Be My Baby Lite

by ANDREA SMITH

  Can’t be - I don’t do drugs. This has to be a dream - that harp-sounding music has confirmed it to me. But as far as dreams go, it’s fairly pleasant. I need to find my wife in this dream and then it'll be even better. She makes everything better for me.

  I think about her smile, her sexiness, her scent – all of it's what makes her Tylar, my Tylar. I’m betting she pops into this dream. I just need to go with the flow and catch up to her.

  I feel like I’m floating now as this long tunnel's finally opening up to some gigantic ballroom. Up ahead I can see lots of people milling about. Several of them are looking my way and beckoning me to come closer. Everyone sort of looks like they’re floating just like me. I feel enveloped in peace and serenity; this dream's unfolding so differently than all of the ones I’ve had before.

  I’m finally at the end of this tunnel and the grand ballroom is magnificent. I'm looking around for Tylar in the crowd of people. Suddenly I spot her only she’s different. She looks a little bit younger. She smiles and approaches me with a baby in her arms....a very tiny baby – not Preston. Tylar's wearing a beautiful red sweater dress. It’s both familiar and not familiar, if that makes sense. I see that she's fixed her hair a bit differently.

  She glides effortlessly over to me, cradling our little bundle of joy next to her.

  “Hey baby,” I say to her, “you look great. Where've you been? Whose baby?”

  She's quiet as she tilts the baby upward to give me a peek beneath the soft white blanket.

  I look down into the little cherub face. It’s Marley! My look of surprise is evident as I look back at Tylar and see her smiling at me with her green eyes twinkling.

  Whoa – wait a minute; wait one damn minute! Tylar’s eyes are tawny brown - not green; I look back at the baby and then at the woman. My God – it’s Marla!

  “Marla?” I hear my voice but I don’t recognize it. It has a melodic quality to it that's not familiar to me.

  “Yes, Trey, it’s Marla,” she answers in a sweet and melodic voice of her own. “I’m watching over Marley for you and Tylar. She's quite exquisite, isn’t she?”

  My eyes drop to my baby daughter - the one I'd had never known. She's beautiful. Her eyes flutter open. I'd never seen them because she was ‘born silent.’ That's how the hospital staff had put it. It sounded so much better than ‘stillborn.’

  Her eyes are tawny brown; just like Tylar’s. She smiles up at me, displaying a dimple just like mine. I'm filled with love for this child but happiness as well. It's a very strange emotion I'm feeling. I'm not familiar with it.

  “Her eyes,” I comment.

  Marla interrupts, “Those are the eyes of Judge Preston Tylar,” she finishes for me. “They're the most beautiful shade of brown I’ve ever seen. My Tylar has those eyes; my beautiful Tylar Jamie.”

  I lower my face to my daughter’s and brush a kiss across her soft, baby skin. She grins up at me and I feel as if I'll burst with pride and with joy.

  “Can I hold her?”

  Marla continues to smile down at Marley. She clearly has taken to being a grandmother even though she looks like a teenager. I can see that she is hesitant to part with the baby.

  “I thank you so much for caring for her, Marla, but I really think I need to take her now; I have to take her home to Tylar. She'll be so happy to have Marley home with us. Preston will be excited to see her sissy. Our family will be just as we planned it.”

  Marla doesn’t answer me. She continues to cuddle the baby as if she hasn’t heard a word that I’ve said. I certainly don't want to have mother-in-law issues in this otherwise perfect dream, but I'm thinking being Marley’s father supersedes her as grandmother. I need to take our baby girl home. I need to have Tylar's sadness wiped away.

  “Marla, I’m sorry, but I really must insist you hand my daughter over to me so that we can get home.”

  I reach for the baby but my hands seem to go right through her as if she's nothing more than an image. What the hell? I look at Marla and she's slowly fading; the image of her and Marley are fading from my view as are the rest of the people in the grand ballroom. It's as if they've disappeared into the mist.

  I must be awakening from this very strange but very calming dream. I don’t want to wake up until I can bring our baby home. I don’t want Tylar sad anymore about not having Marley with us.

  I'm startled by the tunnel voices again. It's Tylar and Tristan. They seem to be arguing. It's unusual for Tristan to be arguing with anyone - other than me I think to myself chuckling. I can hear their conversation but it’s puzzling to me. I need to wake up and find out what the fuck is going on!

  I was jostled awake where I'd been sleeping in a hospital chair that doubled as a lazy boy. It was Tristan. The open blinds revealed that it was dark out now.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s late, Tylar. It’s time for you to go back to your hotel and get something to eat and go to bed. I’ll stay here tonight with Trey.”

  “No,” I argued, “I'm not leaving here until Trey wakes up.”

  “Tylar,” his voice was now taking on the same strict tone that Trey’s did when he meant business, “You're not staying here around the clock. Trey wouldn't want that; as his brother, I intend to carry out his wishes while he's temporarily incapacitated and not here to control you himself. End of discussion.”

  “Tristan - please? I need to be here with him.”

  “We'll take shifts. Right now this is my shift. I had dinner already and I'm relieving you. Your limo is outside waiting. I'll see you in the morning, Tylar.”

  I reluctantly took my leave when I realized Tristan wasn't going to budge. I went over and kissed Trey several times. I assured him that I'd be back in the morning.

  As promised, the limo was waiting outside for me. I was driven the short distance to my hotel where I showered and collapsed into bed exhausted. I wanted morning to come quickly so that I could be with Trey again.

  CHAPTER 27

  The days ahead were more of the same. Tristan and I took shifts staying in Trey’s hospital room. Watching and waiting for some miraculous change in his condition, but there was none. His doctors were still ‘guardedly’ optimistic about his recovery.

  My father arrived in Nashville on Saturday afternoon as promised. He'd brought Preston with him. Trey had been moved to a step-down unit that morning. Tristan had flown back to Atlanta the night before to spend time with Gina and Reese. His parents were still there helping out.

  Now that Trey was in a regular room, the hospital permitted more family to be present. Preston was allowed to be in the room with me during visiting hours. I hadn’t seen her since the night before Trey and I'd left for our cruise nearly two weeks prior.

  Seeing my father carry her into Trey’s room brought a rush of emotion to me. She was dressed in the beautiful coat and hat that Susan and Clive had given her for Christmas last year.

  “Mommie,” she squealed, reaching for me. I was on my feet taking her from Dad and settling her down on the sofa that doubled as a pull-out bed in the hospital room.

  “Hi, baby girl,” I cooed to her, taking off her hat and coat, and giving her a visual inspection. I hugged her closely to me.

  “Mommy missed you, Preston. Have you been a good girl for Aunt Gina and Grandma?”

  “Un huh,” she said, shaking her head up and down.

  Her big blue eyes were taking in all of the monitors and gadgets in the room. She immediately spotted Trey, her little arm outstretched, her finger pointing over to him. “Daddy seeping?”

  “Yes, honey,” I answered. “Daddy's resting so that he can get all better.”

  I looked over at my father. “What should I tell her?”

  He immediately came over and reached for her to take her.

  “Let me show you something, Preston,” he said, lifting her into his arms. He carried her over closer to Trey’s bed.

  “Do you remember what I explained to you on the plane this morning about sometime
s people have accidents and get boo- boos?”

  She was watching my father intently nodding her head up and down, her little index finger in her mouth.

  “Remember how I told you that hospitals are places that help people that have been hurt get all better?”

  “Uh huh. Daddy got boo-boos?”

  “Yes, honey, he does. But they're getting better. I’m sure your daddy would like it very much if you gave him a kiss. Do you want Grandpa to lower you down so you can give Daddy a kiss on his cheek?”

  “Un unh,” she said, shaking her head ‘no.’

  My father looked over at me clearly distressed. It was apparent that Preston was a bit apprehensive about seeing Trey in his present condition.

  “Tylar,” he said, “this is probably a bit difficult for her to comprehend.”

  “I know, Dad. Let’s not push it. I’d like to spend some time with her. Will you stay with Trey?”

  “Of course, I will.”

  “Come on, Preston,” I said taking her. “Do you want to go and have some ice cream with Mommy?”

  I took her to the cafeteria and we had ice cream together. She chatted away about Reese in her own little ‘baby’ language. It suddenly dawned on me that Preston was 19 months old this very day. She was growing up so fast. I didn’t want Trey to miss any of it.

  Dad stayed with Trey while I took Preston back to the hotel and we napped together.

  I made dinner for her and then showered and changed my clothes. We headed back to the hospital so that I could relieve Dad. There was a nurse in the room talking to Dad when we got there and someone else in a suit was with them. They had Trey’s chart in front of them reviewing it.

  “Tylar, can I see you in the hall for a moment?”

  “Sure Dad.”

  We stepped out in the hallway. Dad immediately took Preston from me.

  “Sweetheart, I hope you don’t think I'm stepping on your toes but it grieves me to see the way you spend 24/7 here at this hospital, hundreds of miles away from your family - your support system."

  "I enlisted the help of Trey’s nurse to contact someone from hospital administration to see if Trey could potentially be transported back to a hospital in the Atlanta area to convalesce. They can transport him on Tuesday and have referred him to a neurologist in Atlanta.”

  “Oh, Dad - thank you! I didn’t even think about making that inquiry. I seem to be taking things hour by hour these days.”

  “That’s only natural. That’s all you had to work with for the first few days you were here but he's stabilized so his physical therapy can be administered just as easily in Atlanta.”

  I was so grateful for my dad’s intervention. I guess that was something else that fathers did. I hugged my father tightly to me. He was my rock as well.

  Trey was transferred to St. Matthews as scheduled the following Tuesday. Tristan, Clive and Susan were all waiting as the private medical helicopter arrived with Trey and me.

  He was settled into to a private room in the short-term rehab unit. It was just ten days ago that Karen Deeny’s vehicle had careened into our lives wreaking turmoil. I was thankful for each day Trey was here because I knew he would get stronger.

  I felt less stressed now that he was back in Atlanta. I needed family. My father had been right. I would call Dad later to let him know everything went as planned once I was sure that Trey was stable in his new surroundings.

  The physical therapist came into the room later that evening at everyone else had gone home. I was leaning over Trey, carefully shaving his face. I'd been vigilant about that when we were in Nashville. His bruises had started to fade; his stitches were dissolving as his lacerations healed. I was talking to Trey as I shaved. I always did that to keep him up to date on what was going on. I hadn’t heard anyone come into the room.

  I heard a male voice clear his throat somewhere behind me. It startled me; I jumped and nicked Trey’s face.

  “Holy shit! Now I’ve slashed my husband’s face thank you very much,” I muttered, grabbing a tissue from the box and pressing it up against the tiny little knick.

  “I hardly think you could call that a slash, Mrs. Sinclair; I apologize for startling you like that.”

  I looked at the man standing at the foot of Trey’s bed. He was in light blue scrubs and had Trey’s chart in his hands. He was extremely handsome; tall and muscular, with thick wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He didn’t look like he was more than thirty years old. His eyes couldn’t hide the amusement he got from my over-reaction on the tiny knick.

  “I’m Dr. Phillip Grayson, Mrs. Sinclair. I'll be writing the physical therapy treatment plan for your husband.”

  I wiped the shaving cream off of Trey’s face with a towel; and pressed a small piece of tissue to the knick. I stood up and went over to where Dr. Grayson was standing. He smiled holding his hand out to shake mine. I took his hand noticing that it was warm and strong; like Trey’s.

  “Do you have a few minutes to answer some preliminary questions that will aid in my developing his P-T plan?”

  “Of course,” I replied, walking over to the window and adjusting the blinds to allow more light into the room.

  Dr. Grayson asked me questions about Trey’s physical fitness and workout habits prior to the accident. He examined him briefly, commenting on his good muscle tone.

  “Isn’t it kind of early to start physical therapy when he’s still in a coma, Dr. Grayson?”

  “You’d be surprised at how quickly the muscles can atrophy, Mrs. Sinclair, especially with someone that works out as stringently as it appears your husband has been doing. He won’t be a happy camper if we let that happen to him,” he gave me a smile and a wink.

  I felt my face flush. I appreciated the fact that this doctor out of all of the ones I'd talked to over the past week was the first to allude to the fact that Trey was going to wake up. This doctor didn’t want Trey to be pissed when he did. I liked that.

  The doctor gave me his card instructing me to contact him if I had any questions. He told me Trey’s therapy would start the following day. There would be three 15-minute sessions to introduce and reinforce stimuli for his breathing and physical movement abilities. He said it was important to prevent pneumonia or other infections while Trey remained in a temporary vegetative state.

  Dr. Grayson answered some of my questions and put me totally at ease that nothing they used to stimulate Trey could adversely affect his coma; on the contrary he said that patient’s response to the various stimuli serves to bring them out of the vegetative state. I felt optimistic.

  He was just finishing up with our discussion when Gina breezed through the door. Dr. Grayson shook my hand again and departed. I shoved his card into my pocket.

  “Whoa, who was that?” she said coming over to me and giving me a hug.

  “That was Dr. Grayson; he's the head of Physical Therapy for vegetative patients here, apparently.”

  “Clearly not hard on the eyes either,” Gina replied.

  “Shhh--” I hissed at her, nodding my head towards Trey. I motioned for her to follow me out into the hallway so that we could talk.

  “Gina - you have to watch what you say when you’re around Trey,” I warned her.

  “Ty, I was only making light of it. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know but suppose Trey heard that? You know how he is about stuff like that. All that's going to do is piss him off and possibly hinder his recovery.”

  “Gee, girlfriend, I didn’t think about that. I’ll watch what I say, I promise.”

  “Okay, then,” I said, hugging her.

  Gina spent the next hour with me catching me up on all the things that Preston had been up while I'd been on vacation and then in Nashville. She said Susan had been a godsend through all of this.

  “Ty, do you want to stay at the apartment with us? It’s closer to the hospital?”

  “Actually, Gina, I want to get back home with Preston and Jean. I have to put some normalc
y back into Preston’s life. You know she wouldn’t kiss Trey when Dad brought her to Nashville over the weekend.”

  “She’s just a toddler. She doesn’t understand.”

  “I know that, but I need to talk to her and reinforce that her daddy will be okay. I don’t want her to forget how he was before all of this happened.”

  “It’s just been a little over two weeks since she saw Trey. I don’t think she'll forget him that quickly.”

  Gina and I picked up Preston and then she drove me out to our house.

  Susan was staying with Trey tonight; Clive was staying the following night. Tristan had insisted that the four of us all take turns. I knew he was worried about me. I knew they all were worried.