi swiped her card against a set of double doors, pushing them open, “welcome to the medical centre.”
It was compact, but efficient. Trinity took it all in: two beds separated by white linen curtains, a small nurses’ station, cupboards stocked with supplies, a locked medication cabinet with a monitor already humming softly in the corner. t was clean and clinical, but softer than the hospital somehow, or perhaps it was the lack of people. No crowding, no noise. No conversations cutting off mid-sentence. No looks that lingered just a second too long, like she was something to be watched rather than worked with.
Victoria’s posture shifted immediately, more alert and focused, “this is really well set up.”
“We manage,” Dr Al-Hashimi said, “Common presentations are predictable; we get mostly seasickness, dehydration, and minor injuries. The occasional more serious case, but nothing we can’t stabilise.” She gestured down a short corridor, “we also have a small isolation room, just in case.”
“Reassuring,” Trinity murmured.
Dr Al-Hashimi turned back to them, “any questions?”
Victoria shook her head, “no, this all makes sense.”
Trinity tilted her head, studying her with open interest, “yeah, just one.”
Victoria braced.
“How long have you been working on ships?”
“A couple of years now, three years with Sapphic Summers after my divorce,” Dr Al-Hashimi replied, “it’s very rewarding work, is it something you would be more interested in long term, Trinity?”
“Yeah,” Trinity nodded, though she was filing away everything Dr Al-Hashimi said for reasons entirely unrelated to professional curiosity, it seemed like slightly inappropriate workplace relationships was just something she was unable to resist, “and you haven’t gotten bored yet?” she continued.
“No, I never get bored,” Dr Al-Hashimi chuckled, “I do miss my son though. It’s actually why I’ve decided to take a new job, this week is my last in fact.”
Trinity blinked, “Oh. You’re leaving? We’re very lucky we caught you then, just in the nick of time”
Victoria stepped on her foot.
Hard.
Trinity didn’t even flinch.
“Yes, I took a new position, a mainland one this time,” she laughed, “but I’ll be sure to make your time on the ship the best I can.”
“That’s wonderful,” Victoria cut in, all polite efficiency, before Trinity could continue flirting, “thank you so much for showing us around. We really appreciate it.”
Dr Al-Hashimi inclined her head, “you’re both on call from tomorrow morning. For today, settle in and enjoy the ship.”
“Oh, we will,” Trinity said as Victoria physically dragged her back a step, “responsibly,” she added quickly.
Dr Al-Hashimi’s gaze flicked between them once more,an attractive mix of assessing and amused, before she gave a small nod, “I’ll see you both later.” She turned and walked off down the corridor, calm, composed, entirely unbothered.
Once they couldn’t see the grey of her fitted sports jacket, Trinity sighed, “wow.”
“Don’t,” Victoria warned.
“I’m just saying-”
“Don’t,” Victoria repeated
“She’s insanely attractive.”
“She is your supervisor,” Victoria countered even though she knew it would fall on deaf ears.
“And?”
“And you are incapable of behaving normally for even five minutes.”
Trinity considered that, “In my defence-”
“You don’t have one,” Victoria interrupted.
But Trinity carried on unperturbed, “-I do need to move on and you know what they say, the fastest way to get over someone is by getting under someone else. And I think I’ve found that someone else.”
“That’s not-” Victoria stopped herself, exhaling, “that’s not how that works.”
“What do you know Crash? Your flirtationship with Matteo and Dr Mckay does not experience give,” Trinity retorted, a little unkindly, “besides, that’s how it works for me, out of sight, out of mind.”
Victoria looked at her for a long moment,“right,” she said finally, “sure.”
Trinity clapped her hands once, bright again, easy. “Anyway, we have a ship to explore, a buffet to locate, and I’m talking about food this time, and a karaoke sign-up sheet with my name on it.”
Victoria sighed, fondly, “you are going to be a problem this week.”
“Correction,” Trinity said, already heading for the door, “I am going to be the problem this week.”
Victoria followed after her, pinching the bridge of her nose, “heavens, we’re doomed.”
Trinity didn’t bother waiting for Victoria to properly catch up once they were out of the medical centre.
“Okay,” she announced, already walking backwards down the corridor, arms spread wide like she was unveiling something monumental, “first order of business: we find alcohol.”
Victoria followed at a more reasonable pace, one hand still loosely wrapped around her room key, the other pushing her sunglasses higher up her nose,“it’s barely noon.”
“And?” Trinity shot back immediately, “time is a social construct, Crash. We’re on a boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean-”
“Pretty sure it’s the Atlantic,” Victoria muttered.
“Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to, the rules don’t apply,” she shrugged, “come, have a drink with me, or don’t, just,” she paused, “let’s just have fun, take enough photos to make Huckleberry jealous, make the sort of mistakes people our age make all the time and let me forget the absolute shitfest of the year I’ve had Victoria.”
At that, Victoria could no longer protest, “Okay,” she nodded, “I’ll buy you your first drink,” she led them over to a small crowd of women in a variety of colourful elastic fabric, miles of bare flesh on show. It was exactly what Trinity had hoped for, loud, sun-drenched, and just chaotic enough to feel like something could happen at any moment. Music pulsed somewhere overhead, glasses clinked and laughter spilled freely between strangers who already looked like they’d decided to become temporary best friends.
“Two of your strongest cocktails please," Trinity said the second they reached the counter, leaning in like she belonged there.
Victoria leaned closer, lowering her voice, “maybe not strongest,” she countered with a small yelp.
“Strongest,” Trinity repeated, smiling at the bartender like they were co-conspirators.
The bartender, a woman with paler skin than even Trinity herself, a smattering of freckles dusting her shoulders, orange brown, the same colour as her chin length bob of hair, grinned, “I like you,” she said, “need to see some I.D though, especially from your friend.”
Trinity laughed, as Victoria blushed, showing her learning permit to the woman. Their drinks arrived quickly after that. Bright, aggressively pink, monstrosities, topped with fruit that looked decorative rather than functional.
Trinity lifted hers, “to poor decisions,” she cheered
Victoria hesitated just long enough for Trinity to notice, then clinked her glass anyway, “to surviving you for a week,” she added with a toothy grin, before taking a sip. Victoria blinked. “Oh. That’s-” her sentence broke down as she dissolved into sputters.
“Perfect,” Trinity supplied, delighted as she took another long sip from the curly straw, “absolutely perfect.”
It didn’t take long for Trinity to start talking to people after that. She slipped into conversations like she’d been invited, pulling Victoria along with her through sheer force of personality. A joke here, a grin there, a well-placed compliment, and suddenly they were part of a loose, shifting group near the edge of the bar.
Names were exchanged and immediately forgotten. Someone complimented Trinity’s plain white tee shirt, a desperate move, even for her. Someone else asked Victoria what she studied.
“Medicine,” Victoria said, adjusting her sunglasses, posture straightening just slightly.
“Ooh,” one of them said, impressed, “future doctor.”
“Current menace,” Trinity cut in, “I’m the current doctor.”
Victoria elbowed her.
“Hey,” Trinity said, offended. “I’m hyping you up.”
“Please don’t.”
The women laughed at that, small giggles that filled Trinity up with confidence. She took another sip of her drink, gaze drifting lazily over the crowd, before she stopped as she spotted a woman.Then she leaned in, the flowery scent of Victoria’s body spray tickling her nostrils as her voice dropped conspiratorially,“okay, look alive .”
Victoria didn’t look at her, “no.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I do. And the answer is still no.”
Trinity grinned, “so you do like her,” her gaze was fixed on a woman a couple of feet away from them, with auburn hair in a loose messy braid and a bushy fringe “I’m going to wingwoman you, get you in bed with that Cassie Mckay dupe.”
Victoria turned slowly, “absolutely not.”
“Oh, should I find one that looks like Matteo instead?”
“Just drink you drink Trinity,” Victoria admonished her, “I don’t need-” but suddenly her words were cut off.
Her gaze shifted, just slightly, over Trinity’s shoulder and something in her expression changed. It tightened and sharpened, as though she had just seen a ghost before smoothing out again, almost immediately.
“Crash?” Trinity nudged her, “you good?”
Victoria blinked, “what? Yeah. Fine,” the words came out in a rush.
Trinity narrowed her eyes, “you just did a weird face but the weirder bit was how you just pretended like you didn’t, you do weird faces all the time and you never bother to cover them up.”
“I did not do a weird face and I don’t do weird faces all the time.”
“You absolutely did do a weird face,” Trinity argued.
Victoria took a longer sip of her drink, electing to change the topic instead, “I’m agreeing to your stupid plan,” she said.
“…What?”
“I said,” Victoria repeated, a little too quickly, “I’m agreeing. You can, wingman. Or whatever.”
Now Trinity was suspicious. She tilted her head, studying her properly, “okay, first it’s wingwoman you misogynist and secondly, why do I feel like I’m being manipulated?”
“You’re not being manipulated,” Victoria tried to counter, but Trinity was like a dog with a bone.
“There’s always manipulation,” she pronounced, “always.”
“We’ll come back to that later,” Victoria murmured, “and there isn’t, I’m being honest, and here I thought you’d be jumping at the chance to set me up. Maybe I should ask Samira to be my lesbian guru instead. Wait lesbian guru, is that some kind of cultural appropriation?.”
“Don’t change the subject Victoria, you won’t tempt me with your threats,” Trinity folded her arms over her chest, “you looked like you just saw a ghost just then or worse, Shamsi.”
“I didn’t see a ghost, the um drink got to me that’s all,” she looked away guiltily, “and can we add a rule not to bring up my mother?”
“…Hmm.”
Victoria forced a smile, “so are you going to do it or not? I think she’s hot,” she gestured towards a random woman, this one the type that they usually saw in the flu vaccine clinics Trinity sometimes volunteered for.
Trinity held her gaze for a second longer. Something was definitely off with Victoria, she couldn’t quite pin it down, but it was there. Normally, she’d push. Pick at it. Turn it into a joke until it cracked, but something in Victoria’s gaze told her not to do so, so instead, she shrugged simply. “Alright,” she said, brightness snapping back into place, “game on.”
From that point on, Trinity committed. If she was being handed permission to meddle, she was going to meddle so she introduced Victoria to at least three different people in quick succession, each time escalating the praise.
“She’s basically running the hospital already.”
“I’m not-”
“She saved, like, five lives this week.”
“That is not accurate-”
“She’s also emotionally available, which is rare in this economy,” that one was a little bitter.
Victoria choked, “Trinity.”
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
“I’m helping.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m absolutely helping.”
But the strange part was, despite all her protests and even when Trinity pushed a little too far, Victoria didn’t shut it down. She went along with it all. She smiled when it was expected, and asked halfway thoughtful questions. She even laughed, but it always came a fraction too late, like she was catching up to the moment rather than living in it. And stranger still was that every now and then, she looked past Trinity. It was quick and controlled, like she didn’t want to be seen doing it. Trinity noticed of course, subtlety was not a skill Victoria for all her genius possessed, but every time she tried to follow that line of sight, Victoria would shift, and redirect, saying something that pulled her attention back.
Eventually, one drink turned into half a dozen, the perils of all-inclusives, and the edges of everything softened just enough to feel good.
“Okay,” Trinity declared suddenly, grabbing Victoria’s wrist with urgency,“we need a change of scenery.”
Victoria blinked, “we just got here,” she said as she pulled her arm away.
“Exactly. We’ve conquered it. Now, time to move on.”
“That’s not how- we don’t even have our bathing suits on”
“Pool,” Trinity said firmly.
And then she was pulling her along again, towards the upper deck where the air felt warmer and even brighter. Laughter bounced off the pool’s metal railings, the rhythmic thump of music bled through hidden speakers and the unmistakable splash of water meeting skin underlined everything. The pool itself was a sharp turquoise, the afternoon sun soaked into it before travelling up to deck chairs lined up in neat, already-abandoned rows, towels in every possible shade draped carelessly over them like flags of occupation. Trinity spotted more than a few rainbow coloured ones, how stereotypical.
The pool stretched wider than Trinity expected, not Olympic or anything impressive like that, but big enough to feel like its own little world. The turquoise shimmered and painted everything in soft, shifting light as people clustered along the edges, drinks balanced precariously on the tiled lip, legs trailing lazily in the water.
To one side, a set of curved steps dipped gradually into the pool, occupied by a group who looked like they’d claimed it as their territory for the foreseeable future. On the other, a pair of narrow water slides twisted down from an upper platform, slick and fast, depositing shrieking passengers into a deeper section where someone immediately got splashed in retaliation.Everything smelled faintly of chlorine and sunscreen and salt, the ocean just visible past the glass barrier, endless and glittering.
“Trinity,” Victoria said as they reached the edge, “we just drank-”
“We’ll float,” Trinity said dismissively, “it cancels out and we won’t go in the deep end.”
“That’s not how that works,” she started to say but Trinity, arm still linked with hers, was already jumping in, and so their bodies hit the water with a loud splash, clothes included.Victoria resurfaced a second later, sputtering, hair already escaping her ponytail.
Trinity was laughing immediately, “Oh my god, your face!”
“You!” Victoria wiped water from her eyes, glaring, “you are unbelievable.”
“You love me.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Same thing.”
Victoria stared at her, then, very deliberately, she splashed her straight in the face.
Trinity gasped, “oh, it’s like that?”
“It’s exactly like that.”
“Okay. Okay,” she shrugged as she lunged, pushing a big wave towards Victoria.
Splashing soon turned into chasing, chasing turned into near-collisions with strangers, apologies shouted over laughter, and at one point Trinity was fairly certain she almost drowned purely from laughing too hard.
Eventually, they drifted back to the edge, breathless and the noise surrounding everything, for the first time, softened. Trinity pulled herself onto the pool ledge as she glanced over at Victoria, who was standing a few inches away, squeezing water out of her dress. “You’ve seriously never been on vacation before?” she asked.
Victoria shook her head, pushing wet hair back, “not really, unless you count going with my dad on one of his Doctors Without Borders trips.”
Trinity turned her head properly, “that definitely does not count.”
“I figured.”
“What was that like? I’m sure even geniuses need a break so must have been tough.”
Victoria shrugged, but there was something under it now, “It was um busy. A lot of moving. A lot of… things you don’t forget.”
Trinity didn’t joke this time, “yeah,” she said quietly.
Victoria glanced at her, “what about you?”
Trinity let out a short laugh, “oh, I’ve been on vacations, didn’t really come into my brains until high school and that is normal high school age not four years old or however old you were when you graduated..”
Victoria rolled her eyes, but did not rise to the bait, “yeah?” she said, offering Trinity the space to elaborate.
“My mom treated them like military operations.”
Victoria snorted.
“No, seriously. Wake-up times. Schedules. Activities planned down to the hour. ‘We have to make the most of it, Trinity,’”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It was,” she skimmed her fingers through the water, “and half the time it wasn’t even a real vacation. It was gymnastics meets. So I’d just be stressed the whole time anyway.”
Victoria was quiet for a moment, “that’s kind of sad, Trin.”
Trinity shrugged, like it didn’t matter, “it builds character and I think yours is objectively much sadder than mine, at least I’d get a popsicle if I won gold, you probably got a syringe or something.”
Victoria didn’t look convinced and Trinity felt it creeping in, something heavier, something that wanted to settle, and break through the calm seas of their time. She reached into the pool once more and flicked water straight into Victoria’s face.
Victoria yelped, “Trinity!”
But she simply hauled herself off the edge, grabbed a towel and tossed one at Victoria with a chuckle. “Come on,” she said, already moving. “We have exactly,” she squinted dramatically at her wrist, “a few hours to become karaoke legends.”
Victoria groaned, dragging herself out after her,“I am not singing.”
Trinity slung an arm around her shoulders, steering her toward the exit, “we’ll see, Crash,” she said, grinning bright and sharp, “we’ll see.”
By the time they made it to karaoke night, Trinity had already decided two things. One: she was absolutely singing and two: Victoria was not getting out of it.
The bar had transformed, where it had been loose and sunlit earlier, now it was dimmer and warmer, more intimate in a way with lights strung lazily across the ceiling casting everything in gold and pink. A small stage had been set up at one end, complete with a microphone stand that had definitely seen better days and a screen behind it cycling through song lyrics in aggressive pink and orange neon fonts.
The place was packed. People crowded around tables, perched on bar stools and leaned against railings with drinks in hand, voices already hoarse from cheering. The energy was thick, buzzing, the kind that made everything feel a little bigger, a little louder.
“Oh my god,” Trinity breathed, eyes lighting up, “this is my Super Bowl, should we try and find Dr Al-Hashimi?”
Victoria groaned, “please don’t say that, and how about no? let’s not do that.”
“Too late,” Trinity said, already scanning the sign-up sheet like a predator, Dr Al- Hashimi waved at them eagerly from the microphone stand, evidently having just finished her own song. “Hi Baran, sorry to have missed your performance,” Trinity said as they walked over to the woman in question.
“No worries Trinity, Victoria,” she nodded at each of them, “I’m certain there would be many opportunities to see me embarrass myself over the coming week,” she giggled a little at that. She’d shucked off her scrubs and sports jacket in favour of a breezy linen blouse and matching trousers, it suited her, the beige colour allowing the warmth of her tan skin to stand out.
“I don’t think you could ever embarrass yourself,” Trinity smiled, “what song did you do? Vic and I are looking for ideas for our duet.”
“Um no we’re not, we’re not doing a duet,” Victoria protested weakly.
“Forgive her Baran, she gets shy,” Trinity ruffled Victoria’s hair, smooshing her rather elaborate carefully braided ponytail she had just recorded a TikTok tutorial for.
Thankfully, Dr Al-Hashimi simply laughed at their antics, “it’s from a musical I’m afraid, I’m not the most up to date with what music’s cool nowadays, but musicals have always had my heart.”
“Oh wow, me too,” Trinity agreed, sincerely this time, “I love Wicked most of all, and les Mis, makes me wish this career allowed us more days off so I could go see some more shows.”
“Funny that,” Dr Al-Hashimi nodded, “the song I just sang was from Wicked, if you ever need a theatre buddy, I come with free snacks,” she joked.
Trinity beamed, “I think I’ll have to take you up on it, we should um probably go sign up now, before all the spots get filled up,” waving as the older woman walked away.
Once she was gone, Trinity turned, and grabbed both of Victoria’s shoulders, and smiled in a way that meant she had already won. “Crash,” she said sweetly, “this is part of your gay-ducation.”
“I hate that you keep saying that,” Victoria argued.
“And I hate that you’re resisting personal growth,” Trinity argued back, “many lesbians and bisexuals would jump at the opportunity I’m offering you, I swear both you and Huckleberry do not appreciate me enough.”
Victoria opened her mouth like she was about to say something else, and then stopped. Again. It was smaller this time, quieter, but Trinity still saw it. The flicker as her eyes darted deeper into the crowd. Something almost like guilt began to shine at the corners of Victoria’s big brown eyes.
Trinity frowned, turning her head to search behind her, “okay, what is-”
“I’ll do it,” Victoria interjected,“the duet. I’ll do it.”
Now Trinity was fully thrown,“who are you,” she said slowly, “and what have you done with Victoria Hitika Javadi?”
Victoria huffed, already reaching for the clipboard, “searching up my middle name on the employee database is all kinds of illegal Trinity, just pick a song before I change my mind.”
It was suspicious, deeply suspicious, but Trinity wasn’t about to question a miracle. Bring on all the loaves and fishes, “done,” she said immediately, writing their names down in capital letters.
They didn’t have to wait too long. A few performances went by, some genuinely impressive, most not and then ,“alright,” the host called, voice bright and teasing, “next up we have, oh, this is a duet, two for the price of one ladies, Trinity and Victoria!”
A ripple of cheers rang out as Trinity turned to Victoria with an encouraging grin, “Crash,” she said, grabbing her wrist. “We’re doing this.”
“I regret everything,” Victoria whimpered, but it was too late as they were on stage.The lights were brighter up there and the crowd blurred slightly at the edges, faces indistinct except for flashes of movement, colour, raised glasses.
Trinity grabbed one microphone, passed the other to Victoria, who held it like it might explode. “Relax,” Trinity murmured, bumping her shoulder lightly, “just follow my lead.”
She took the first line, easy, smooth, her voice settling into the melody like it belonged there.
It wasn’t perfect, she wasn’t trying to be, though from the way Victoria’s eyes had widened in shock, Trinity knew her voice was much better than the other woman had imagined. It was one of her closely guarded secrets, the only people that knew of her talent were Dennis but that was due to the unavoidable overhearing her in the shower that came with living together, and Yolanda but some things are better left buried. Deep down, in the deepest and darkest pits of her memories.
She shook her head and turned to Victoria who was focused on the screen, on the words, like if she slipped for even a second everything would fall apart.
“See?” Trinity murmured between lines, “you’re fine.”
“Don’t talk to me,” she whispered but Trinity could hear the smile in her words, big and bright with all of her teeth on show.
By the time the closing vocals for the song started playing, the crowd had gotten really into it. They whooped and cheered and clapped in time. Trinity scanned her adoring admirers with an even bigger grin on her face.
It was easy, up here. Easy to be this version of herself, bright, untouchable; a little too loud, a little too confident. The lights were warm against her skin, the music carried her, the crowd fed her energy right back. She thrived on it.
Her gaze drifted lazily across the room, faces blurring into one another, flashes of smiles, raised drinks, someone whistling far too loudly. And then, it stuttered and stopped, like something had snagged beneath her ribs and yanked.
At first, it didn’t register. Nothing more than a shape in the crowd, dark hair that soaked up the moisture in the air, the same dark hair she’d buried her nose and whispered confessions into. It hit then, thunderous, like an elephant sitting on her chest, or however patients had described heart attacks to her, because across from the stage, solid enough that she was definitely real, was Yolanda Garcia.
She was standing exactly where Victoria had been looking all night with a drink in hand, something sour most likely, tart enough to make Trinity’s lips purse and scald away her tastebuds anytime she’d let her lips meet Yolanda’s and swallow up anything the other woman had offered to her. It had been a warning, clear as day, though Trinity hadn’t listened until it was much too late. Her firm shoulder leaned casually against the counter like she’d been there the whole time, like she hadn’t just stepped into Trinity’s carefully curated, Yolanda-free universe and blown a hole straight through it.
She looked the same, of course she did. It had been just three weeks since the ill-fated fourth of July shift, when she’d freed herself from her fate as stress relief squeeze toy extraordinaire, though freedom did not feel quite as good as she had imagined.
Same sharp lines, same stillness, same eyes that saw too much and gave too little away, and those eyes were locked on her.
Trinity’s breath caught, song lyrics and performance forgotten. Her heart had managed to start beating again, out from the elephant’s heavy foot, but now it ran too fast, too hard, like she was in danger. The world seemed to go quiet around her and her vision blurred,Trinity’s grip tightened around the microphone.
Beside her, Victoria had stopped singing too, Trinity turned her head slightly and caught that Victoria wasn’t looking at the screen. She wasn’t looking at Trinity either, instead her eyes were fixed on Yolanda, and her face, clear as day to see, was soaked in guilt.
Trinity’s stomach dropped, not from the shock this time, or at least not from the shock over seeing Yolanda on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. It was instead from the understanding that all the weird looks, and sudden agreements, the way Victoria had kept redirecting and distracting-
“Oh, you absolute traitor,” Trinity said, though it came out more like a groan as her head continued to swim, not even sure if she was angry or impressed or just dizzy.
The final chorus swelled and she turned back to the audience, she could still feel Yolanda’s eyes on her.
“Trin?” Victoria asked, her voice, low, alarmed and much too close.
The room tilted as Trinity blinked and tried to focus. Her grip on the microphone loosened and it hit the stage with a dull, echoing thud, followed, a heartbeat later, by Trinity Santos herself.
For a moment, there was nothing. No sound or light or stage, there was no Yolanda Gracia and nor was there a Trinity Santos, just that heavy, suspended dark that felt less like sleep and more like being switched off.
Something pressed cool against her cheek and a voice, low, familiar in a way that made something deep in her chest twist before her brain could catch up, whispered in her ear, “hey, hey,Trinity come on, open your eyes.”
The world came back wrong. Trinity flinched before her eyes were even fully open, a sharp, instinctive recoil, like her body had recognised the danger before she had. Her lashes fluttered, vision swimming as shapes bled into one another until they didn’t. She saw the eyes first, a deceitful softness buried within the brown irises.
Yolanda.
Trinity jerked back with a startled breath, shoulders hitting the wooden deck floor hard. Her pulse spiked violently, the echo of the stage lights still burning behind her eyes. “What,” her voice came out rough, disoriented, “what the fuck?”
Yolanda Garcia froze for half a second, her hands still hovering where Trinity’s face had been cradled, fingers curling slightly like she didn’t quite know what to do with them now. Relief flickered first through those eyes, then something else swallowed it whole.“Easy,” Yolanda said, quieter this time, like she was trying not to spook her, “you fainted.”
“No, I-” Trinity pushed herself up further, breath uneven, brain scrambling to catch up with her body, “I don’t faint.”
“You did.”
“I don’t,” she stopped, pressing a hand briefly to her temple as the world lurched again, slower this time but no less irritating. “I don’t do that,” she insisted, weaker.
Yolanda’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, “congratulations. New skill unlocked.”
“Don’t,” Trinity snapped, sharper than she intended, because it was easier than dealing with the way her chest felt like it was folding in on itself, “don’t joke, we don’t do that anymore.”
Yolanda went still. For a second, it looked like she might actually say something real. Something that had weight. Her jaw shifted slightly, eyes searching Trinity’s face in that same too-seeing way that had always made her feel so exposed.“Trinity, I-”
Footsteps, quick and purposeful, cut straight through the moment as Baran Al-Hashimi reappeared like she’d been summoned by sheer narrative timing, already rolling up her sleeves, a bottle of water in one hand and a neatly folded towel in the other.
She took in the scene in a single glance, Trinity pale and sweaty, and Yolanda too close, the tension practically humming between them, and, to her credit, didn’t comment on any of it.Instead, she stepped in smoothly, professional mode locking into place, “step back please, she needs medical attention,” she said to Yolanda before turning to Trinity with a small smile, “Dr Santos,” she said, crouching slightly in front of her, voice calm but threaded with something faintly amused, “I didn’t think you’d be the first patient I treat on this cruise.”
“Excuse me,” Yolanda interrupted, a scowl on her lips, “I am a medical doctor, I was just assessing her.”
“Thank you,” Dr Al-Hashimi nodded dismissively, “but I am this ship’s doctor and I can more than manage it from here.”
Yolanda stood straighter at the dismissal, that one vein in her neck bulging, “I think I can still be of use, I am a trauma surgeon at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre and not to mention I have a close personal relationship with Dr Santos here, it would be good for her to have a familiar face managing her care.”
Trinity let out a short, disbelieving breath that might have been a laugh on a better day, what even was her life right now? she thought to herself. “Stand down,” she muttered to Yolanda, “I fainted, I didn’t have a heart attack,” then she turned to speak to Dr Al-Hashimi, “could I have some of that water?” she gestured to the plastic bottle.
“Of course, small sips,” Dr Al-Hashimi offered, both of them doing an expert job of ignoring Yolanda as she glowered in the corner.
“I know how to drink water,” Trinity said automatically.
Dr Al-Hashimi raised an eyebrow.
“…Right,” Trinity conceded, taking the bottle anyway.
The towel came next, cool and damp as it pressed gently to the back of her neck this time. Trinity flinched again, less violently, more out of residual tension than surprise.
“Hey,” Al-Hashimi said, softer now, “stay with me a second, okay? Any chest pain? Palpitations? Nausea?”
“Just my wounded pride,” Trinity muttered, then, after a beat, “and maybe, everything else.”
“Mm. We’ll survive that,” Al-Hashimi replied easily, “did you eat today?”
Trinity hesitated and that was answer enough.
“Santos, you’d think you’d remember to eat on vacation,” a chocolate bar found its way into her hands at the words.
“Ellis,” she squinted in confusion, spotting the night shift doctor a few paces away from her, “and Walsh? Am I having a seizure or did I die?”
“Think you’d be in hell then Santos,” Walsh said, so matter of factly that Trinity didn’t know if she was joking or not.
“Don’t tease her Emery, she’s still coming round,” Ellis responded stepping closer, “sorry to spring it up on you, it was a surprise for us too, to spot the ED intern and Shamsi’s daughter on our only vacation. Small world huh?”
“I’m an R2 now,” Trinity corrected absently as the words took their time to register, before her head snapped towards where Victoria was standing, the movement slower than usual but still sharp enough to make the point. Victoria was a few feet away from her with hands clasped too tightly in front of her, eyes wide and unmistakably apologetic.
“Oh no,” Trinity said weakly, squinting at her, “don’t you start with that face.”
“I didn’t-” Victoria began.
“You did,” Trinity cut in, pointing at her with the hand not holding the water, “you absolutely did. That’s your ‘I committed a crime but I think it was for the greater good’ face.”
“I just thought-”
“You thought wrong.”
“That’s um completely fair,” Victoria said quickly.
The other women glanced between them, interest flickering briefly, before refocusing. Dr Al-Hashimi was the first to speak, “we can litigate crimes later,” she said, “right now, you nearly passed out, I’m going to insist you come down to the medical centre for a proper check.”
“Bossy,” Trinity murmured, “I just got a little dizzy, it’s a hot day, sue me.”
“I will not argue Dr Santos,”
“Trinity, this is serious,”
Al-Hashimi and Yolanda spoke at the same time. Trinity looked around for a way out, but it seemed like she was stuck, so she nodded resignedly and let herself be walked back to deck three, for the second time that day.
The walk back felt longer this time, Ellis and Walsh decided to stay but Yolanda and Victoria insisted on accompanying her. It wasn’t longer physically, the corridors were the same bland beige, the same too-clean railings, the same doors with their identical, impersonal numbers, but everything else had shifted. The air felt thicker somehow, like it had weight to it. Or maybe that was just Trinity’s pride dragging behind her like a dead body.
She walked between them, which was already a problem. Dr Al-Hashimi slightly ahead, steady and purposeful, guiding without hovering and Yolanda just off her shoulder. Too close, she was always too close. What kind of person asked for casual and in the same breath offered to play house with her using some flimsy excuse about renovations?
Victoria trailed behind, unusually quiet, which, frankly, was more unnerving than anything else.
“You don’t have to escort me like I’m actively dying,” Trinity muttered after a beat, glancing sideways, not quite at Yolanda, but near enough.
“No one said you were dying,” Yolanda replied evenly.
“You implied it.”
“I didn’t.”
“You used your trauma surgeon voice.”
“That’s just my voice.”
“That’s deeply unfortunate for everyone involved.”
There was the faintest pause, like something almost broke through, something softer, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“Trinity,” Victoria cut in carefully from behind, “maybe just, don’t antagonise the people making sure you’re okay?”
“I’m perfectly okay,” Trinity shot back, immediately proving otherwise by missing a step and correcting too quickly.
A hand hovered near her elbow. Yolanda’s.
“I’ve got it,” she said, a little too sharp, straightening as the hand withdrew.
Dr Al-Hashimi glanced back at that, eyes flicking between them, taking in everything and filing it away with quiet precision.“Almost there,” she said simply.
The medical centre doors swung open again and suddenly Trinity was back in it, that same clean, contained space, except now those eyes that followed her and hunted her down were right next to her.
“Sit,” Al-Hashimi instructed, already moving, efficient in a way that didn’t feel rushed.
Trinity dropped onto the edge of one of the beds with a small huff, “you know, usually I charge for this level of attention.”
Victoria made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh.
Yolanda didn’t react, except to scowl again, like she had any right to.
Dr Al-Hashimi did, though, just a small curve of her mouth, gone as quickly as it appeared, “vitals first,” she said, wrapping the cuff around Trinity’s arm with practised ease.
The silence that followed wasn’t really silence. It was full of things unsaid.Of Victoria hovering near the foot of the bed like she wasn’t sure whether she was allowed to exist.And of Yolanda standing off to the side, arms crossed now, posture locked down tight enough to be read as professional if you didn’t know her. Trinity knew her, and that was precisely the problem.
That was the problem.
“Heart rate’s up,” Al-Hashimi noted mildly.
“Wow,” Trinity said flatly, “it’s almost like something stressful just happened.”
“Mm,” Al-Hashimi hummed, not rising to it, “blood pressure’s fine. Any history of syncope?”
“No.”
“Any recent illness?”
“No.”
“Significant stress?”
Trinity opened her mouth and closed it, “define significant,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Yolanda looking away.
Al-Hashimi didn’t miss a beat, “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said instead.
“It’s been a week,” Trinity muttered, “I should be over it anyway. No significant stress Baran, just too much to drink I think.”
“It’s been three,” Yolanda countered quietly, before she could stop herself, Trinity’s head snapped towards her.
“Oh,” she said, voice light in a way that meant the opposite, “you’re keeping track?”
Yolanda’s jaw tightened, “I didn’t mean-”
“No, no,” Trinity waved a hand lazily, “it’s fine. Good to know I made an impression, a girl can get confused you know?.”
“Trinity,” Victoria warned, low.
“What?” Trinity turned to her, incredulous, “she started it.”
“Oh my god,” Victoria pressed her fingers to her temple, “can we not do this in a clinical setting?”
“That would be ideal,” Dr Al-Hashimi cut in smoothly, though there was something sharper underneath now, a quiet authority settling into place, “for everyone involved.”
Trinity leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose, “fine,” she muttered, “I’m done.”
Al-Hashimi stepped back slightly, assessing her, “this looks like a vasovagal episode,” she said, “likely triggered by a combination of heat, alcohol, dehydration, and,” a brief glance between the three of them, “external stressors.I’d like to keep you here for observation for a little while,” Al-Hashimi continued, “fluids, something to eat, and then we’ll reassess.”
“That seems excessive.”
“That seems necessary. Dr Santos.”
Trinity narrowed her eyes slightly as Al-Hashimi held her gaze and did not budge.
“…Fine,” Trinity relented, flopping back against the pillows like she was being personally victimised by medicine.
“Right,” Al-Hashimi said, already turning away to prep fluids, “one of you can stay.”
Trinity sat up immediately, “Crash.”
Victoria blinked, “what?”
“You’re staying.”
“I-okay, yes, obviously, I was going to-”
“And you,” Trinity pointed at Yolanda without looking at her, “can go enjoy your vacation.”
“I’m not leaving,” Yolanda said, not as a question. It was never questions with Yolanda, even when she asked, she knew Trinity would always say yes anyway.
Trinity laughed, short and disbelieving, “you always were bad at following instructions.”
“And you always pretend you don’t need help when you do.”
The words cut deep and something flickered across Trinity’s face, something real, something raw and far too close to the surface.“I’m fine,” she said again, quieter this time, answering a question that hadn’t been asked.
Yolanda didn’t respond, she didn’t argue, which somehow felt worse.
Dr Al-Hashimi returned then, mercifully, “I’ll let you all negotiate that amongst yourselves,” she said dryly, “but if my patient’s stress levels increase, I will start removing people.”
Trinity leaned her head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, heart still beating too fast for reasons that had very little to do with dehydration.This was supposed to be easy, a week away, sun, drinks and several nights of bad decisions. Enough mistakes so she could forget one of the biggest she’d made.She huffed out a quiet laugh, “yeah,” she muttered to herself, “this is going great.”
For the first time in what was probably ever, Yolanda Garcia did as asked, without even being asked.
Trinity did not see her. Not once.
Not at the shared mealtimes, where she had taken to leading a rousing breakfast chant that netted her a few fond smiles from Dr Al-Hashimi and a kiss or two from particularly enthusiastic cruise-goers. Nor did she see her at the afternoon mixers, where Trinity moved through crowds like she belonged to them, laughter spilling easily from her mouth, drinks appearing in her hands as if by magic.
Not at karaoke, not at the late-night deck parties, not even during her shifts in the medical centre, where, on more than one occasion, Trinity had caught herself glancing up from a patient, half-expecting but it was always nothing.
Yolanda Garcia, it seemed, had vanished. Trinity had flirted with the ship’s captain, and bagged herself a few glances at the passenger manifest and she’d seen her name there, under party of three, next to Walsh and Ellis, so it was certain that Yolanda was on this ship, even though she was nowhere to be found.
It shouldn’t have bothered Trinity, it shouldn’t have rankled at her insiders like a festering ulcer, but it did. It was as though Trinity had been handed a shiny red button and told not to press it, and then a few days later, the button had been taken from her and hidden somewhere, the metaphor was getting a little out of hand, but all of it is to say that Trinity missed Yolanda. Her disloyal heart beat stubbornly for the other woman, and it hurt, more than it had any right to, that Yolanda was the one doing the avoiding.
So, naturally, Trinity Santos swore even more to have the best week of her life. A drink here, a conversation there, a joke that landed a little too well and opened the door to three more. By the end of the second day, she had a loose rotation of people who waved her over like she belonged to them, and by the third, she’d stopped correcting them. She never did anything more than kissing, even that was too much sometimes, but if she was going to move on, she had to forget. And the thing she knew would take the longest to forget was how Yolanda felt next to her, holding her, the warmth of her strong hands, enough to take Trinity apart and build her back together, all at the same time.
“Crash,” she announced on their fourth day, sprawling across a sun lounger like she’d personally negotiated the weather, and was now reaping her rewards, “I think I’ve cracked it.” It hadn’t taken long for her to forgive Victoria, she had only been trying her best to help, but she did make the other woman grovel a little, just for the fun of it.
Victoria didn’t look up from her book, it was some silly romance one, the sort where all the covers looked like Canva generated icons, “you said that yesterday.”
“And I meant it then. I just mean it more now.”
“Have you been drinking?” Victoria asked rudely
“Hydration is important,” Trinity said, lifting her glass in emphasis, “and this is a mocktail thank you very much, I’m on call in case you forgot.”
Victoria snorted, finally glancing over, she placed a little crocheted flower bookmark in between her book before closing it softly and turning completely towards Trinity, “so what have you cracked?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Oh Crash, your gay guru is truly thriving out here,” Trinity grinned, turning her face toward the sun, eyes half-lidded against the brightness. And she was, it was easy, out here.Too easy. No bleeps, no blood, no fluorescent lights humming overhead. There were no charts waiting for her to complete them, documenting ‘dramamine administered’ which was the bulk of her work took less than five minutes, even shorter when Victoria did some finicky computer shortcut template things. There was no Frank Langdon either, stealing all the sunlight for himself, whilst she floundered in the dark.
No Yolanda too.
The thought slipped in anyway, uninvited and sharp. Trinity pushed it aside just as quickly, rolling onto her side and nudging Victoria’s knee with her foot.
“Get up,” she said, already sitting forward,“I’ve decided you’re going on a date.”
Victoria froze, “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me. I can’t really let your first date be with some Hinge weirdo and you need practice if Mckay would let you be Harrison’s step-mommy, having a high score in ‘steal a brainrot doesn’t count’.”
“Trinity,” Victoria whisper shouted, “do you want to say it any louder? Dr Ellis and Dr Walsh are like right there,” she pointed dramatically.
And she was right, even though Yolanda had made herself scarce, Trinity seemed to run into Ellis and Walsh with every step she took. If she didn’t know any better, or was really big headed, she might have thought they were keeping tabs on her, reporting back to Yolanda. But that couldn’t be true because it would require Yolanda to care, and no one cared about casual.
“Yes, I do, Victoria,” she joked, “come on, it’s one date. You can’t spend all your time here in the clinic or reading your shitty porn books.”
“It’s not porn Trinity,” Victoria whisper shouted again, “and no I won’t be going on this date. For all I know you’ve set me up with one of the pineapple people,” she shuddered.
“Oh but you were so enthusiastic about it in the beginning,” Trinity teased, “and don’t worry, this date is very appropriate, you’re not ready for that yet. In fact, she might be too appropriate, more girl next door, than mom of girl next door.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes,” Trinity shot back, already scanning the deck like she was selecting from a menu, “this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Crash. Growth. Development. Character building.”
“This is harassment.”
“This,” Trinity corrected, spotting her target and lighting up, “is romance.”
Victoria followed her line of sight despite herself, and immediately regretted it, “you’ve already spoken to her, haven’t you?”
Trinity didn’t even pretend otherwise, “only briefly.”
“Trinity.”
“Okay, extensively,” she amended, completely unrepentant. “Her name’s Leila, she’s a teacher, she thinks you’re intimidating but in a good way, which is-”
“I don’t need a translation.”
“You do. Trust me, you absolutely do.”
Victoria dragged a hand down her face, “I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Trinity said brightly, already grabbing her wrist and hauling her upright, “now come on. If this goes well, I take full credit. If it goes badly, I was never here.”
“This is emotional sabotage.”
“This,” Trinity said, steering her toward the waiting conversation, “is me being an excellent friend.”
Victoria dug her heels in for all of three seconds, but followed Trinity as she marched them over to where a bookish looking woman with thick curly hair and sunkissed brown skin sat reading.
“Hi,” Trinity said, already smiling like she’d been invited, like she belonged there, like this was all completely normal and not, in fact, a carefully orchestrated ambush.
Leila looked up, startled for a fraction of a second before her expression softened into something shy but warm, once she spotted Victoria, “hi.”
“This is Victoria, the one I was talking about earlier", Trinity continued, gesturing with a flourish that would have been excessive if it wasn’t so entirely on brand, “future world-renowned doctor, current menace, and-”
“Trinity,” Victoria cut in tightly.
“-and,” Trinity ploughed on, undeterred, “deeply in need of a holiday romance.”
“I am not-” Victoria started, then stopped, exhaling through her nose as she turned to Leila with a strained but polite smile. “Hi. I’m Victoria.”
“Leila,” she replied, a little more confidently now, “nice to meet you.”
“See?” Trinity clapped her hands once, delighted, “connections already being made. I’ll just-” she pointed vaguely over her shoulder, already backing away, “leave you two to it.”
“Don’t you dare!” Victoria hissed, but Trinity was gone.
She didn’t go far, of course.
Just far enough.
Far enough to lean against the bar, to order something cold and sweet, to watch from a distance with the kind of casual interest that meant she was, in fact, paying attention to everything.At first, it was awkward, of course. Victoria stood too straight, hands hovering like she didn’t quite know what to do with them. Leila tucked a curl of hair behind her ear twice in quick succession. There were pauses, small and stilted.
And then, something shifted. A question landed properly. An answer followed without overthinking. A laugh, a little late, but real.Trinity felt something warm bloom in her chest at the sight of it, ignoring the bitter undercurrent of jealousy there too, if only it could be that easy for her, she thought to herself.
“Look at her,” she murmured to herself, lifting her drink, “all grown up.”
“Bit creepy, watching from afar like that.”
Trinity turned automatically, grin already forming, she’d thought she knew that voice, the teasing scorn, but it wasn’t her. It wasn’t Yolanda.
“Hey Dr Ellis,” she tilted her head as Parker Ellis, all wet swim trunks and sun warmed skin, took the barstool right beside her.
“Please Santos, call me Parker, I don’t want to remember I’m a doctor for the three days we have left in this paradise.”
“Then call me Trinity,” she grinned, “paradise huh? You must be having fun.”
“What can I say? It’s hard being this irresistible,” she flexed, water droplets trickling down her defined abdomen and collecting in the waistband of her trunks. Trinity was sure she felt about a hundred hungry eyes zero in on them.
“Put it away,” she joked as Ellis joined in on the laughter, “you’re not wrong though,” she said more simply, “being here makes me dread going back. It’s just so much more simple here.”
“Yeah,” Parker nodded, “I heard what happened with Langdon."
Trinity’s heart stopped, “heard?” she asked hurriedly, forcing a look of confusion on her face, if it somehow got out and now everyone knew Langdon had been tampering with and diverting medicines from the actual hospital, she was sure she’d be blamed for it as well. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” denial is always the best way forward.
“Oh, I forget you left a few days early for your leave, erm Langdon came out and said it, got a group of us together and did one of his twelve step things, this one had something to do with honesty. He didn’t say who blew the whistle, but it’s pretty obvious,” she paused, “like I said, you two got beef.”
“Oh great,” as if working at the PTMC couldn’t get any worse.
“Don’t worry, don’t stress Trin,” she stopped, “can I call you Trin?” at Trinity’s nod, she continued, “I know hospital gossip is intense but you did the right thing and the people that matter know that, Langdon should be grateful to you.”
“Thanks Parker,” her eyes felt a little teary, “your words are very kind, I just wished they were true.”
“You talking about Yoli?” Ellis asked, but without waiting for an answer she continued, “she’s really sorry Trinity, I told her to speak to you, me and Walsh did once we saw you guys in the TSA line, but she’s a coward. I’m her friend and I know it.”
“Yeah,” Trinity shrugged, “it’s not a big deal, we were only ever casual anyway.”
“Still,” Ellis held her gaze, “anyway if you want an escape from the gossip vultures, night shift would be more than happy to have you, we have too many crazy patients to gossip about, so trust, you wouldn’t even be a blimp on the juicy gossip radar.”
“Ha,” Trinity chuckled, “I might just take you up on that Parker,” her pager chose that exact moment to beep, “thanks for the talk,” she said as she gathered her things to head to the medical bay, “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“You do that Trinity, and for what it’s worth, she misses you. She’s just doing what she thinks is best for you.”
Trinity didn’t ask who ‘she’ was; she didn’t need to, “maybe she should let me decide that myself.”
“Like I said, she’s a massive coward.”
The medical bay was cooler and quieter, like it always was in comparison to the upper deck. The hum of machinery replaced the chaos of the deck here, and Trinity felt something in her shoulders loosen automatically as she stepped inside.
“Perfect timing,” Dr Al-Hashimi said, not looking up as she snapped on a pair of gloves, “we’ve got a probable heat exhaustion, borderline sunstroke.”
“Of course we do,” Trinity muttered, already washing her hands, “can’t let me enjoy myself for too long.”
“You?” Al-Hashimi glanced up briefly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes, “enjoying yourself? I’m shocked.”
“Devastated, really,” Trinity replied dryly, stepping over to the bed.
The patient, a woman in her sixties maybe, with bleach blonde hair and an expertly made up face that now looked a little worse for wear, flushed from the sun and her eyes, slightly disoriented. She groaned softly as Trinity approached.
“Hi,” Trinity said gently, tone shifting without effort, “I’m Dr Santos. You’ve overdone it in the sun a bit, yeah?”
A weak nod, “last time I come to a lesbian cruise, last time I listen to Ava Daniels and her Rachael Maddow shoes."
“Alright,” Trinity furrowed her brow, a little puzzled, “she seems a little confused,” she whispered aside to Dr Al-Hashimi, and then to the patient, “don’t worry ma’am we’ll fix you right up. Fluids, cooling, bit of rest. You’ll be back out there in no time.”
“She won’t be going back out today,” Al-Hashimi corrected mildly, already adjusting the saline drip.
Trinity glanced at her, “you’re ruining my patient satisfaction scores.”
“I’m preserving her organs,” Al-Hashimi countered in that quietly confident way she favoured.
“Debatable which is more important.”
Al-Hashimi huffed a quiet laugh.
They worked easily together, and that was the problem.It was smooth in a way that felt almost familiar, a rhythm Trinity recognised, where they anticipated each other’s movements, passing things without asking, small glances that said more than words. It wasn’t like how she and Yolanda moved through a trauma, that could only be built by months of connection, but it could become that. One day maybe, it was too easy to slip into.
“You’re good at this,” Al-Hashimi said after a moment, watching Trinity adjust the patient’s positioning.
“Um,” Trinity replied uncharacteristically bashful, the way she always got after a genuine compliment, struggling to keep the little smile off her face, “thank you.”
“I mean it,” she said, quieter now, “you’re very present, Dr Santos. Patients notice that.”
Trinity shrugged, focusing on the task at hand, “occupational hazard, I’ve always been really attention seeking, you should ask my mother,” she joked.
“Hmm,” Al-Hashimi murmured, “I’ll never call that a hazard Trinity.”
Silence settled for a beat, comfortable but charged as Al-Hashimi leaned back slightly against the counter, arms loosely crossed. “There’s a games night later,” she said casually, “storm protocol. We gather everyone in the reinforced areas, keep morale up.”
“Very wholesome,” Trinity said,”it’s like summer camp though mine involved more spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.”
“It can be,” she replied, then, after a beat, “you should come.”
Trinity glanced up.
“I will,” she said lightly, “I love a good game.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dr Al-Hashimi’s voice had taken on a sultry note now, “and your games? Spin the bottle? Seven minutes in heaven, that can all be arranged.”
Trinity held her gaze for a second, then two;Al-Hashimi didn’t look away.
“I meant,” she continued, calm, steady, “with me.”
Ah, there it was.Trinity exhaled softly through her nose, something in her chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the heat, “you’re very direct,” she said.
“I don’t like wasting time.”
“Dangerous trait on a cruise like this.”
“Or efficient.”
Trinity huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head slightly, “you’re very tempting, Baran.”
“I’m aware.”
That pulled a real smile out of her.
For a second, just a second, she let herself imagine it. Easy conversation. Shared glances. Something uncomplicated.Something not, not Yolanda.Her jaw tightened, just slightly.“Yeah,” Trinity said finally, softer now, “I can’t.”
Al-Hashimi didn’t react immediately, “can’t,” she repeated.
“Won’t,” Trinity corrected, just as quietly, “same difference.”
“Because of her,” Al-Hashimi said, not a question.
Trinity didn’t bother pretending,“yeah.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who waits around,” Al-Hashimi said carefully.
“I don’t,” Trinity agreed, “that’s kind of the problem.”Her fingers stilled briefly against the patient’s arm before she forced herself to keep moving. “I asked for casual,” she went on, voice lighter than the words deserved, “thought I could handle it. Thought it’d be easy.”
“And it wasn’t.”
Trinity let out a short breath, “ten months,” she said, “that’s not casual, that’s like a whole thing. A whole life, practically.”
The patient suddenly looked up, “you millenials,” she said scornfully, “I thought lesbians were meant to be the whole u-haul, move in after the first day stereotype.”
“I’m sorry?” Trinity asked quizzically, “ma’am you can’t get up,” she tried to stop the patient as she rose from the hospital bed, hand around the drip stand.
The patient ignored her, Trinity caught the ‘Vance’ written in all caps on her wrist bracelet. “Just tell the girl you love her if you’re that bothered, I mean I don’t eat box, but if I had a hot doctor like Baran asking me out,” she winked salaciously at Dr. Al-Hashimi, “I wouldn't hesitate to say no.”
“Um,” Trinity replied dumbly. Dr Al-Hashimi too seemed like she was in shock.
“I’ll head to the main shelter with Miss Vance,” Dr Al Hashimi said at last, “you’re good to close up here aren’t you?”
“Yes, boss,” Trinity said, her brain still struggling to catch up with the events that had just taken place as she watched the two older women walk out the doors.
The patient was right, she supposed, Trinity wasn’t over Yolanda, which was understandable, what was irrational was the fact that she clearly didn’t want to be over her. It surprised her to admit it, even to herself, but it was true. She missed Yolanda something awful.
She moved automatically after that, hands finding their rhythm even as her mind refused to settle. Dispose of sharps. Check the drip stands. Wipe down surfaces that didn’t need wiping, just to have something to do.
Ten months.
It echoed louder now in the quiet.
Trinity paused by the counter, staring down at nothing in particular, cloth still in her hand. She couldn’t remember when it had shifted, when casual had stopped meaning what it was supposed to. It had been her idea, hadn’t it? Keep it light. Keep it easy. No expectations, no obligations, no messy, complicated feelings.
No one gets hurt.
She huffed out a quiet, humourless laugh.
“Yeah,” she murmured to herself, “brilliant plan, Santos.”
Because ten months wasn’t casual. Ten months was knowing the exact cadence of someone’s laugh before it happened. Ten months was instinctively reaching for the same person in a crowded room. Ten months was muscle memory and habit and something far more dangerous threaded quietly underneath it all.
Ten months was a lifetime.
A sharp alarm cut through the silence. Trinity startled, the cloth slipping from her fingers as the harsh, mechanical blare filled the bay.
“Attention all passengers and crew,” the announcement crackled overhead, voice steady but urgent,“due to severe weather conditions, all individuals are to remain in their current location. Repeat, remain where you are. Do not attempt to move between decks until further notice.”
Trinity frowned, glancing instinctively at the door,“that was quick,” she muttered,Al-Hashimi had said the storm was brewing, not that it was already here.The ship lurched, subtle, but enough that Trinity felt it under her feet, a shift in balance that made her stomach dip slightly. The low hum of the vessel deepened, strained, like it was bracing itself.
She exhaled slowly, grounding herself.“Okay,” she said aloud, more for her own benefit than anything else, “fine. We’re fine,” the med bay was reinforced. Designed for exactly this. If there was anywhere on the ship you wanted to be during a storm, it was here.
Another sound cut through the alarm, knocking, panicked knocking.
Trinity froze, thinking she had imagined it but it came again, sharper this time and more insistent. Her gaze snapped to the door.A flicker of unease curled low in her stomach, fear. Everyone had just been told to stay put, no one should be moving around the ship right now.
The knocking came again.
“Alright,” she called out, forcing steadiness into her voice as she crossed the room, “I’m coming.”She hesitated just for a second before unlocking it, fingers hovering over the handle, before she pulled it over, a scalpel tucked inside her closed fist, just in case.
The doors swung open and everything in her chest dropped. Yolanda Garcia was standing in front of her.
Her hair was slightly damp, like she’d rushed through, just before the rain had fully taken shape, and her breath came out in uneven puffs. Her eyes were the same as they always were, dark, steady and fixed entirely on Trinity.
The alarm continue to blare overhead and the ship shifted again beneath their feet.
Trinity’s grip tightened on the door.
“You’re not meant to be moving around,” she said finally, the words coming out sharper than she intended, thinner too, stretched tight over something far less controlled.
Yolanda didn’t answer straight away. Her gaze flicked over Trinity quickly, like she was checking, assessing,before settling again, “you’re trying to drop the scalpel in my foot again?” she said at last, her first words in days to Trinity, “I think I do deserve this time.”
Trinity didn’t laugh.
Yolanda continued quieter, “I was coming to find you, I needed to and the med student said you’ll be here, then the storm broke out and-”
Something in Trinity’s chest twisted, “her name is Victoria. Victoria Javadi, she’ll be your colleague soon enough.”
“Right sorry, Victoria, told me you’d be in here. I wanted us to talk.”
The storm raged somewhere beyond the walls, distant but growing, the ship creaking softly under the pressure of it.Behind her, the medical bay stood warm, contained, safe.Between them, the doorway hung open.
Trinity stepped back first, “get in,” she said, “it’s not safe outside.”
The door shut behind Yolanda with a solid, final click. She stood there for a second after the door shut, like she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself now that she’d made it inside.Water beaded along the edge of her jaw, caught in the loose strands of her hair. Her chest rose and fell a little too quickly, like she’d run harder than she was willing to admit.
Trinity didn’t move far from the door.She folded her arms instead, the scalpel now set down somewhere behind her, out of sight but not out of mind. Distance, she decided. Distance was good. “You’ve got about,” she glanced briefly at the clock on the wall, more for something to look at than any real need for the time, “however long this storm lasts.”
Yolanda let out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh but without any humour in it, “that’s a very long time.”
“I’m a very generous woman,” Trinity countered, her words playful but the tone the opposite.
Another shift of the ship, heavier this time. Something rattled faintly in the cupboards behind them. Neither of them looked away from the other.
“Trinity-” Yolanda started.
“Don’t,” Trinity cut in, sharp enough that it surprised even her. She pushed off from the door, moving further into the room, creating even more space, putting a counter between them like it might help. “If you’ve come in here to do that thing where you soften your voice and make it sound reasonable, don’t.”
Yolanda’s jaw tightened slightly, she was annoyed, Trinity knew that look. Once upon a time, she’d thought she’d never see it directed at her,“I’m not-”
“You are,” Trinity said, a humorless edge creeping in now, “you always do. You make it sound like it makes sense. Like I’m the one being a bit dramatic if I don’t agree.”
“That’s not fair.”
Trinity laughed once, short and disbelieving. “No? I’ll tell you what’s not fair, cancelling on me the day of, telling me to go to therapy if I’m upset about work, about Langdon, implying I’m difficult and that’s why people don’t like me,” she ticked them off on her fingers, each one landing a little harder, “and then what was it? Oh yeah. That I’m only good for one thing.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Trinity shot back, finally looking at her properly now, something raw and unguarded breaking through, “you implied it just fine cause I know you don’t need me for my dollar fifty packs of cup noodles.”
Yolanda swallowed,“I messed up.”
Trinity huffed out a breath, turning away slightly, dragging a hand through her hair, “that’s one way of putting it.”
“I panicked.”
That made Trinity pause.Not turn back,not yet,but pause.
“I panicked,” Yolanda repeated, quieter now, like she was forcing the words out one at a time, “because it stopped being casual. And I don’t,” she exhaled sharply, frustrated, “I don’t do anything that isn’t controlled.”
Trinity’s shoulders tensed.
“You knew that,” Yolanda went on, “from the start. I keep things separate. Work is work. Life is life. I don’t mix them because when they mix, things get messy and people get hurt.”
“And yet,” Trinity said, still not turning around, voice thin with restraint, “here we are.”
“Exactly,” Yolanda said, a little helplessly, “here we are. When you told Robby about Langdon,” Yolanda continued, “everything at work shifted. People talk, they take sides, and you-” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “you don’t, soften yourself for people. You never have.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“I know,” Yolanda said quickly, “I know that, I love that about you. But it makes things harder, for you. And I saw it happening, the way people were looking at you, the way things were changing, and I thought-” she broke off, shaking her head, “I thought if I stepped back, if I didn’t add to it, it would make things easier for you.”
Trinity turned then, incredulous. “By abandoning me?”
“‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I said everything badly, I did everything badly. I was trying to create distance and I-” she let out a frustrated breath, “I overshot. By a lot.”
“Funny way of putting it.”
“I didn’t know how to do it halfway,” Yolanda said, meeting her gaze properly now. “Because there isn’t a halfway with you, Trinity. There never was.”
Trinity’s expression flickered, something softer threatening to surface before she pushed it back down.“You don’t get to do that,” she said, quieter now but no less firm. “You don’t get to decide for me what I can handle. You don’t get to decide that I’d be better off without you and then just,” she gestured vaguely between them, “disappear.”
“I know.”
“You don’t,” Trinity snapped, “because if you did, you wouldn’t have done it.”
Yolanda held her ground,“I know now. I didn’t think it would feel like this,” Yolanda said after a moment, softer now, almost reluctant, “staying away from you.”
Trinity’s throat tightened despite herself, she could taste the tears, sharp and sour. The warning she’d never listened to.
“I thought it would be cleaner,” Yolanda went on, “simpler. But it wasn’t. It was,” she shook her head once, like she couldn’t quite find the right word, “worse.I missed you, I’ve missed you so much Trinity.”
Yolanda took a small step forward. Not close enough to touch. Just enough to close some of the distance.
“I don’t only want you for sex.”
Trinity’s jaw tightened.
“I know that’s what it looked like,” Yolanda continued, steady now despite everything, “but it’s not true. It’s never been true.”
“You’re very convincing when you want to be,” Trinity said flatly.
“I’m not trying to convince you,” Yolanda said. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“And the truth is what, exactly?”
Yolanda didn’t hesitate this time.
“The truth is that I liked you too much,” she said. “More than I planned to. More than fits into anything casual. And instead of dealing with that like a normal person, I tried to shut it down. I know I don’t deserve another chance Trinity, but I-,” her voice broke as a tear ran down her cheek, “I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.”
They stood there, the space between them charged and fragile all at once.
“You hurt me,” Trinity said finally.
“I know.”
“Properly.”
“I know,” Yolanda repeated, softer.
“And I don’t trust you not to do it again.”
That one lingered and Yolanda didn’t rush to fill the silence this time.“I can’t promise I won’t ever mess up,” she said eventually, honest in a way that felt almost unfamiliar, “but I can promise I won’t run. Not like that. Not again.”
Trinity searched her face, like she was trying to find the flaw in it, the weak point, the place where it would all unravel. She couldn't find anything, but the thought of letting it all go and going back to the way they were, scared her beyond measure.
Trinity studied her for another second. A memory popped into her head, she’d been barely six, a little after her birthday, she remembered, just when the autunm had started to cool down into winter. Mom had signed her up for gymnastics the year prior and it had soon become her life. On that day, she was going to compete in her first national competition, and though Trinity had been young, she’d been old enough to forever remember the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. An older girl had found her, she had seemed so grown up in Trinity’s little mind, but looking back, she couldn’t have been older than twelve or thirteen. She had sat Trinity down, handed her the silver medal she’d just won to play with and rubbed her back until Trinity had stopped hiccuping in fear. She hadn’t been nervous because of the competition, but rather because of what usually came after. The disappointment, not Mom’s, but hers, because she’d dared to hope, one more medal might change things. Might make her mother love her.
The girl had held her close and whispered. “It’s okay to be scared,” she’d said, “because fear is powerful. It’s a weapon people can use against you, use it to stop you achieving your dreams, but it’s also one you can use against them too, you can fight through your fear, show them that it can’t hold you behind, and win the medal anyway.”
Trinity had won gold that afternoon, she still remembered it like it was yesterday. Now, she heard those words echoing in her brain. Yolanda was worth it, despite how she had treated Trinity, she was worth more than any medal in the world, and she couldn’t let fear stop her from winning.
“Fine,” she said at last.
Yolanda blinked in sudden surprise, “fine?”
“Fine,” Trinity repeated, firmer now, “we’ll try again.”
Something shifted in Yolanda’s expression, hope, but contained.
“But,” Trinity added quickly, holding up a hand, “ we go slow. And if you disappear on me again, if you pull anything even remotely like that-”
“I won’t.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Trinity held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded once, sharp and decisive,“okay.”
The ship lurched again, harder this time, the storm making its presence fully known now, as the wooden slats of the floor danced like keys on the piano and pushed them right into each other. “This is the bit where you kiss the girl,” Trinity whispered, staring up at Yolanda, her warm wet arms cradling her close.
“Sorry, it’s just, wow I feel like I’m the king of the world right now,” Yolanda murmured back, her hot breath dusting Trinity’s nose with how close they were.
“Wrong movie,” Trinity joked, but before Yolanda could respond, she tipped her head up and pressed their lips together, in a kiss that said I forgive you and I’m sorry all at the same time.