Page 16 of Trusting Trey
I heard the wail of an ambulance in the distance and a tear leaked out my left eye. “I guess so, but I’m scared, Trey.”
He put his hand over mine and nodded. “I know you are, and so am I. We’ll get through this together. I have to stand up now and wave my flashlight so the ambulance medics can come help you. I’ll call your family and meet you at the ER, okay?”
I grasped his hand as hard as I could. “Don’t leave me here alone.”
He bent back down and shook his head. “I’m not leaving you, beautiful. I’m going to get you to the hospital so we can make you feel better.”
I let go of his hand and he stood tall, his arms waving the flashlight toward the direction of the strobe lights on the ambulance. He moved his arms back and forth, crossing at the top, as though he was helping to land the plane that had flown over me a few moments ago. I could hear brush breaking as several footprints trampled over it.
“She’s over here,” I heard him say. “She’s hurt, badly.”
An orange box was set next to my head and a collar went around my neck. “Hi, Allison, my name is John and I’m an EMT. We’re going to get you to the hospital. We have to roll you onto this board, okay?”
I looked at Trey who was kneeling by me in the grass. “I’m going to help them,” he explained. “I don’t want you to do anything, but lay there. John and I will roll you toward us and EMT Phil will slip the board under you, okay?”
I couldn’t nod in the cervical collar, so I whispered okay and bit my lip, steeling myself for the pain. I heard them count to three and two sets of hands pulled me forward carefully. It didn’t matter, the pain shot through me white hot and it felt like I was on fire. I screamed, my voice echoing in the night and only when I couldn’t catch my breath did the pain fade and oblivion take me.
Christmas Morning
Present Day
A bright light came on and Trey had my shoulders, shaking me. “Allison!” he called loudly. “Allison, you’re home with me now. Listen to my voice.”
I was shaking and felt bile rising in my throat. I lunged to the sink and vomited, my earlier bout having emptied my stomach and all I could do was dry heave. My whole body trembled and my back hurt, even though I knew it was just a memory. He handed me a glass of water so I could rinse my mouth and then he pulled me into him, crushing me to his chest.
“I think you fell asleep before you did the test,” he said, trying to cover his concern with humor.
“I—I was thinking about our first date,” I said softly.
“I could tell, honey. I remember how scared we were that night as I held your hand and listened to what the doctors had to say about your back and legs. I remember yourma’stears andBaba’sanger. Mostly, I remember how I wished I could take all your pain away by snapping my fingers. I wished I could make you a brace that would make you feel whole again, but I knew I couldn’t. It was my first introduction to helplessness.”
“But not your last,” I said sarcastically and he held me out to look in my eyes.
“You’re not helpless, Allie, not by a long shot. You’ve got more spring in your step than most people because you remember what it’s like not to be able to take a step. Do you know what Van said when he found out about your accident?”
I shook my head and looked down at the floor. “I didn’t know he knew.”
Trey lifted my chin with his finger. “That’s my fault. Sugar asked when we were going to try for a baby and I told her we were waiting to see the neurologist. I figured she had already told him.”
“I thought she had, too, not that I’m trying to keep it a secret anymore. What did he say?” I asked, curiosity winning out.
“He said he would never guess you spent a good part of your adult life unable to walk, or dance. He said you’re always a fireball of energy every time he sees you.”
I laughed a little and rested my forehead on his shoulder. “I don’t feel like a fireball right now. I need some sleep.”
He rubbed my back and let me lean on him the same way he always has. “Do you remember what happened that first day I came to your room after your back surgery?”
I sighed, his arms making it safe to remember that time when answers were nowhere to be found, and pain prevented me from looking for them.
October 12
13 Years Prior
The sun hadn’t broken through the darkness yet, when a knock on the door disturbed the silence of my hospital room. Having been there for two weeks already, the constant interruptions to my sleep were common.
“Come in,” I called, the sleepiness evident in my voice. I looked at the clock and was surprised to see it was nearly seven a.m. I had slept quite well and the pain hadn’t woken me during the night. Maybe the back surgery did more good than I thought.
The door opened and the light from the hallway filled a strip of the floor with light. A familiar figure came through and then closed the door again, shutting out the noise of the nurses in the hallways.
