Page 27 of Trusting Trey
He looked at me questionably, but stood and went to the closet where we keep our briefcases and work related things. He carried it back and set it on the table, taking the chair opposite mine. I dug around in the black leather bag until I found the file folder and pulled it out. I took out a sheet of paper and laid it in front of him, pointing at the top.
“This is why I contacted him,” I said, waiting while he read the information.
He finally looked up and leaned on the table with his elbows. “You’re going to record your message for colleges? Won’t that defeat the purpose of traveling around to share your message with the students?”
“Yes and no,” I said, laying a hand on his forearm. “Whether I’m carrying a baby at this moment in time or not, eventually I will be. Once I have a family I don’t want to travel outside of our local area, but I know how important this message is to get out to kids as they start their college career. Putting together a presentation that the campuses can use without me having to be there is a way to teach the kids about the dangers of hazing. Along with the video, there will be interactive role playing options for the students to engage in after the presentation. The counselors, in the schools I’ve talked to, all think it’s a wonderful idea, and easy for them to present without me. I’ve also talked with high schools about running the program in the spring before their seniors graduate and even step a foot on campus.”
He picked up my hand and kissed it, a smile finally pulling his lips upward. “You always surprise me. This is a great idea and I’m relieved to know that you’ll want to stop traveling once we have a baby. He or she will need their momma.”
I smiled and nodded, still afraid to think about opening that pregnancy test and confronting what the results were. Instead, I motioned at the paper. “When Sam’s lawyer contacted me and told me that Sam wanted to speak with me, I saw an opportunity. I can only give the students the perspective of a victim. Sam can give them the perspective of the perpetrator and how it ruined his life.”
He sighed and stared me down, finally blinking. “What did you have in mind? There is no way you’ll see him, Allie, ever.”
I held up my hand. “I know, and I don’t want to see him. Speaking to him was honestly much harder than I thought it would be, but I forced myself to do it. Don’t think for a second that I feel sorry for him or for the fact that he’s in prison until he’s an old man.”
“That’s comforting to hear, at least,” he said and I frowned.
I hadn’t meant to make this hard for him, or me, for that matter. After I told Trey what happened that night, the pain meds he gave me were actually sedatives. While I was sleeping, he called the police and gave them the Dictaphone he uses for patient files, which he had apparently turned on before I began to relate the story. I was grateful that he had recorded it because I didn’t think I would be able to tell the story ever again. The police took the information and investigated the fraternity, questioning members of the house, and finally tracking down Sam. They brought him in for questioning and caught him in his own lies. Once he realized he didn’t have an out, he confessed to the whole thing. It turns out they found Jake several days after me in a field beyond the campus. Jake had extreme damage to his spine and neck, but unlike me, he didn’t survive his injuries or the cold nights in the field. The police had deemed our accidents as the result of the same driver, but whom the driver was they didn’t know.
When the police detectives questioned Sam about Jake’s death, he swore he didn’t have anything to do with it. That it was an unfortunate accident and nothing more. While he was sweating it out in a holding cell, the cops tracked down a car with frontend damage he’d sold in Wisconsin. He claimed he had hit a deer with it when he traded it in. Unfortunately for him the car dealer hadn’t fixed it or sold it in the two months after he traded it. The cops went back to him and when they mentioned the traded vehicle, he folded and spilled the whole story. He claims he thought I was dead and when Jake came back to the house later that night, he started talking about how he was going to go to the police and tell them what they did. Apparently, Sam told him to go for a walk and shake it off, and once he was on the road, Sam mowed him down.
If I lucked out in one thing, it was that he confessed to both crimes, so there was no trial. He had multiple charges stacked against him and he won’t come up for parole until he’s seventy. I guess the last thirteen years behind bars had him questioning his reason for existence.
I took the paper off the table and slid it back into the briefcase. “His lawyer told him what I’m doing at the colleges to try and save lives. He said if I was brave enough to put myself through telling my story, then he should do the same. He wants to have the media company who is putting together the digital presentation come to the prison and film a segment with him. He will speak candidly about his choices that night and how it ruined his life, and the lives of others. He made no excuses, Trey. He said he confessed to the crimes because he didn’t want to put any of us through a trial. I think he wanted me to thank him, but I didn’t. I won’t give him the satisfaction of that. Are you angry?” I asked, zipping the briefcase.
He shook his head. “No, I’m surprised, but not angry. I just wish he would stop popping into our lives.”
I shook my head and grabbed his hand. “He’s not popping into our lives. I have absolutely no intention of watching the segment he will record. His lawyer, and the media company, along with the test colleges will decide if the segment meets the agreed upon terms. He is supposed to speak only of his crimes, how they hurt others, and ruined his life, nothing more. His lawyer has assured me of this. I planned to talk to you about it after the holidays. If you don’t want me to do it, I will tell them no. Also, if I go to any colleges or high schools to speak, his portion of the presentation won’t be shown. I don’t want to see his face or hear his voice ever again. I can forgive him for what he did, but I cannot forget.”
He touched my face and then pulled me up, leading me back to the bedroom. “I agree to those terms, but I want you to keep me informed about all of it. Deal?”
I nodded. “Deal.”
He ushered me into the bathroom again and turned on the light, handing me the box of tests again. “Now, I think it’s time we find out the answer to this question, don’t you?”
“I guess so,” I said, accepting the box again. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”
He leaned forward and kissed me with the tenderness of a man completely in love. “Honey, I will never be disappointed in you. If you’re not pregnant, then we keep trying, trust me when I say it’s not a chore.” He winked and that made me laugh.
I looked down at the box and back to him. “Okay, but I don’t think I can sit and watch it for three minutes.”
He pointed out to the other room. “Take the test and leave it on the sink. We’ll wait it out together and look at it together. We’ll do it the way we’ve done everything else in our lives, together.”
I nodded my agreement and he gave me a sweet kiss then pulled the door closed behind him. I looked down at the box in my hand and took my time opening it. I made a show of crinkling the wrapper, so he could hear it from our bed. I held the test up and stared at it, the little window still innocently neutral. If a positive sign shows up there in three minutes, by this time next year I'll be a mother. If a negative line shows up, then who knows how long it will take to make that man out there a father.
Then there was the fear of the unknown on my body, and a baby's developing body. Dr. Fatma said pregnancy would do no harm thirteen years after the accident, but there was always a little doubt trying to steal the excitement away. What if a baby pushed on my spine and I had to use a wheelchair again? What if my drop foot worsened because of the pregnancy and weight gain? Dr. Fatma made it clear that those things might happen, but they would only be temporary and only until the baby was born.
I shook my head a little and sighed. It’s now or never, Allison. I followed the directions on the box, set it on the edge of the sink, washed my hands, and opened the door to an anxious husband.
“How did it go?” he asked, taking my hand.
“Fine, I guess. I followed the directions. Now we wait.”
He pointed into the bathroom. “Did anything show up that you saw?”
“Just the control line,” I answered. “I made a point not to look.”
“Why?” he asked, holding my hand and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.
