In the fruit bowl were Winifred Dawson’s favorite strawberries and cherries. Instead of eating, she picked up a cup of hot water and took small sips. Her lips, moistened by the water, turned slightly red, and she felt a bit more refreshed.
“Mrs. Protich, do you think Leland Burns is really dead?”
Winifred Dawson rarely brought up Leland Burns on her own. Last night she mentioned him once, and this morning she brought him up again, always circling around the topic of “Leland Burns is dead.” Was this concern or indifference? Mrs. Protich didn’t want to delve into it.
Last night, Mrs. Protich had dreamt of Leland Burns and simply said, “Everyone has their fate.”
These four words indicated that Mrs. Protich had accepted Leland Burns’ death.
Although Winifred Dawson hadn’t seen Leland Burns’ body, she had seen the death certificate, which confirmed he was no longer in this world. Yet, there was always a voice in her heart telling her that Leland Burns wasn’t dead, leaving her unable to find peace and living in fear of an uncertain future.
The fruit in the tray remained untouched from morning till noon.
That morning, Winifred Dawson had vomited for reasons unknown. When Mrs. Protich prepared lunch, she was extremely cautious, fearing that something she made would cause Winifred Dawson to vomit again.
Despite her good temperament, Winifred Dawson didn’t get angry or blame Mrs. Protich when she vomited.
She lay weakly on the small sofa on the balcony.
Mrs. Protich made a very light lunch that day. Winifred Dawson ate without vomiting this time and felt fine in the evening as well; after eating, she went back to sleep.
Thinking everything was fine now, Mrs. Protich was surprised when Winifred Dawson continued to vomit intermittently over the next few days, mainly in the mornings. Sometimes even a glass of milk would make her throw up.
In just two weeks, Winifred Dawson had lost more weight; walking by the seaside, it seemed like the sea breeze could blow her away.
Initially, Mrs. Protich didn’t pay much attention to it, assuming Winifred Dawson just had a weak stomach and tried to adjust her diet accordingly with suitable meals for someone with gastric issues.
Having suffered from mild gastric problems herself before, Mrs. Protich knew how painful it could be when hungry-like needles pricking inside the stomach.
Besides gastric issues, she suspected Winifred Dawson might be suffering from malnutrition and low blood sugar.
Every time after vomiting, Winifred Dawson would gasp for air with cold sweat dripping from her forehead like beads. Each time after vomiting, she would lie on the sofa with her eyes closed for a long time.
Several times Mrs. Protich worried that she might faint.
No matter how nutritious the food was, if one had a bad stomach and vomited everything out without absorbing any nutrients, it would still be a problem for the body.
Looking at Winifred Dawson’s slender arms made Mrs. Protich feel heartache. Winifred Dawson was born beautiful-a rare beauty in this world-even if thin, people couldn’t help but feel pity upon seeing her.
Her face was pale as gold paper compared to her past self; now she was so thin that she looked somewhat out of shape.
From what Mrs. Protich had seen alone, Winifred Dawson had vomited no less than thirty times; if this continued any longer, something serious would happen sooner or later.
Mrs. Protich urged Winifred Dawson to go to the hospital for a checkup.
“Miss Dawson, you should see a doctor. I see you vomiting so badly; getting some medicine or even an IV drip at the hospital might help.”
“But I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Besides vomiting, there were no other symptoms-just fatigue and constant drowsiness whenever she touched a pillow.
Winifred Dawson was very resistant to hospitals-not because she didn’t care about her health; she feared death too. She tried to eat every meal that Mrs. Protich prepared for her; sometimes she vomited but mostly kept it down in her stomach-yet her body wouldn’t gain weight.
Winifred Dawson began to suspect if she had some terminal illness; the more afraid she became, the less courage she had to visit the hospital-fearing she’d receive news she least wanted to hear.
Finally getting rid of Leland Burns and seeing good days ahead only to fall ill at this time-wasn’t it laughable? Did death mean being entangled with Leland Burns?
Thinking about this made Winifred Dawson’s face turn grim.
Mrs. Protich sat beside her and held her slender wrist: “Look how thin you’ve become recently; many serious illnesses start as minor ones accumulated over time-there are plenty who drag gastric issues into gastric cancer. If you don’t see a doctor now, will you wait until it’s too late? There’s no regret medicine in this world.”
Winifred Dawson lowered her head as if contemplating something.
Mrs. Protich released her hand and continued persuading: “Listen to me-go see a doctor; don’t worry-I’ll accompany you.”
Winifred Dawson looked up with a mosquito-like voice: “You’ll go with me?”
“Miss Dawson don’t find me annoying-I’m concerned about you; you’re still young-health is most important.”
Having someone accompany her eased her fear of visiting the hospital.
Hearing Mrs. Protich’s straightforward concern warmed Winifred Dawson’s empty heart slightly-it felt less restless now.
“Okay,” Winifred Dawson agreed.
Saying they’d go meant going-but it was already noon today-a bit late; so Winifred Dawson booked an appointment online for tomorrow morning to avoid queuing up.
Not knowing which department to book under-she asked Mrs. Protich for advice.
“I see you’ve been vomiting lately-book gastroenterology; do you have any other symptoms?”
Upon mentioning it-Winifred Dawson listed quite a few things-including missing periods recently.
Suddenly an idea struck Mrs. Protich-could Winifred Dawson be pregnant?
When pregnant herself back then-with better health-she didn’t experience morning sickness-just some backache-and good appetite-with rest at home being enough care needed.
Analyzing Winifred’s condition carefully-vomiting at smells-loss of appetite-fatigue-and missed periods for over three months…
This situation…
“Miss Dawson-you might be pregnant.”
Winifred froze momentarily before showing slight panic while forcing a stiff smile: “Impossible-I can’t be pregnant-it’s impossible.”
Denying three times straight made Mrs. Protich even more suspicious seeing such rejection from her side too quickly too firmly too often…
Exhaling deeply while considering possibilities-it wasn’t entirely impossible given that on April 15th-that day when Leland took her to church without any protection afterward nor did she take any medication…
Under normal circumstances-it could happen…
Why say “normal” though? Because back then-with recent egg retrieval procedure done-her body wasn’t like ordinary people’s condition…
“How can you be so sure? Did anything happen between you two?”
Not wanting further explanation-for those past events were huge stains on life itself-to speak out such humiliating matters…
“Anyway-I can’t be pregnant.”
Avoiding direct answers only raised more doubts confirming something indeed happened between them before…
No longer pressing further: “Let’s just book internal medicine first for thorough checkup.”
Nodding slightly while slumping onto sofa tightly clenching fists over abdomen…
Unthought-of matters now reminded increasingly concerned…
Searching pregnancy symptoms online matched most except weight loss resembling hepatitis B…
Rather accept hepatitis B than pregnancy…
Another way involved buying test kits checking herself whether pregnant or not…
Ordering pregnancy test kits via phone delivery taking nearly an hour…
Anxiously waiting seated on sofa unaware certain ears already heard about ordering pregnancy test kits…
Upon arrival secretly taking kit into bathroom without letting anyone know sitting reading instructions following steps needing some waiting time…
During which trembling hands avoided looking finally raising kit after five minutes revealing results…
One line… Two lines… Two lines indicated presence of child inside…
“Plop”-the sound echoed as kit dropped onto floor…
Mind blank wanting picking fallen kit fingers almost touching recoiling like startled…