Chapter Text
In Trina’s recurring nightmare, she’s submerged in a dark body of water looking at Spencer's lifeless floating body. She’s sure that if she can get to him, she can somehow bring him back to life. Trina knows her love-filled kiss will jolt Spencer’s heart and restore his breath, just like sleeping beauty. Except, in this version, it would be the princess who awakens her prince from his death-like slumber. Spencer would smile as he returned a passionate underwater kiss. He’d then take her hand and they’d both swim to shore, like magical merpeople.
But the water is viscous and difficult for Trina to swim through. She could never make it in time. The closer she moves; the further away Spencer appears.
The nightmare always ends with Trina seeing Spencer sink deeper into the depths until he’s completely out of her sight, swallowed by the infinite darkness.
When she last woke up from this nightmare, she felt a mixture of shock, intense sadness, and rage. She wanted to scream but couldn’t muster the strength.
Instead, she would lay in her bed frozen, as tears streamed down the sides of her face.
Why couldn't she be wherever Spencer was now, hand in hand for eternity?
But here it was, another bright new day. The sun shone so beautifully through the pink curtains. Her heart was bleeding, and she required a bleak heavy storm to accompany it. The sun’s radiance made her despise the indifference of nature to the human condition, or at least to her condition.
" Again?!" Trina thought to herself.
She had to live another day without Spencer, again?!
Trina heaved a sigh, rolled over, and reached for her phone on the nightstand.
Trina used to love mornings. She'd text Spencer first thing, do light exercise, journal, and head out to seize the day. But Spencer’s death has changed everything. Her usual clear and rosy glasses were now broken and grey. Each morning held the realization that Spencer was gone, and she began to dread them.
His absence felt starkest when her phone failed to ping with his daily declaration of love. Every day Spencer would tell Trina how beautiful and brilliant he thought she was, and how lucky he was to have her in his life. He indeed is, sorry, was crazy in love with her. Trina hasn’t fully accepted speaking about Spencer in the past tense.
With her phone already in hand, Trina relistens to all of Spencer's old voicemails, rereads all his old texts, studies pictures of them together, and looks at all the online photos of him on his social media accounts. Online, Spencer was still alive. His digital accounts became her shrine. She’d visit and leave the offerings of her heart.
Yesterday, Trina typed a direct message to Spencer and almost hit ‘send’. For a second, she thought that wherever Spencer was, he'd see it and reply. He always replied.
Trina was aware that she was slipping away, feeling farther from Spencer and farther from herself. She also felt as if she had little to no control over the matter. The grief was too heavy to carry, so she let herself sink into it.
In the days after Spencer’s memorial, Trina tried to keep herself busy and distracted, stopping by Ava’s gallery to help set up the latest art installment. But then she’d see a painting of a loving couple, or two doves perched together, and all the memories of that fateful night in Paris would come rushing in. Her chest would tighten, and her heartbeat would race so fast that she thought it would escape her chest. She ended up dropping and damaging an important portrait in the series.
Ava said it was ok, but underneath she felt unsteady and a little embarrassed. She’d hung so many paintings before, why was it so difficult to do now?
Each day started to feel more challenging than the last. She soon struggled to get out of bed. When she mustered up enough strength to shower and dress for the day, she did so for the sake of her mother and Curtis.
Everyone usually left the house around the same time in the morning. After Trina was dressed, she’d head downstairs, and greet Portia and Curtis with a strained smile.Trina would casually comment about the errands she’d run or the meetups she scheduled with Joss or other friends from PCU.
As soon as Trina was sure that her mom and Curtis were far enough away from the house, she would make a U-turn, and head back home. She’d climb up the stairs, re-enter her room, and retreat to her bed.
The bed was the only thing that could hold her body and the full weight of her grief. It didn’t question her actions or ask her to perform normalcy. It just sat there silently and comfortably supported her.
Aside from the nightmare, Trina liked to dream. It was the only way she could see Spencer again. It was in her dreams that she could hear his voice, listen to his laugh, touch his face, kiss his lips, and make passionate love to him.
If she could no longer be with him in her waking life, she would be with him in her dreamscape. It was nice that it was always just her and Spencer.
There were no interruptions from Esme, Ace, Portia, Joss, or other people demanding their attention. They could focus on each other. But the sweeter the dream, the harsher the thud when she eventually woke up.
Trina’s mind often spiraled with whys and what-ifs. Why did she tell Spencer about the Sorbonne? Why did she ask him to come with her to Paris? What if she had deferred her attendance? Why did she tell Esme about it? How did she fail to predict Esme’s revenge?
Each time she thought about this Trina felt pangs of guilt, even though she logically knew that the cause of Spencer’s death was Esme’s attack.
“Damn it, Spencer! Why did you have to be a hero and save me? Whatever might have happened to us after being drugged, at least we would’ve been together?”
For a moment, she chuckled, remembering how fiercely protective Spencer had always been of her. It all happened so quickly on deck. How could she have expected Spencer to have done anything differently? He was stubborn to the core, even when he was barely conscious.
Last Saturday afternoon, Portia was on her way to the hospital. It was her day off, but she wanted to drop off some signed paperwork.
A seemingly cheery Trina had come downstairs and said she was on her way to meet Joss at Bobbie's. Portia was happy to hear that Trina was getting out of the house to spend time with her best friend.
They both left the house together. Portia got in her car and pulled out of the driveway way first, while Trina waved as she opened her car door to get in.
Portia hadn't gotten far from the house when she realized that she'd forgotten a folder filled with some of the important hospital paperwork. She turned the car around and drove back.
As Portia got closer to the driveway, she noticed that Trina’s car was still there in the same spot. With a glance, she sees her daughter opening the front door and heading back inside. She had a strange feeling.
Portia waited for 10 minutes to see if Trina would return and get in her car to head back out. Maybe she’d forgotten something too. Portia grew nervous, giving Trina an extra 10 minutes to come back. 20 minutes had passed, and still, Trina hadn’t returned.
Portia was now in a state of panic. Her first instinct was to run upstairs and knock on Trina’s door to see if she was okay. But she remembered Curtis advising her to be patient and extra gentle with Trina. “She’s fragile right now, so be delicate”, he’d said.
Portia decided to park her car on the sidewalk for now and quietly entered the house. She texted Trina to ask her if she’d met with Joss yet.
Portia just needed an immediate response from her daughter, a sign that Trina was conscious and not intending to harm herself.
Portia was hoping that Trina would tell the truth, and say she’d decided to stay home.
Instead, Trina texted “I’m walking up to Bobbie’s right now, just spotted Joss!”
It disturbed her that Trina felt the need to mask her whereabouts.
Questions about her mothering and parenting mistakes raced through Portia’s head. Until the paternity lies came to the fore, she thought of herself as the perfect mother. Yes, she could be delusional, aloof or narcissistic. But as flawed as she was, Portia loved her daughter more than life itself.
She called Curtis. He said he'd be on his way from the Savoy right away. Portia then looked up the hospital employee directory and reached out to Kevin.
He advised Portia to keep texting Trina periodically, and if there was no answer for more than 10 minutes to approach her room. If Trina failed to respond to Portia knocking on the door, Kevin advised her to open it and knock it down if she had to.
Portia confirmed that Trina had no history of self-harm and had never expressed suicidal thoughts. Based on this information Kevin believed there to be no cause for alarm.
“It sounds like Trina is emotionally exhausted, maybe even depressed. However, we would need to perform a psychological evaluation to determine any diagnosis.”
Trina remained in her room with the curtains closed to block out the sun. As a child, she had been afraid of the dark, but now it didn't seem so bad. It was becoming a familiar friend. Sometimes she liked it pitch black where she couldn't make out shapes or objects, where she couldn't see her hands in front of her face. It was like being back in the primordial womb, nothing but space. She thought to herself,
"In this boundless feeling of space is there even an 'I' or a 'me'? Should there be an 'I' or a 'me' without him? After all, I’m part of the reason Spencer’s gone.”
As soon as she completed that thought, she felt something like an invisible hand tap her firmly on the shoulder. It shocked her out of her thoughts. Could it be Spencer? Could he be trying to communicate with her?
She felt a burst of joy and then an overwhelming wave of sadness when she realized a sign from the other side meant that Spencer was dead.
Trina cried so often, that she no longer noticed when it was happening until she felt the soaked collar of her shirt.
She heard Curtis’ chair enter the home. Trina pulled away the curtain to peep out of the window. She notices Portia's parked car back in the driveway.
“When did Mom get home?”, she whispers to herself.
As soon as Trina begins to pull the curtains together, she notices Ava’s car pulling into the driveway.
She runs downstairs to find Portia, Ava, and Curtis sitting across from each other, all their faces appear solemn.
Happy to see Ava, Trina runs into her arms with tears streaming down her face.
Ava holds and rocks her as if she were a baby. In Ava's heart, Trina is a bonus daughter.
As Trina sobs, Ava begins to whisper, "Spencer would want you to live, darling. He would want you to want to live, too! Spencer always wanted to see you alive and well, even if he couldn’t be with you. He told me so, many times, long before you were a couple"
Portia looked on. She was relieved to see Trina out of her room but hurt that her daughter wasn't the first person she ran to for comfort. In order to build a stronger bond with Trina, Portia concluded that she would have to allow herself to get to know the adult Trina, and now the possibly depressed Trina.
Curtis brought in some tea as all four of them sat on the couch.
With a gravely concerned expression, he says, "Trina, I know we will never know the exact pain you’re feeling about losing Spencer. But honey, let us support you. You never have to hide your true feelings from us. We're sorry for making you feel like you do."
"I know," Trina says shakily.
It's a little white lie. She didn't know and hiding how low her grief made her feel seemed like the only option. Trina thinks she’ll likely end up testing Curtis' sentiment for truth at a later time.
As Trina continues to move between sobbing and stillness, another feeling begins to emerge and mixes with her grief. It’s the hollow feeling of abandonment, not only from Spencer’s death but from Taggert's absence.
Before she can process it, the little girl inside screams out loud.
"I want my Daddy! I need my Daddy! I miss my Daddy!"
Portia’s in tears and quietly excuses herself to use the bathroom. She immediately dials Taggert. There's no response. Portia leaves a frenzied voicemail about Trina’s mental health and litters it with a litany of tearful apologies. She decides to send him a text relaying the same message.
As Portia returns to the living room, there's a knock on the door. It's Kevin.
He greets Trina with a warm smile and compassionate eyes. Kevin says that Laura sends her love along with baby kisses from Ace.
Trina gives him a brief smile.
Then she determines that this is some sort of intervention.
Why can't you all just let me be? she thinks.
But Trina hasn't noticed that she's repeated her thoughts out loud until she feels everyone’s eyes on her.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I try never to say mean things.”
Kevin intervenes," An apology isn't necessary, Trina. We encourage you to feel all your feelings. It's important for your grieving process. It's needed to begin to heal. You've experienced a lot of trauma over the past couple of years, more than most people experience in a lifetime. I know I speak for everyone when I say that we are all happy that you're still here with us.”
He continues, “If you'll agree to it, I think it would be good to try grief counseling. I can recommend a therapist who I believe will work well for you. Everyone needs help, Trina. You’re not the only one. A lot of people in Port Charles could stand to benefit from therapy too. Those who pursue therapy often benefit from exploring their emotions, heart, and mental wellness. What do you say?”
Trina listens to Kevin intently.
A little voice that sounds very much like Spencer's encourages her to say 'yes'.
So, she does.
" Yes. OK, I'll give the grief counseling and therapy a try.”
Portia, Curtis, and Ava look on in relief.
Kevin mentions that there’s a session available with Dr. Winters tomorrow.
Trina nods and accepts.
Just then, a framed picture of Curtis' mom, Irene, falls from the mantlepiece. She’s wearing a big smile in the photo.
Trina walks over to pick it up and feels a familiar gentle tap on her shoulder.