“They told you it could go on for a long time. Months maybe. You can't give up yet,” he said gently. It was so much easier for him, with Chloe so alive, so damaged, but so clearly out of danger. She might face future surgeries, and they would have to teach her to walk again, but the real danger was over. Now she had to adjust to the long grind of rehabilitation, and face the fact that her dreams of being a ballerina were over. No small thing, but she was in much better shape than Allyson, who still might die at any moment. It seemed so cruel to him that she might live for weeks, or even months, and still die in her coma. It was more than any parent should have to bear, and he hated to have Page go through it.
“I'm not giving up,” Page said, picking at the sandwich he had brought her. He knew that if he had left her there, she wouldn't have eaten it, which was why he had stayed with her. Besides, he wanted to be with her, although he claimed he needed a respite from Chloe and her friends. Chloe's high spirits were definitely returning. “I just feel so helpless,” Page said bleakly.
“You are. But you're doing everything you can, and so are the doctors. Give it time. It could go on like this for weeks, with no sign, and then she might wake up, and be relatively okay.”
“They said that if there's no sign of improvement at all after six weeks, she might remain in the coma.”
“But she could come out of it later than that too. It's happened before with kids her age …three months, isn't that what you said?” He encouraged her, but her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. So much was happening, so much to endure, so much to cope with, and at times she just felt like she couldn't face it.
“Trygve, how am I going to get through this?” She leaned her head against his chest and cried. It was easy to escape into thinking about him, or being angry at Brad, or worrying about Andy's arm. But the most important thing that was happening, the thing that all of them could barely face, was that Allyson might be dying.
“You're doing fine,” he said gently as he held her. “You're doing everything you can. The rest is in God's hands.”
She pulled away to look at him then, and he handed her a paper napkin to blow her nose with. “I wish He'd hurry up and fix it.”
Trygve smiled. “He will, give Him time.”
“He's had two weeks, and my life is falling apart.”
“Just hang in there. You're doing great.” One thing she knew for sure was that she couldn't have done it without him. Brad was God knows where doing God knows what. She knew he had come to see Allie at least once every day or two, but he couldn't take the anguish of the ICU for longer than a few minutes. He still couldn't face it. He couldn't face the sameness, the lack of change, the machines, the monitors, and the fact that they might lose her. He was leaving Page to cope with it alone. He had been a lot better about it when they had had Andy. But they had been younger then, and Andy had been so tiny and sweet. The incubator was filled with hope, and the ICU was filled with dying.
Page and Trygve sat talking for a long time, and he teased her that she was upset because of her mother's arrival the next day, and actually she didn't deny it.
“Why do you hate her so much?” he asked, he had wondered about it. It wasn't like her.
“Old news. I had a fairly rotten childhood.”
“Most people did. My father, good Norwegian that he was, thought an occasional caning was an important part of life. I still have a scar on my behind from one particularly vigorous session.”
“How awful!” She looked horrified.
“That was the way in those days. And he'd probably do it again now, if he had children. He can never understand why I'm so liberal with my kids. Actually, I think he and my mother are a lot happier now that they're back in Norway.”
“Could you ever see yourself living there?” she asked, intrigued, trying to forget her worries about Allie. He was right. There was nothing she could do but wait, hope, and pray. And see what happened.
“No, I couldn't,” he said in answer to her question about Norway. “Not after living here. The winters are endless there, and it's dark all day long. It's kind of primeval. I don't think I'd survive anymore out of California.”
“Yeah, me too.” The idea of moving to New York again made her shudder. Although she would have liked the opportunity to pursue her artwork there. But she could do it in California too. She just hadn't bothered. Brad had always made her feel that it was something she should do for friends, or in their kitchen. Not something she should ever work at. Somehow he felt that what she did wasn't important. She'd promised to do another mural for the school, but spending every spare moment at the hospital, she didn't have time now.
“You ought to do something here,” Trygve said later, looking around them. The waiting room was a dismal place, and the hallway was worse. “It's so depressing. One of your murals would give people something to think about while they wait. They make you happy just looking at them,” he said admiringly.
“Thank you. I enjoy it.” She looked around the room, thinking of what she could do there, but hoping she wouldn't be there long enough to do it.
“Am I going to meet your mother while she's here?” he asked comfortably, and Page rolled her eyes while he laughed. “She can't be that bad.”
“Actually, she's worse, but she can be pretty subtle about it when she wants to. She refuses to face anything disagreeable. Or discuss it. This is going to present quite a challenge for her.”