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“I brought you some coffee.”
And again… silence.
“Would you like me to bring your newspaper to you?”
But still, nothing other than silence.
His body was unwavering, except for the rising and falling of his shoulders as he breathed. It was like he was in a trance, and I wondered if he could hear me. I took a step into his room and made my way for his nightstand, then set the coffee I’d poured for him down onto it.
I expected him to make a move to take it, but he didn’t.
Not even his fingers flinched.
“Can I get you anything else?”
I looked down into his face as he stared out the window. In a trance-like state, with his eyes unfocused and his hair disheveled from sleep. I looked over at his bed and saw how mangled the sheets were. The fitted sheet at the corner of the bed was pulled away and one of his pillow cases was on the floor. His comforter was bunched up at the foot of his bed and his mattress was slid a little off its frame.
Nightmares.
Hayden was having nightmares about his accident.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. This man, who had taken over a billion-dollar family business and stretched it to new heights, was struggling. This strong man who was so obviously used to keeping up with his body and walking tall down the street couldn’t even get the night’s rest he needed to get back to that life.
I looked back at Hayden and saw him staring at me, his eyes focused and his mouth pursed into a thin line.
“Get out,” he said.
“Let me get your sheets back on the bed,” I said.
“Leave.”
“When I fix your bed, I will.”
“Leave it,” he said.
His voice sounded so defeated. Like a small boy who had lost his favorite pet and searched the entire block to find it.
“They probably need to be washed anyway,” I said mindlessly.
I ripped them off the bed and gathered them into my arms as his head turned back out the window. I made my way for the door and looked back at him, taking in his longing reflection in the window. He wanted to be outside. I knew he did. He wanted to be well and back at work and at full strength again.
But he was stuck in that chair, and every time he looked into the mirror, he was reminded of it.
Reminded of that damn accident he was in.
I silently closed the door behind me as tears rose to my eyes. I ached for him. I wanted to help him get better. I wanted him to open up to me so I could talk with him and get to know him and put him on a better mental path so his body would follow. As I walked the sheets to the laundry room and stuffed them in, tears dripped down my cheeks.
I sniffled and rose my hand to wipe them away before I reached for the detergent.
Nightmares were the last thing he needed. With his poor mental state and his frustrations always getting the better of him, he needed that sleep. He needed those eight or nine hours to replenish his body and give himself ample time to heal. It was the most important few hours of his entire day, and he was being robbed of that as well.
The man had no reprieve, and I didn’t know what I could do to fix that.
I wasn’t sure if I could.
He didn’t come out of his room all morning. I brought him lunch and set it on the side table and noticed his coffee hadn’t been touched. I took the mug back to the kitchen and poured it out, then placed the mug in the dishwasher to be cleaned. We weren’t traveling down this road. If Hayden refused to eat, I had ways of making sure he got the calories and nutrition he needed. I.V. bags I could hook him up to and hospitals I could admit him to if I felt it was necessary. I could handle the anger and I could handle the distance. I could even handle the nightmares.
But I wouldn’t allow him to handle not eating.
