Page 18 of Trusting Trey
I felt myself getting angry just thinking about it. “Damn right I am. I’m going to work as hard as I can to regain the use of my legs. Maybe they won’t be perfect, but something is better than nothing. They aren’t going to keep me from living my dreams, even if I have to do it from a chair or on crutches.”
He squeezed my hand and smiled at me. “That’s the Allie everyone tells me is in there. If you’re going to fight, I’m going to be right there with you. Hell, even if you weren’t going to fight, I would be right there with you.” He hung his head and shook it a little.
I rubbed his arm and whispered to him, “I’m sorry that you’re feeling this way. I don’t want to be a burden or weigh you down. That’s what I’m trying to say. Even if I fight with everything I have, it doesn’t mean that my body will respond. I may be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life and that means my life will change forever. No matter what my feelings are for you or how strong those feelings are, I can’t ask you to take care of me for the rest of our lives when we’ve only known each other for three weeks.”
He lifted his head and I saw resolve on his face, his tear filled eyes piercing mine. His left hand grabbed mine on his arm. “You’re not asking me to do anything, Allie. I’m offering, and that’s a big difference. I do braces, prosthesis, paralysis, and wheelchairs for a living. I think that gives me a completely different perspective on life with someone in chair.”
“How so?” I asked, curious to know why he felt that way.
“Patients come to see me when they’re at their most vulnerable. Maybe they’re newly paralyzed, a new amputee or had a change in their condition. When they’re married, or have a significant other, I can look at the partner and see how much they want to trade places. They don’t want the man or woman they love to be in pain or facing challenges and emotions they don’t know how to deal with. All they can do is be there and be committed to a new way of life. It never crossed their minds not to be, because chair or no chair, that other person is their life. They will stop at nothing to make sure their loved one is getting the care and equipment they need. I guess what I’m trying to say is, chair or no chair, you’re still Allison Drakos, a beautiful woman with incredible talents to offer the world through words and knowledge. Even more than that, you are an incredible woman with an incredible life to offer the right man. A man who understands you will face challenges, but he will be right there with you, holding you up, pushing you up, or helping you up the hills in life.”
“And you’re trying to say you’re the right man for that job?” I asked, my heart racing as we talked about a future, which a few weeks ago, I didn’t think I would even have.
“Actually, the question is, do you think I’m the right man? Do you think I can, and will, do all those things, so we can share a life together? Do you believe I have the strength to lift you, carry you, and push you? Do you believe in love at first sight?” His shoulders hunched and he picked up my hand, kissing the back of it.
“Honestly, the thought of saying goodbye to you breaks my heart, but I would do it if this,” I motioned at my legs, “is something you can’t live with. Do I believe in love at first sight? Yes. When I saw you reading Ray Bradbury that day, I fell in love with you instantly.” He laughed and kissed my forehead, his body language less defeated and more hopeful. “Do I believe that young love can overcome something like this? I don’t know. I know you have the strength to do all those things I’m going to need done, but I can’t get past the fact that it’s not fair to you. When we met I could walk, and even though life changes in an instant, not every man will want a partner he has to take care of every day.”
He kissed me then, stemming my flow of words and making me cry again. The kiss was tender, sweet, and filled with love. It broke my heart to think because of one moment in time, I might lose the man put here for me. He ended the kiss, but kept his lips near mine.
“Answer me one question. Do you trust me?” he whispered, the room slowly getting brighter as the sun started to rise.
“Yes, I do, with all my heart. When you didn’t hesitate to come find me when I was lying in that field, broken, I’ve never trusted another human being more than I did you.”
He closed his eyes and lowered his lips to my forehead, leaving them there for several long minutes. He lifted his head and looked me straight in the eyes, his hands holding my cheeks. “Then trust me now. Just trust me and let everything else you’re facing fall away. We’ll get through it, together, because we both want the same thing; you well and happy, whether you’re walking or in a wheelchair. Trust me, okay?”
I put my hands over his and nodded, my eyes never leaving his face.
Christmas Morning
Present Day
“You trusted me then, and you’ve trusted me ever since that day, right?” he asked, bringing me back to the present.
“Right, and I still trust you, but I’m scared, Trey,” I admitted, hard as it was to do so.
“I know you are, and I know you’ve been scared a lot over the past decade, but I hope this is a different kind of fear.”
I pulled back and looked at him, his hair still every which way from bed and his blue eyes still as indescribable as they were the first day I met him. His were filled with hope and I worried mine weren’t.
I turned and left the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bed where he joined me. “I’m not sure that it is. If I am pregnant then our world changes again.”
He nodded. “It does, but it changes in a good way this time, sweetheart. It changes in a beautiful way.”
“Do you remember our first Thanksgiving together?” I asked suddenly and he looked at me with one brow cocked. “You said the same line to me back then.”
He smiled and took my hand, laying it on his lap. “I do remember that now…”
November 24
13 Years Prior
I wheeled my chair down the hallway to the living room where Trey waited for me. We had plans to go to the community Thanksgiving dinner at a local church to help serve the less privileged in the community. I didn’t know what I was going to do from a wheelchair, but he convinced me there would be plenty I could do.
He turned toward me dressed in his Sunday best, black dress pants and an orange dress shirt with a tie that looked like leaves were falling down it. His hair was styled just so, and I wanted to run my fingers through it in a way I had never had the urge to do before, and I’ve had a lot of urges since I moved in with him almost two months ago. I still slept in the extra bedroom, but no longer required a hospital bed or brace. My vertebra had healed, but my legs were a work in progress. The doctors were still hopeful I would regain more feeling in them, but progress has been slow.
This man, though, has an abundance of patience. He allows me to stay here, even though I’m healed, because there is no place else for me to go in a wheelchair. I can’t work, so I can’t rent an accessible apartment either. I felt relatively helpless, which wasn’t a good feeling at my age. I had to build up stamina while I finished my degree, so I could find work. I had no idea what I would do if I didn’t have him. Sure, mybabacould afford to rent me an apartment, but accessible ones were few and far between, especially ones close to a bus line or campus. So I lived here, and did my physical therapy in the mornings at the hospital. Trey brings me home at lunchtime and I study and rest until he comes home from work and makes dinner. We spend the evenings reading, watching movies, or occasionally we go out for dinner or to a show.
Going out wasn’t as easy as it sounded because my chair only folded in half, and the wheels can’t be removed. Taking it in and out of the car in the middle of a Minnesota winter was a dirty job. He never seemed to mind, though. I guess the person with the hang-up about going out in public was me. I always ran into someone I knew, and they always wanted to ask me a million questions about what happened. Questions I couldn’t answer, and therefore I didn’t want to talk about. It’s hard to think about how vulnerable I was, or how close to death, I came. If I didn’t think about it or talk about it, then my situation was temporary and not lifelong. It wasn’t a realistic way to deal with the event, but until I could remember what happened it was the only way I could deal with it.
