Be My Baby (32 page)

There was a nurse in the room talking to Dad
when we got there and someone else in a suit was with them. They
had Trey's chart in front of them reviewing it.

"Tylar, can I see you in the hall for a
moment?"

"Sure, Dad."

We stepped out in the hallway. Dad
immediately took Preston from me.

"Sweetheart, I hope you don't think I am
stepping on your toes but it grieves me to see the way you spend
24/7 here at this hospital, hundreds of miles away from your family
- your support system. I enlisted the help of Trey's nurse to
contact someone from hospital administration to see if Trey could
safely be transported back to a hospital in the Atlanta area to
convalesce. They can transport him on Tuesday and have referred him
to a neurologist in Atlanta."

"Oh, Dad - thank you! I didn't even think
about making that inquiry. I seem to be taking things hour by hour
these days."

"That's only natural, Tylar. That's all you
had to work with for the first few days you were here but he is
stabilized so his physical therapy can be administered just as
easily in Atlanta."

I was so grateful for my dad's intervention.
I guess that was something else that fathers did. I hugged my
father tightly to me. He was my rock as well.

Trey was transferred to St. Matthews as
scheduled the following Tuesday. Tristan, Clive and Susan were all
waiting as the private medical helicopter arrived with Trey and me.
He was settled into to a private room in the short-term rehab unit.
It was just ten days ago that Karen Deeny's vehicle had careened
into our lives wreaking turmoil. I was thankful for each day Trey
was here because I knew he would get stronger. I felt less stressed
now that he was back in Atlanta. I needed family. My father had
been right. I would call Dad later to let him know everything went
as planned once I was sure that Trey was stable in his new
surroundings.

The physical therapist came into the room
later that evening at everyone else had gone home. I was leaning
over Trey, carefully shaving his face. I had been vigilant about
that when we were in Nashville. His bruises had started to fade;
his stitches were dissolving as his lacerations healed. I was
talking to Trey as I shaved. I always did that to keep him up to
date on what was going on. I hadn't heard anyone come into the
room.

I heard a male voice clear his throat
somewhere behind me. It startled me; I jumped and nicked Trey's
face.

"Holy shit! Now I've slashed my husband's
face thank you very much," I muttered, grabbing a tissue from the
box and pressing it up against the tiny little knick.

"I hardly think you could call that a slash,
Mrs. Sinclair; I apologize for startling you like that."

I looked at the man standing at the foot of
Trey's bed. He was in light blue scrubs and had Trey's chart in his
hands. He was extremely handsome; tall and muscular, with thick
wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He didn't look like he
was more than thirty years old. His eyes couldn't hide the
amusement he got from my over-reaction on the tiny knick.

"I'm Dr. Phillip Grayson, Mrs. Sinclair. I
will be writing the physical therapy treatment plan for your
husband."

I wiped the shaving cream off of Trey's face
with a towel; and pressed a small piece of tissue to the knick. I
stood up and went over to where Dr. Grayson was standing. He smiled
holding his hand out to shake mine. I took his hand noticing that
it was warm and strong; like Trey's.

"Do you have a few minutes to answer some
preliminary questions that will aid in my developing his P-T
plan?"

"Of course," I replied, walking over to the
window and adjusting the blinds to allow more light into the
room.

Dr. Grayson asked me questions about Trey's
physical fitness and workout habits prior to the accident. He
examined him briefly, commenting on his good muscle tone.

"Isn't it kind of early to start physical
therapy when he's still in a coma, Dr. Grayson?"

"You'd be surprised at how quickly the
muscles can atrophy, Mrs. Sinclair, especially with someone that
works out as stringently as it appears your husband has been doing.
He won't be a happy camper if we let that happen to him," he gave
me a smile and a wink. I felt my face flush.

I appreciated the fact that this doctor out
of all of the ones I had talked to over the past week was the first
to allude to the fact that Trey was going to wake up. This doctor
didn't want Trey to be pissed when he did. I liked that.

Dr. Grayson gave me his card if I had any
questions. He told me Trey's therapy would start the following day.
There would be three 15-minute sessions to introduce and reinforce
stimuli for his breathing and physical movement abilities. He said
it was important to prevent pneumonia or other infections while
Trey remained in a temporary vegetative state.

Dr. Grayson answered some of my questions
and put me totally at ease that nothing they used to stimulate Trey
could adversely affect his coma; on the contrary he said that
patient's response to the various stimuli serves to bring them out
of the vegetative state. I felt optimistic.

He was just finishing up with our discussion
when Gina breezed through the door. Dr. Grayson shook my hand again
and departed. I shoved his card into my pocket.

"Whoa, who was
that
?" she said coming
over to me and giving me a hug.

"That was Dr. Grayson; he is the head of
Physical Therapy for vegetative patients here, apparently."

"Clearly not hard on the eyes either," Gina
replied.

"Shhh -" I hissed at her, nodding my head
towards Trey.

I motioned for her to follow me out into the
hallway so that we could talk.

"Gina - you have to watch what you say when
you're around Trey," I warned her.

"Ty, I was only making light of it. I didn't
mean anything by it."

"I know, Gina; but suppose Trey heard that?
You know how he is about stuff like that. All that is going to do
is piss him off and possibly hinder his recovery."

"Gee, girlfriend - I didn't think about
that. I'll watch what I say, I promise."

"Okay, then," I said, hugging her.

Gina spent the next hour with me catching me
up on all the things that Preston had been up while I had been on
vacation and then in Nashville. She said Susan had been a godsend
through all of this.

"Ty, do you want to stay at the apartment
with us? It's closer to the hospital?"

"Actually Gina, I want to get back home with
Preston and Jean. I have to put some normalcy back into Preston's
life. You know she wouldn't kiss Trey when Dad brought her to
Nashville over the weekend."

"She's just a toddler. She doesn't
understand."

"I know that; but I need to talk to her and
reinforce that her daddy will be okay. I don't want her to forget
how he was before all of this happened."

"It's just been a little over two weeks
since she saw Trey. I don't think she will forget him that
quickly."

Gina and I picked up Preston; she drove me
out to our house; Susan was staying with Trey tonight; Clive was
staying the following night. Tristan had insisted that the four of
us all take turns. I knew that he was worried about me. I knew that
they all were worried.

I told Gina I would see her the following
day when I drove into Atlanta to see Trey. She told me to drop
Preston off and she would keep her.

I got Preston settled into her own bed for
the night. Jean stopped me in the hallway for an update. I had
talked to her on the phone almost every day since this had all
happened. She was like a 'mom' to me.

When I went into our suite I saw that Jean
had put everything back in order. All of the ripped up clothing had
been removed. There were stacks of new jeans, sweaters and tops
folded on my bed. I wasn't sure if Jean or Gina was responsible; I
was just grateful that someone had done this act of kindness for
me. I didn't sleep well at all. I didn't like being in our bed
without Trey. I cried softly into my pillow.

It was Christmas Eve. I almost wished it
would snow though that is fairly uncommon for Atlanta. I was
standing in Trey's hospital room looking out of the window at the
cold, chilly rain that was pelting against the glass. It wasn't
nearly cold enough for snow. It was just plain dreary. It didn't
seem like Christmas.

Trey's parents had left the day before for
California to visit Nigel and Tess until after the New Year;
Preston was over at Tristan and Gina's anxiously awaiting Santa
Claus. I was here with Trey who had still not come out of his damn
coma. I was getting pissed. Why the hell wasn't he fighting this?
Enough was enough I thought to myself.

I had gone off on a couple of the physical
therapists earlier in the day. I had overheard one of them whisper
to the other that Trey needed to be moved to a nursing home due to
his 'prolonged' vegetative state in order to free up this bed for a
patient that had more chance of recovering.

I had ordered both of them none too quietly
to get the fuck out of Trey's room; I told them they didn't know
'shit from shinola' and then threatened to report them to Dr.
Grayson. They had skittered out of there looking at me as if I was
some crazed bitch as I chased after them.

Later I had told Gina I was spending the
night at the hospital. Trey was not going to be alone on Christmas.
She and I had even argued. She said my priority should be Preston
on Christmas. I had told her to mind her own fucking business; I
would be the one to set my own priorities. Tristan had finally told
us both to shut up because the babies were getting upset.

I had bought a small little artificial
Christmas tree to set on the table next to Trey's bed. Susan had
brought some of the ornaments from Bristol for our tree at home but
I hadn't put one up this year. We were never there. Preston was at
Gina's most of the time; I was here with Trey.

I grabbed the remote for the television in
his room and put some Christmas music on while I decorated the sad
little Christmas tree next to his bed.

I looked over at him while I decorated; his
bruising was gone; his lacerations had healed nicely. He was
thinner but he still looked gorgeous. His vitals were always good.
What was the problem? It had been almost a month now.

His firm had sent over a lovely Christmas
arrangement and fruit basket. I moved them now to the window ledge
so that I could center the tree properly. I dug into the box of
decorations that Susan had brought. I pulled out the little
Christmas angel that Trey had made in the second grade; the one
that had been made out of a tampon. I recalled when I had first
seen it our Christmas together in Bristol.

I sat down on his bed and put the angel on
his tree; tears rolled down my face as I looked at it now.

I stretched out on my side next to Trey
facing him.

"Wake up, Trey. Please wake up for me. I
can't do this much longer, baby. I just can't . . ." My sobs came
rushing out; I didn't care. It wasn't as if he could hear me anyway
. . .

_______________________________________________

I can hear Tylar crying but I can't see her,
damn it! I can feel her next to me; I can always tell when she's
near me even if she doesn't say anything. I can sense her nearness;
her moods. I sense her sadness right now and it crushes me. Does
she think that I don't want to see her? I love her with my whole
being whatever that happens to be these days.

Marla is back now with Marley; we have had
several lengthy chats about things. She lets me hold Marley
sometimes but most of the time she does her fading routine when I
ask for the baby. She has my number I think. She knows I want to
take the baby with me. We've talked about the fact that I need to
cross back over. Marla says it is not my time yet. I ask her over
and over again to explain why the hell it was Marley's time. She
says she is not the one with the answers; the one with the answers
has told her I need to cross back. Marley is staying put.
Apparently my mother-in-law doesn't know how stubborn I can be.

Marla is speaking to me now in her soft,
melodic voice; she is telling me to trust her; she is telling me it
is time to go. Wait! I want to kiss Marley one more time. They
fade. I chase after the fading vision. . . I can't reach them.
Damn!

I sat up quickly in
Trey's bed. Had I just imagined that he had moved in his sleep? I
had stopped my crying when I felt him move next to me. I brushed
the wetness from my cheeks with the back of my hand. My nose was
running. I pulled a tissue out and blew my nose. I watched Trey.
There it was again! His arm
had
moved; his face had twitched. His brow was
furrowed as if he was frowning or pissed about something. Who had
made him mad?

I continued to watch him. Nothing more
happened. I had probably imagined it. I finished decorating the
tree and then plugged it in so the miniature twinkle lights
illuminated. The crying jag had helped a little bit. My tension was
relieved. I was done with my 'pity party' for the time being.

I found the remote and switched channels.
One of the satellite channels was running a 1980's movie marathon
all day Christmas Eve. I located it as the next movie was getting
ready to start. It was 'Dirty Dancing'. I loved that movie! Who
wouldn't love anything with Patrick Swayze in it?

I curled up next to Trey,
laying my head on his chest as the opening credits started with the
familiar soundtrack; the muted black and white, slow motion footage
of the various dancers came across the screen with the classic
'60's tune by the Ronettes. . . Oh My God! I remembered when Trey
had told me about that song the night I almost died! I listened as
the lyrics spilled out plain as day.
'The
night we met I knew I needed you so; and if I had the chance I'd
never let you go . . '