Remembering her missing spleen, I ask, “And how’s her temperature?”
“Normal.”
I continue talking throughout the night, never getting tired, never wanting to sleep. Bronwyn leaves the room on a couple of occasions – the first time I was terrified she was leaving in case Trix deteriorated while she was gone – but she’d quickly returned bearing coffee, and one time with sandwiches. I force myself to caffeinate and to eat, but I couldn’t tell you what I was putting into my mouth. My actions were automatic.
And still Trixie just lies there. Except for every now and then, there’s that movement behind her eyelids.
“I’m just popping to the bathroom,” Bronwyn tells me. “Do you want anything?”
Nothing other than for my woman to wake up.I shake my head.
When she returns, she clears her throat to get my attention. “Freak, Ace is outside. He wants to see Trixie.”
“How the fuck does he know?” I hiss. I’d wanted to keep everything from him until Trixie was awake and he could see for himself that she was going to be alright.
“Ace isn’t stupid.” She rolls her eyes.
Damn that kid of mine and his abilities. He might have hacked into our phones for all I know. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“He can’t see her like this.”
“She’s not getting worse, Freak. Her vital signs are improving. He’s getting himself wound up. In my view, he needs to see her. He knows what to expect.”
After thinking about it for a moment, I know that she’s right. Exhaling, I sigh. “Yeah, he can come in.”
She leaves again, and moments later, she returns with my son in tow. I expect Ace to fall to pieces, seeing Trixie looking so bad and so still, but he surprises me.
“She’s going to be fine, Dad.” He pulls up another chair and sits opposite, taking her free hand in his.
He’s more confident than I am. I’d hoped she would have awoken by now. Dr. Robson had said he suspected a concussion, but what if it was actually a brain bleed? What if, instead of recovering, she’s slowly dying in front of me? What if I live to regret my insistence that she be treated here tonight?
I start to hyperventilate.
“Dad,” Ace snaps.
He’s my kid. I’ve got to be strong for him.I make a conscious effort to even out my breaths, breathing deeply in and out.
“She’s going to be fine, I know it. She’s going to wake up soon.”
Should I be doing something to prepare him, in case it all goes to shit?But I just can’t bring myself to voice my deepest fears, and to put them onto him.
“You want to know how I know that she’s going to wake up soon?”
I glance at my son, at Trixie, whose condition hasn’t changed at all, and then at Bronwyn, who’s continuing to monitor her, and giving no hint that she’s improving.
“Dad?” he asks again.
Okay, I’ll bite. “How do you know?” Ace half-stands, leans over, and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “She’s going to wake up for me, because I’m who she wanted all along. You’re just the necessary collateral that she had to accept to have me as her son.”
My jaw drops. “Cheeky fuckin’ ass.”
“He’s right, you know. It was Ace whom I wanted.” The voice sounds rusty, but to hell with that. I’ll take anything. I dare lower my gaze to the woman lying on the medical bed. Trix’s eyes are half-open, and her lips are curved.
“You’re awake.”
“I wish I wasn’t.” She spies Bronwyn, and rasps, “You got any of the good stuff?”
Bronwyn smiles, takes Trixie’s pulse again, and fixes the blood pressure monitor to her arm. “I can put more in your drip, or I’ve got tablets for you to take.”
