Chapter 13

The next day, I met Wendy after work.

I had thought over it throughout the night. I asked myself a few thousand times who I really loved and I got the same answer. I would confess to Wendy.

The moment Wendy saw me, she leaped and hugged me. She said that she was worried about me and scolded me. I consoled her, telling her a hundred times that I was fine. That I had accidentally rejected her call in my half-conscious state.

She accepted my reason without reservation. She had always trusted me. When we went to a restaurant, I took out my handphone, looked at Lara’s picture for a while before I turned to Wendy and said, “Hey, actually…”

I had rehearsed my speech a few times in the office. I had even predicted her reaction: Shock, anger and then acceptance. Wordlessly, I prayed for a minute flare-up from her.

“Yesterday, I-” My handphone rang. Great timing. I flipped it opened without looking at who had called me. Whoever it was, I thanked him or her.

It was Lara.

She told me she was not feeling well. She had rushed home immediately after work and had vomited three times in total. Her headache was killing her. “I’m feeling like… shit.” she said. I could tell that from her weak and throaty voice.

I peeked at Wendy who was looking at her reflection with the big spoon. I nodded at her, pointed to my phone, said “Hold on” to Lara and walked out of the restaurant.

“Is there fever?” I asked. I had known long ago that if there is fever, then it means a virus attack. Either it is flu or some other viral infection.

“Yes… I said it just now…”

Her voice was dry and she had used almost all her energy to mouth every word. Should I go back to Wendy, confess and then go find Lara? But upon confessing to Wendy, there was bound to be some conflicts and arguments which would take more than an hour…

“Have you taken Panadol?”

“No Panadol at home.” she said. I could hear her loud breathing.

I shilly-shallied for about two seconds. “Look, you stay there, okay? I’ll try to be there as soon as possible.”

“Buy Panadol.” she said and the line went dead.

I almost ran back to Wendy. Our food had come and Wendy was waiting for me. She showered some pepper into my soup and poured chilli sauce on my fries. That was so… wifely. “I…” I said, paused to take a sip of the soup. Perfect. “Let’s tuck in.” I said.

People do not die from fever, right?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the end, I failed to confess to Wendy.

I was close a couple of times. When we had finished our meals, we went out and when I dragged my cigarette, I felt a new burst of courage. I said, “There’s something I’d like you to know.”

“Yes?”

“There’s… no more feeling.” I said. It was the starter for my confession.

“Then we’ll create more feelings.” she answered me, almost indifferent to my choice of words. “By the way, I can’t meet you tomorrow. My brother-in-law has got dengue fever. Gotta visit him tomorrow.” When my phone rang again, I told Wendy I was tired. I sent her home first before taking a taxi to Lara’s house.

It had been more than two hours since Lara’s outbreak of fever. And in the two hours, I was a wimp, failing to confess to Wendy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When I reached Lara’s house, the door was locked. I called her.

“There’s… key. Plant, smallest pot, under. Open the door. Gosh.”

I could sense the urgency in her breaking voice. I reached for the hidden key, opened the door and looked around. It had been six years since I had been to her house. The LCD television was still there. Those photos of her mother and her were still lining up on the tables.

I dashed to her room. She was covered in a blanket. Even with the blanket, she was shivering. On the side of her pillow was her handphone. I stepped forward and she did not even sense my presence. It definitely did not look like a typical fever.

“Are you okay?” I whispered. I wanted to touch her forehead but she flipped her body away from me and then flipped back, moaning. She was hugging a very big soft toy that looked like a cat without a mouth.

“Got the Panadol?” she said.

I gave her two pills and slotted the thermometer into her mouth. Then, I opened the window to allow more fresh air to enter the room. “Where’s your mother?” I asked.

She did not answer. Actually, she could not answer. There was the thermometer in her mouth. I took it out, checked the temperature and gasped. There could be a mistake. I slotted it into her mouth again and stroked her forehead. It felt like some hotplate.

When the reading of 42.1 Degree Celsius appeared on the digital screen of the thermometer again, I dialled 995.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I had never been to the Accident & Emergency Department at National University Hospital before.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes after my call and sent Lara to National University Hospital. Lara, by the time we reached the hospital, was half-conscious. She was muttering things that did not make sense. She said she was losing some money and then said some soccer players in the English Premier League asked her out. Finally, she told one of the nurses that Bill Gates called her yesterday to ask her to star in his latest movie.

“She’s slipping in and out of consciousness.” one of the nurses – or doctors – explained. It was hard to deduce consciousness when a high fever had set in.

“Will she be okay?” I asked the nurses. I did not get an answer: They got into some room and I was asked to wait outside.

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