CHAPTER 25
I was released from the hospital the following afternoon. I was diagnosed with a slight concussion; facial bruising and a mild case of whiplash. The doctors indicated I would be back to normal in a matter of four or five weeks. Until then, I had no restrictions other than to avoid any physical activities which would serve to aggravate my head or neck.
As promised, my father was there with a suitcase that Gina had packed for me and drove me to the private air field where the commissioned private plane and pilot waited to take me to Nashville. Tristan had left the previous evening for Nashville; Susan and Clive had headed back to Atlanta to stay with Reese and Preston so that Gina could handle the club in Tristan's absence. As always, this family pulled together in times of tragedy and strife.
"I wish you were coming with me, Dad. I'm frightened of what I might find when I get there."
"That's understandable, darling. I would accompany you if I could but I have an appeal hearing that requires my immediate return to Baton Rouge. I will get up this weekend for sure. You will be fine. You are stronger than you think, Tylar. There will be a limo to take you to the hospital; I've also reserved an apartment for you at a nearby Marriott. Please call me this evening to check in?"
"I will, Dad," I replied, hugging him tightly as I headed out the door to the tarmac. He stayed at the door watching until the small jet had safely taken off.
I had texted Tristan from the plane giving him my ETA at the hospital. He said to text him when I came in through the hospital lobby and he would come down to meet me.
Once there, I did as instructed and Tristan appeared within moments coming off of the elevator and heading down the hallway to greet me.
"How is he?" I asked guardedly.
"He is pretty much the same, Tylar. But for now, that is the best that we can hope for. His vitals remain strong. He is in a coma which is to be expected. The doctors say that comas are the body's way of shutting down overactive brain activity to allow the patient to heal."
"Do they know when he will come out of it?"
"No honey, it is different with everyone. We just have to be patient and vigilant."
I totally intended to be vigilant. I was not going to leave Trey's side until he woke up.
Tristan held the door to the elevator open while I got in ahead of him. He followed behind. It was strange to see him so solemn. I could tell he was trying to be as optimistic as possible for me.
Tristan guided me into Trey's hospital room, his hand on my elbow. The first thing that caught my attention was how gloomy the room was; there was no sunlight filtering in from the outside. The mini blinds were closed shut. This would not do!
I immediately left Tristan's side and went over to the window and twisted the wand so that the blinds opened allowing the golden sunlight to filter into Trey's room.
There. That was much better. It wouldn't do for Trey to wake up to a dark and gloomy tomb. I turned and lowered my eyes to the hospital bed where Trey slept in his deep coma. I studied his beautiful face. It was swollen on one side near the top of his cheekbone. Most of his face was black and blue. Several lacerations that had been stitched with black thread were around his hairline and temples.
He had a white gauze bandage wrapped several times around his head that was about 5" wide. The hair to the left side towards the back of his head had been shaved for the surgery. There was an additional pad cushioning the area where the neurosurgeon had drilled through Trey's skull in order to relieve the pressure of the bleeding.
His right arm was in a cast and sling; his left wrist had been broken and was in a splint. He had suffered three broken ribs as well; one had punctured a lung.
According to Tristan, the doctors were amazed it hadn't been worse. They attributed his lack of bone breakage to his healthy physique. He had 'landed' well as they put it. There was nothing that could have protected his head though.
The surgeon had succeeded in doing what needed to be done. The rest was up to Trey and to God. Even the doctors had made that comment according to Tristan. He said I would meet his surgeon tomorrow when he checked him again.
Tristan was studying me. I could feel his emerald eyes watching me. What was he expecting? Did he think I would melt? Did he think I would dissolve into a million pieces in front of my husband? If that it was he was thinking he didn't have a clue as to how I rolled.
I had read many times that comatose patients retain their hearing to some degree. I had also read that those who had experienced near death experiences and survived spoke of being caught between two worlds and being somewhat cognizant of what was going on around them. I wasn't sure which path Trey was currently exploring, but what I did know was that I had some things to say to him and they were going to be said.
I turned to Tristan.
"I need some time alone with Trey."
Tristan's face was caught between indecision and concern. He finally could find no reason to stay; he turned and left the room, the door closing behind him.
It was just me and Trey now; and the assortment of life preserving equipment that surrounded us. I looked at my husband's battered body and his beauty remained. Nothing could take that from him; that was just Trey.
I kicked my shoes off and tossed my jacket on to one of the chairs in the corner. I gently climbed up next to him on his sterile bed, careful not to disturb any of the IV's, his feeding tube or the multiple monitors attached to him. It was odd for me to be so close to him - close enough to feel his warmth - and yet not have him pulling me closer to him with his strong arms; wrapping himself around me; burying his face into my hair.
I gently put one arm over him so that we were touching. I needed to feel his body, his strong and loving body.
I reached my fingers up to touch his chin dimple; he was in need of a shave. His five o'clock shadow was now at 11:00 p.m. I made a mental note that I would get a shaving kit for him so that I could shave his face tomorrow. His skin was warm to my touch. He didn't seem to feel my touch but then I hadn't figured that he would.
"Trey," I said quietly, but firmly, "Don't you leave me. Do you hear what I am saying to you? If you leave me I will never forgive you, Trey Michael. We’ve got things to do yet. We've got our daughter to raise. She adores you and so do I. What about our unborn children? You are a stickler that Preston not be an 'only' child, remember? Well if you leave, she will be an only child, Trey."
I stopped to watch his face. I needed to see something. The twitch of a muscle; the movement of his eyes beneath his eyelids - something! But there was nothing; the machines were doing all of the work for him right now.
"Then, there is also the matter of how much I love you. Do you think I arbitrarily give my love to just anyone? You know me, Trey. You know me in some ways better than I know myself. You forced me to deal with my fears and my nightmares. You forced me to face the truth about my past and deal with my demons. I did it Trey; I did it because of you. I thank you for that, baby. Now, I want you to do something for me. I need for you to wake up baby. I need for you to come home to me and Preston, please?"
The tears were flowing down my cheeks now. I laid there on my side next to my comatose husband and I waited. I waited for his thumb to reach up and brush my tears away; I waited for his lips to find my tear stains and kiss them away; I waited for his lips then to claim mine as he possessed them with his. It didn't happen. All I saw was my Trey beneath his life-saving equipment. His eyelids didn't flutter; he body didn't respond to my touch.
"I get that you're tired, Trey. I get that you need to heal. You've been through a lot. I will be here with you every day until you are better and ready to come home. I need to see that you're trying to get better, sweetheart. I need to make sure that you don't stop. If you leave me, Trey, I'm just not sure that I could go on without you. Oh - I know that pisses you off to hear me say that. You're hearing it now, and it's the truth - I don't want to live if I have to live without you."
I leaned over and kissed his chin, his nose and his bruised and swollen cheeks.
"I love you Trey, I love you, Trey.”