Page 115 - FATE & DESTINY
P. 115

FATE & DESTINY

               Choki shivered and snuggled up beside me. So, I brought a blanket from her bed and wrapped her in it.
            At 2:30 am, our baby cried, so I rocked him until he went back to sleep.
               The next morning, the two mothers were feeding their babies on the laps. The other two men—whom
            I supposed to be their husbands—were gone.
               I rubbed my eyes and said, “Kuzu zangpo, Aunty.”
               They nodded and smiled at me.
               “Where’d your husband go?”
               The woman in blue tego said, “They went to get breakfast.”
               The two men returned with tea and bread.
               “Breakfast, sir?” said the guy with curly hair.
               “Thanks,” I said. “We’re not hungry. I am Dorji. And you’re?”
               “I am Taupo. What do you do?”
               “I am a teacher at Kerong Community Primary School.
               “Where is Kerong?”
               “Nganglam.” I turned to the thin guy. “And your name, please?”
               “Naku.”
               “What happened to your babies?”
               “There is a hole in his heart,” said Naku.
               “My baby was prematurely born,” said Taupo.
               I clucked my tongue.
               At eight past fifteen, the pediatrician arrived.
               “Can you explain her delivery?” she asked.
               I stood. “You mean—?”
               “How long did she take to deliver the baby?”
               “She prolonged her delivery. And crossed her due date.”
               She wrote on the prescription but didn’t explain to us the disease. And we, too, didn’t ask her.
               The baby didn’t improve even after three days. His abdomen girth increased. On the fifth evening, his
            abdomen measured forty-two centimeters.
               “It was 38 mm, last night,” I said. “How come it increased?”
               “You should ask the doctor when she comes for the round,” said the nurse.
               My heart thudding, I paced the room forth and back the whole evening.
               The pediatrician arrived at 9:00 pm. “How’s the baby doing?”
               The nurse said, “Temperature—105 Fahrenheit, heart rate—180 bpm, and abdomen girth—42 cm.”
               The pediatrician prescribed on the sheet. “I think we should keep the baby under observation for a few
            more days. It’s a complicated case.”
               “Oops.” I shook my head. “What-so-ever you decide, doctor.”
               Choki and I scrimped on fast foods. After the pediatrician had left, I scurried to a canteen and returned
            with two plates of dumplings.
               “Where have you been?” asked Choki.
               “To buy some dumplings for you,” I replied, spreading the silver-foil wrapper. “Please have it.”
               She turned to the other two mothers. “Please have it.”
               They took a piece each. I took a few.
               After everyone went to sleep, I tuned into 90 FM, the BBS, on my Motorola RAZR-V3s. Listening to
            the songs, I wiped off the remorseful tears. “God, why is this happening to me? What have I done?”
               At 7:00 am, cooks shouted, “Breakfast! Breakfast!”
               “Breakfast, sir,” said Naku, picking up his steel plate and mug.
               “I am not hungry,” I said, “but can you get tea for my wife, please?”
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