Trish

I met Trish when I was 17 years old. She and my Cousin Kerry had met on a phone chat line. Phone chat lines were as popular then as dating apps are now. The only difference was people began speaking to one another immediately without the benefit of seeing each other first. I believe that this helped to create genuine interest in one another because all you had was the other person’s thought matter. This was the case with Trish and Kerry. They were pretty much inseparable from the start. I don’t remember how long it was before they got married though. It just feels like they have always been. I never really knew a lot about Trish. All I knew is she had always been really nice to me, and she seemed extremely down to Earth. But everything I ever needed to know about Trish I discovered during one visit to their home. While at their home, Kerry was trying to demonstrate to me how he taught his parakeet to say, “Go get my beer bitch!” On this particular day the bird was feeling a little shy. He tried to coax the animal for 5 minutes, but it wouldn’t comply. I was beginning to not believe that Kerry had been able to train the bird to speak like its master.

It wasn’t long before Kerry began to really crave a beer. He turned to Trish, and with finger pointed shouted, “go get my beer bitch!” I was equal parts stunned and horrified. I looked over at Trish with pity as she slowly made her way to the fridge. She opened the door, hunching over to retrieve the alcoholic beverage from the bottom rack. It looked as if bending over caused her an appreciable amount of pain. After closing the refrigerator door, Trish turned to face Kerry and appeared to brace herself for the walk back to her husband. Her movements appeared to be labored, but she kept a steady pace; eventually stopping 6 inches from her husband’s shoulder. She handed Kerry the beer, and made her way to the coffee table. She leaned over, and then handed him the remote before returning to her seat. There, she calmly awaited his next command. “You better had”, Kerry barked at her. “I should make you clean my shoes.” Trish didn’t reply. She just lovingly sat there, attentive to his needs. I only heard obscenities from my cousin Kerry. But Trish looked at him as if he were reciting a poetry only her heart could decipher. At that point I wanted to say something, but from my youth Kerry loomed over me as a larger than life figure. I instinctively knew it wasn’t my place to speak on how he kept his home. So, I remained silent. It was one of the most awkward 1.4 minutes of my life. Once Kerry was done with his beer, he gestured for Trish to discard the can. He almost seemed almost annoyed that she hadn’t been standing next to him in anticipation of his inevitable need. With a smile on her face and a gleam in her eye she took the can from Kerry and made her way back to the kitchen again. I could hear the faucet cut on for a brief moment, then cutting off just as quickly. I assumed she was rinsing out the can to avoid any leftover odor. Kerry began another conversation about his job, porn, or something in between. Whatever he was talking about, it distracted both of us long enough for Trish to sneak behind Kerry and spring her attack.

With a lightening quick lunge, she grabbed the back of Kerry's shirt, opened it, and proceeded to poor hot water (from his newly discard beer can) down his newly unguarded back. Writhing in pain, Kerry leapt to his feet, thrown off balance due to the artificially induced curvature of his spine. Before he could scream from the shock, she unleashed a vicious 1-2 combo; first stomping his bare big right toe, and then throwing a reverse back-knuckle nutt-buster to his unprotected groin area. This made me instinctually protect my own junk. She flashed a devilish grin as she briefly admired the havoc she had wrought upon my defenseless cousin. Then she grabbed him and screamed, “who’s the bitch now?!”, before sinking her teeth into his right arm. “Get off me you....”, but before he could finish his demand she bit him harder, as if she were trying to draw blood. In as high a pitched voice as I’ve ever heard come out of my cousin he screamed, “Alright alright! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I take it back! I take it all back!” She let go his arm and walked back to the sofa, but not before cutting him an ‘if looks could cut balls off' stare; punctuated with a punch to the now bruised right arm. All I could do was cover my mouth in pure disbelief. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. But then I slowly realized something; my cousin Kerry was laughing. He had been laughing the entire time. He was having the time of his life. She yelled at him, “it’s not funny”, and threw a magazine at him. She tried, but she could not suppress her smile for long.

As they laughed hysterically, I looked at both of those crazy people and realized I was the only one not in on the joke. Thinking back it occurred to me, while Kerry was drinking the beer he was expecting Trish to stand next to him, apparently awaiting her attack. When it never came he assumed she was being ‘cute for company’, opting to refrain from her normal response on account of my presence. But this had not been the case. Trish was 5 steps ahead of Kerry. She had no intention on not living her truth. And there it was; my cousin, for all of his youthful exploits and conquest, had finally found his equal. No had found his better. I don’t never visit them very often. Especially due to COVID-19. But I have always admired how Trish has raised her family. I am extremely grateful for her taking care of my crazy cousin after all these years I love you Trish.