Page 17 of Trusting Trey
“Hello, beautiful,” Trey said, sitting a bucket down by my bed. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.
It had become habit for him to stop in before and after work to check on me, sending my parents home for dinner or to the restaurant for a break. He would sit with me content to watch TV or more often, he’d read to me from the latest fluff novel he’d retrieved from my home mail. Once the swelling went down from where the bumper of the car hit me straight across the back, an MRI showed a fracture of my lower vertebra at L3 and contusion to my spinal cord. Almost a week ago, I had surgery on the vertebra and they decompressed my spinal cord. When I woke from surgery, I hyperventilated because I could feel my legs again. The anesthesia hadn’t worn off, but the doctors were buoyed by my reaction immediately after surgery. The sensations in my legs were spotty, but every day brought another part of the thigh or calf back to life. The doctors were encouraged and assured me that, with time, I would start to feel more of my legs. Eventually they felt I would walk again, though I was too scared to believe that. I had already resigned myself to life in a wheelchair and I didn’t want my hopes dashed if I never got out of it. Every morning I thanked God for His grace in letting me stay part of this world. I don’t need my legs to do what I want in life, at least that’s what I told myself.
I turned my head and smiled at him, my voice soft and tired. “I feel good today, but then I’ve only been awake for a few minutes.”
He sat on the edge of my mattress and held my hand, his eyes holding mine as though he was reading my inner thoughts and all the things I wasn’t telling him.
“I think I slept through the night, which is good, right?” I asked him. “Maybe that means my pain is lessening.”
He kissed my hand. “I sure hope so, sweetheart. I can’t stand to see you in pain like you were. I’m hopeful that you’ve turned the corner. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
I looked at him questioningly. “I don’t understand what that means.”
He pointed at the bucket. “I’ve been commissioned to sculpt you. I’ll start with plaster of Paris and when I’m done, I’ll have a polymer sculpture of all your curves,” he said, running his hands as though I was a curvy woman, which I’m not.
“You’re making me a back brace?” I asked, and he touched my nose.
“Bingo. Dr. Fatma contacted us that you’re going to be sprung from this joint in the next few days. He wants you in a brace and seen by physical therapy before that happens. I figure you’ll be out of here by the weekend.”
I gulped and nodded at the same time, the tears flowing down my cheeks. He wiped them away with a tissue and looked at me quizzically.
“Whoa, I thought you would be happy about going home,” he whispered, hugging me carefully around the shoulders without pulling me forward.
“I don’t have a home to go to, Trey,” I cried. “My sorority house is all stairs and so isBaba’shouse. I’m going to have to go to a rehab center and I’ll be alone. I’m scared,” I admitted, tears still falling from my eyes.
“You don’t have to be scared, shhhhh,” he soothed, wiping my tears as fast as they fell. “I’ve talked to yourbabaabout what options we have and you’re right, while they could put a bed in the main room for you, the bathroom is upstairs, and that’s not going to work. Your parents and I decided my house would be the best place for you to recover, if you want to, that is.”
My eyes widened and I brought one hand to my forehead, resting it there to try and block out the world. “I can’t move in with you Trey; we don’t know each other that well.”
He moved the chair closer to my bed and sat, resting his head on my belly, carefully. “I know we don’t, but if nothing else, we’re friends, right?” he asked, taking my hand. I nodded and bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “Friends help friends. That’s what you do. Yourmais going to stay with you during the day at my place, where everything is on one floor, andBabawill be taking care of the business. When I get home from work, yourmawill leave and I’ll be there with you for the evening. I can have a hospital bed delivered today if you decide you want to stay with me, but don’t worry, you’ll have a room to yourself.Macan help you bathe and clean up when I’m gone during the day and we can hang out in the evenings like we’ve been doing. Okay?”
I reached my hand out and ran it down his face, his skin smooth like a baby. He reached up and captured my hand, holding it to his face as though it were a lifeline thrown to him as he drowned.
“I want to be honest with you, Trey,” I said and he turned his head and kissed my palm. “We are friends, but I had hoped we would be more than friends. Now that this has happened, I know we can’t be. I think I should go to a rehab center so I don’t fall anymore in love with you than I already have. We can be friends, but we can never be more than friends. I can’t lay my problems at your feet and expect you to pick them up and carry them.”
He lifted his head from my belly and stood, leaning forward until our lips were almost touching. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t want to at the same time. Every touch, every caress, every kiss from him would only serve to make it harder to forget him and move on in this world without him. His eyes were riveted to mine, and I knew he saw all the way to my shattered soul. A smile crossed his face and then his lips were on mine, his intentions obvious as he kissed me into silence and submission.
I carefully raised my right arm and put it around his neck, whimpering and sighing. I opened my lips a hairsbreadth and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue inside to probe the far reaches of my sweetness. I pushed back with my own tongue and he moaned soft and long. His moan was like a trigger inside me that reminded me how much I wanted things to be different, but they weren’t, and I had to end this. The tears started to fall again and I pushed him away, wiping my lips at the same time I wiped my eyes.
He stood there, his breath coming in puffs as he reached out and wiped my tear, cupping my cheek. “You’re crying because you feel the same thing I do when we kiss, but you don’t think you deserve to have that kind of passion in your life. Well, guess what? You’re wrong. You deserve every bit of passion and love I can shower on you.”
I wiped another tear from my eye with my shoulder then motioned at my legs. “I may never walk again, Trey. You can’t tell me that you want to spend your life with a woman in a wheelchair. You’re young and virile. You like cross-country skiing and summer hiking. You like ballroom dancing and walking around Canal Park. I can’t do any of those things now.”
He rubbed his thumb over my cheek and shook his head a little. “You think I care about any of that? Don’t you understand that in a heartbeat, I would drop everything to be with you? It’s true, I love cross-country skiing, but I would be just as happy pulling you in a sled across the trail. I love summer hiking, but we live near multiple state parks that have paved hiking trails, I can push you in your wheelchair and we can explore the beauty that surrounds us. I love ballroom dancing, but I would be happy putting on a soft, slow song and holding you in my arms even if I’m the only one whose feet hit the floor. We can still visit Canal Park, and I can push your chair, or we can rent one of those bikes they have. I’ll pedal while you enjoy the view. I’ve learned something over the last two weeks,” he finished and I looked up at him, my eyes finally able to hold his.
“What did you learn?” I asked, hoping he would say that he can’t be with me, but I didn’t think he would.
“I learned that I’m as happy to stay home and read a book with you as I am to be out running around. I’m happy to rub your arm and distract you from the pain because you’ve taught me how life can change in an instant. I’m happier and I live each day to the fullest now, always ending it with you, because I need you to hold my hand as much as you need me to hold yours.”
I held his eyes and could see he believed what he was saying, but all I could think of was that he had convinced himself of it without thinking past the next few months.
“Trey, you do understand that being in a wheelchair for the rest of my life is going to complicate matters, right?”
He smiled and pushed a piece of hair off my forehead. “Can I ask you one question?” I nodded and he smiled. “Are you going to fight?”
“Fight? Like yelling at each other? I know the Greeks are famous for that, but I don’t like to fight.”
He shook his head and chuckled softly. “No, sweetheart, I mean are you going to fight against what or whoever did this to you and try to walk again?”
