Toby also stared at me sympathetically.
What was wrong with me?
Once caught by strong emotion, I was not able to calm down.
Squatting on the ground, I pulled my hair like a crazy person.
I was not sick. I was sure.
My mind didn’t become clear until one hour later when Dennis stood beside me.
Clarrie was not around.
I pulled Dennis’ sleeve, “Was Clarrie taken away?”
He shook his head slightly, with a gentle look at me, “No, she was sleeping in her room.”
Hugging me tightly, he assured me with an assuring voice, “Mario won’t take her away. She is our daughter and will stay with us. Don’t worry.”
With his promise, I felt relieved.
Feeling his heartbeat in his arms, I remained silent.
He patted my back as if he were saying, “I am sorry I was so busy that I didn’t take good care of you these days.”
I remained silent.
He sighed, and said gingerly, “Clara, let’s go to the hospital tomorrow, please.”
My body stiffened instantly and he held me more tightly.
“Don’t be afraid.” He tried to console me.
I pressed my lips for quite a while before I agreed.
Going to the hospital meant that I was sick.
I had been sick four years ago but I had thought that I was okay now.
But I was wrong.
The night passed when I succeeded in falling into sleep with Dennis accompanying me.
On the next day, Toby came early to pick Clarrie up, whom I saw off for long.
Dennis held my hand, “Don’t worry. She will be back in the evening.”
I nodded and got into his car, fidgeting on the seat.
Unexpectedly, he took me to a private hospital instead of a public one.
Not having registered, I was led by him to an office room and was told to wait, sitting.
There was nobody in the room; I was confused, “What are we doing here?”
He patted my hand, “To see a doctor. Don’t overthink but you will be honest when asked by the doctor, won’t you?”
I nodded, but couldn’t help feeling smothered in this small room.
Around ten minutes later, an old man aged about sixty, who was wearing a doctor’s coat, came in.
He smiled at Dennis and then turned to me.
Then looking back at Dennis, he asked, “You will be here?”
Dennis nodded.
Raising his eyebrows, the old man said nothing.
After checking the papers that I brought here, he asked me, “Did you sleep well lately?”
“It was okay.” I felt upset about the narrow space and the interrogating question.
Suddenly I felt like vomiting and rushed into the bathroom.
I saw blood in the vomits.
I was frozen, why there was blood?
Watching me with concern, the doctor told me to have a walk downstairs instead of troubling me with more questions.
Dennis was quite solicitous, “Don’t walk too far. Wait for me downstairs.”
I nodded and summoned a smile.
He held my hand pressingly and turned to the doctor, “Well, let’s call it a day and I’ll come here some other day.”
The doctor looked at me, sighed, and said nothing.
In the car, I saw Dennis’ pale face, “It must be serious?”
He smiled, his fingers caressing my face, and said tenderly, “No, don’t worry. It’s probably some stomach trouble. I’ll let Toby get some medicine later.”
I felt like he was cheating himself and I said nothing.
We both knew how severe it was, yet we weren’t willing to speak it out.
Back home, he held me in his arms very tightly.
I seemed to be sleepy often but I was a light sleeper.
Knowing that he was beside me, I felt safe and fell into a slumber.
I heard him making a call on the balcony when I woke up.
His voice was not loud but I could discern it.
“She is not sick; she is just tired.” Dennis held his emotions. I couldn’t identify what the other person said.
The silhouette of the man gave a sense of loneliness and stubbornness, “There is no need to do so because I will protect her.”
The speaker at the other end seemed to be persuading Dennis, who remained silent for a while to restore his calmness.
“I won’t let her receive psychotherapy. She cannot bear it if she has to expose her agony in front of a stranger. And I wouldn’t like it either. I waited for four years before I reunited with her in the HL Area when Clarrie was her single comfort despite the overwhelming pain in her heart. I know what she is worried about and I will do anything to make her feel better.”
I rose and walked towards the balcony.
The voice was discernable now; it was Alex.
Impatiently, Alex said, “Yes, Dennis, you can do anything for her. But have you ever given a thought to those who also love and want to protect her? You are well aware that depression is not curable. She has devoted herself to Clarrie in the past four years and now she was triggered by even the possibility that the child might leave her. Has it ever occurred to you that Clarrie will leave when she grows up? What will you do then? Just let her become crazy?”
Smothering silence.
Shivering, Dennis replied in a quivering voice, “I will stay with her forever.”
Failing to persuade, Alex was upset, “Dennis, you are not doing good to her but doing harm.”