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CHAPTER SIX: AUGUST AND SEPTEMBER (NA-CHAN)

The nurse drew the austere blue curtain around him. Ranma settled into the chocolate brown leather chair and closed his eyes, shutting out the droning hums and clicks of the IV pump and the warm, steady tickle of carrier saline running through the veins in his left arm. He was at the infusion center for his six-month maintenance dose of rituximab, about half an hour in with about four hours left to go in the session. He was drowsy as always from the pre-meds, but he had a lot of time to think –specifically about the most recent bombshell of a revelation that had set everything in motion.

# # # ##

He and Nabiki were happy.

It was August now. An unexpected reprieve had come for them with the warm summer months. She had been called back to work the COVID unit only one other time after that month of nights and only for two weeks. Incidence and transmissibility figures in the region fell as the sickness and the dying moved inland and away from the cities.

Even from Bhutan, the ground reports were increasingly encouraging. A large portion of the rural clinic network that his team had been building was operational by this time. Across the small mountain country, though no one understood exactly why, the case numbers had also been in decline across the summer months. Backroom chatter strongly suggested that the authorities would move to ease restrictions within weeks in most districts with the exceptions of Gelephu, Phuentsholing, Samdrupjongkhar, and Samtse. A three-phase reopening plan was in the works, beginning with a lifting of local movement controls followed by resumption of intra-district travel by public transport at 50% capacity. A third phase would likely go into effect by the end of September. Offices would be allowed to resume functioning at capacity, and inter-district travel would be allowed to resume.

Some people were starting to talk about the end possibly coming within only a matter of months. Ranma began to believe them, and even Nabiki sounded increasingly hopeful. Several vaccines were in the pipeline with realistic hopes of something becoming available in record time - possibly the end of the year. Treatments were improving too. Remdesivir had just received an Emergency Use Authorization. Prone ventilation had now been adopted as a standard practice. Single-center evidence had emerged from Oxford that simple dexamethasone could reduce mortality in ICU patients by roughly 40%. Monoclonal antibodies were entering advanced phases of development as biologic therapies.

Of course, there had been the duds and snake oil of shameless opportunism too that inevitably came with any desperate time. Nabiki had been beside herself with rage when he had asked her about hydroxychloroquine. That was how he knew she was slowly becoming herself again in the aftermath of her stints on the COVID unit. She was again able to talk about medicine matters with passion.

"The whole thing is RUBBISH!" she had screamed. "The only reason the world is even talking about it is because of some fraudulent f-#cker of a bastard of a Frenchman in Marseille who wanted to steal a moment of fame to justify his whole life of mediocrity!"

Apparently, the Frenchman who had Nabiki on the warpath had treated 20 patients, censored the data from the five who actually died, and then reported only on the other 15 who improved. He had then submitted the report to some" desperate rag of a wanna-be journal." The NMPA had then noticed, made up some nonsense about having additional corroborating data, which of course, they could not produce or share, and then politicians all over the world had started drinking the proverbial KoolAid and selling the snake oil along with them.

A part of Ranma regretted even bringing up the topic. Another part, however, had actually been quite entertained by the vitriol of her tirade as she had balled her fists, stomped around like arampaging elephant, and howled like a banshee in his studio about it. He was reminded yet again that there could be no doubt that she was a Tendou and Akane's sister.

"These people are killing people for their own f-#-ing vanity!" she kept on raging. She was frustrated with her inability suddenly to access the medication for those who needed it for established indications. "Those who get suckered into taking that drug are going to die anyway on the premise of a lie. You might as well have everyone drink f-#-ing bleach! I hope that Frenchman rots in Hell a thousand times over, and I hope all those f-#-ing politicians get toxic tampons up their arses!"

"Toxic tampons up their a##es…?" he repeated with bewildered incredulity.

"Toxic tampons up their arses!" she resolutely affirmed.

Nabiki was definitely a crazy Jekyll-Hyde of a dragon, as profane as any actual Etonian brat in her finest moments, but she was /his /crazy dragon. For the first time in his life, he could concretely conceive of having someone beside him forever and always, of never having to be alone again. With Akane in his youth, it had been the unspoken theoretical future that was assumed would one day happen. With Nabiki now, it was all undeniably real and imbued in every aspect of the living present.

He knew by this time that she would one day be his wife. The comforting thought of this knowledge always made him smile without fail. They were talking more and more about their shared future together now, often on long lazy walks that they had begun to take on the weekends. He still had a residual shuffle in his gait, but thankfully no longer needed the crutch.

The only remaining uncertainties were how and when. The choice of ring was probably the most straightforward bit of it. For a lady whose tastes were Noguchi-style coffee tables and Kandinsky paintings, only a simple platinum band with a diamond in a simple solitaire setting would make sense. For some time now, a Tasaki-labelled box containing aTrapezio ring with a 1 carat diamond had been safely wrapped and tucked away in his freezer in a box marked "Stinky Tofu" to keep any potential prying eyes away. The execution, however, considering the limitations that the logistics of social distancing imposed on his venue options posed the actual challenge.

Late in the afternoon one Saturday, Nabiki asked him to take one of their walks to one of the neighbourhood parks around his place. He was comfortable now with the hinged carbon fiber AFO brace that she had suggested he be fitted for some months back. With it, his overall mobility was passably near-normal, and he could even drive again for short distances.

She had been unusually quiet and contemplative for most of the day. They came across a young mother pushing her young daughter on one of the swings. The child was maybe two or three at most. Nabiki studied them for a long time. The girl was squealing with obvious, unbridled joy and delight, saying over and over, "Faster, Mama, faster!" She was pretty with big cheeks and large luminous eyes framed by a bob haircut that made her look to Ranma somewhat like a miniature Nabiki.

She must have thought so too. "I wish my Mum could have been there for me," she said sadly as she rubbed at unshed tears forming in her eyes. "No one was there for me."

"Nabiki…?"

"My parents," she said. The tears were running down her cheeks now as visibly painful memories came back to her. "I want all of those moments she didn't get to have with me and all of those that he was too far gone to even notice. To be there to kiss and bandage up all the scraped knees. To be at that first piano recital. To cheer for them when they compete in sports. To hear about the first crush. To be at the graduations. To meet the person they choose to love and spend the rest of their lives with."

"I'm sorry, Nabiki," he said gently as he hugged her to try and comfort her. He was not sure why she was suddenly very emotional.

She read the confusion and the worry in his eyes and smiled despite herself. "I'm sorry for being like this," she said as she gently brushed her fingers against his cheek.

"It's okay, Nabiki. I – "

"I'm okay, Ranma. I'm just trying to tell you that I'm pregnant."

# # # ##

She had found out the day before. The confirmatory lab report had come that morning.

He found himself drowning in an immediate torrential deluge of his own feelings afterward. He had only recently begun to think of the idea of being a father, but he was nonetheless elated by the possibilities. He thought of the years of abuse and neglect that his own father had rained down on him. Like Nabiki, he too was determined to be different and do for his own child the things that were never done for him. Yet, though he had already long ago resolved to spend the rest of his life with her and he knew that she had too, he found himself feeling quite panicked and embarrassed that things had not exactly progressed in a more traditional order.

He knew that the moment was now and that he had to act.

"Um, would you like to have some stinky tofu?" he anxiously asked immediately after they got back to his apartment.

Nabiki turned white and looked like she would vomit. In a panic, he rushed to the freezer, tore open the stinky tofu package, and went down on one knee to offer her the simple pearl-grey Tasaki box.

"Will you marry me, Nabiki Tendou?" he asked, gazing up at the angelic silhouette of her beautifully framed in the ethereal glow of the setting sun.

She laughed at him through unrestrained tears despite herself. "Ranma?"

"Yes?" he asked nervously.

"You're offering me the contents of apackage of stinky tofu in exchange for spending the rest of my life with you…?!"

"Well, um…."

"Maybe, can we clean it up a little bit first? Before I say yes…?"

"Oh, sorry, I, uh – "

"No need to apologise. It's just that with the hormones and that smell, I think – "

She turned pale again with beads of sweat over her brow, unable to finish the thought as she desperately threw her hands over her mouth and ran to the sink. She barely made it before explosively ejecting the contents of her stomach.

# # # ##

Nabiki was standing in McElderry Circle waiting for him when he eventually staggered out of the outpatient center. He eagerly ripped off his sweaty mask to inhale the warm late-summer air. She smiled brightly when she saw him but kept the careful distance that he expected she would. He knew she had been in clinic while he had been upstairs in the chair. She was wearing her white coat over a fuchsia-colored satin blouse and simple black trousers. Dansko platform clogs gave her an additional two inches of height and brought her now almost to eye level with him. A doffed N95 and face-shield were hanging off her right arm.

Nabiki Tendou – or rather Na-chan as she was to him now — was his fiancée, and this time their engagement was for real. The awesome weight of this reality having actually come to pass washed all over him again, filling him with a renewed awareness of his all-encompassing joy. The brilliant Tasaki diamond on her left hand sparkled in the late afternoon sun, boldly and unapologetically proclaiming the truth of her heart and her feelings for him.

"Would you like to walk for aminute?" she asked.

He nodded.

She took his right hand in her left, leading him off the circle and up the promenade alongside the building. The dome of the old hospital was now looming at the top of the hill.

"I had some downtime to talk with him while my fellow was with the patient," she said, excitement now audible in her voice. "He'll do it. We just need to name the day and time."

“He” was Nabiki's old mentor, the world-renowned expert that the U.N. field office had arranged through HQ from him to see when the Medevac had been arranged from Paro now so long ago. She had explained to Ranma that some of the old masters were quietly ordained with non-denominational churches, primarily to be able to offer last rites in emergencies. It was, of course, not an advertised fact.

That night after he had proposed, the residual odor of the tofu finally eliminated after a prolonged bath in rubbing alcohol, Nabiki laid next to him in the darkness studying her ring and asked shyly if he would be amenable to a highly abbreviated engagement.

"I'm sure of you and my love for you," she said. "Besides, it would be nice to have pictures of us together as husband and wife before I start to show. We should also have some time to ourselves before we don't."

"How soon ya have in mind?"

Her answer shocked him. "I'd be fine with doing it next week if you are."

"Is that enough time to get fitted for a dress and all?"

"No need. We can just do this through the local magistrate. They do it virtually now. We just need to sign up for an online appointment with the court, which isn't hard."

He had somehow envisioned Nabiki wanting, even expecting, from him the style and elegance of even a small church wedding or the formal gravitas at least of a Shinto ceremony. He told her so. Secretly too, he had been daydreaming about how she would look dressed for the occasion.

To his surprise, his words elicited agentle chuckle in the darkness. "To be honest, Ranma, had anyone asked me even a year ago, I could never have imagined myself in a wedding dress. My life was busy, and I was content. I didn't seriously think I would ever marry until I found you again because I realised I just didn't need to. Besides, I just can't imagine throwing away all that money just for a single day in a whole lifetime."

"Sounds like what a groom would say," he mused.

She laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the bride, and times have changed, my dear Ranma."

He laughed with her.  "Seriously though. Ya sure ya don't want us to at least dress up a little? I'd like to buy ya a dress if you'd let me. I think we might look back and regret it if we didn't."

"Okay," she eventually said, quietly after a long moment of silence. "But you shouldn't buy for me."

He was happy that she eventually agreed.

"I'm surprised at you, though, Ranma," she added after a moment. "I actually thought you'd be relieved to forego the formalities."

"Some things are just that important, usually things that ya only get to do once," he told her.

Privately, he too was surprised by how traditional he found himself sounding. Traditions had done so much to destroy both of their families and had left them with so many scars. Yet, for reasons that he did not understand, he could not be at peace with the thought of not marrying her properly. He felt he owed her that somehow, even if she did not feel the same.

"One last thing," she added after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not changing my name. I was born Nabiki Tendou. I will live my life as Nabiki Tendou. I will die as Nabiki Tendou."

Ranma felt the smile on his face reaching up to the corners of his eyes. He would have expected no less of her.

# # # ##

Now nearly two weeks later they were here together in her living room holding hands under the shadow of her Kandinsky. Everything was bathed in the light of the early September morning sun pouring in from her east-facing windows overlooking the harbor. Ranma fought not to cry as he gazed back at her, her shimmering eyes staring back lovingly at him as she stood there in her shoulder-less ivory A-line wedding gown. A nearly 7-foot train was laid out behind her. The rose gold tama kanzashi tipped with the jade flower wrapped around a giant luminous pearl held her hair up in a simple, but elegant bun. Nabiki was more beautiful than he had ever seen her, the finest and most incredible of all people and all things that he had ever known in all his life.

"Uncle Jim," as Nabiki referred to him, was smiling too as he watched them and led them through their vows. His wise grandfatherly visage with his shock of grey hair and kindly face flush with rosacea filled in the largest panel of the virtual meeting application operating on the screen of her laptop. The touch of rhinophyma somehow made him seem all the more eminent and distinguished. Kasumi, Lisette, and another friend of Nabiki's named Erika Sato stood as witnesses. Their faces were visible in smaller inset panels off to the side.

"Repeat after me, Kiki," Uncle Jim was saying. "I, Nabiki Tendou, take you, Ranma Saotome…."

"I, Nabiki Tendou, take you, Ranma Saotome...," she started. The fine crystal edges of her elegant Oxbridge English tones rang sonorously in his ears, etching themselves into a new memory that would be with him now forever.

That same beautiful, angelic lady voice was the one that had cut its way through to him in that darkest of hours. She alone had come for him when it had once seemed that there was so little left to come for. He was back in that moment now when she had been asking for the flat white off the list menu and if the barista could keep the milk lukewarm to preserve its natural sweetness, but then politely offering that a latte would also do if it was too much trouble. She was standing there by his table all over again in her navy and grey plaid print overcoat, crème-colored knit turtleneck, heavy grey midi-length A-line wool skirt and black knee-length block high-heel leather boots and staring back at him across the cold and empty vastness of Time and Memory.

That emptiness was finally gone now, he realised. The vastness was instead filled in with a revelation of a great love. It was that which had given her the strength to be there for him and him for her then, now, always and - he knew with his whole being - even after forever.

… To be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our friendship and love you today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust you and honour you. I will laugh with you and cry with you. I will love you faithfully through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. What may come, I will always be there. As Ihave given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life to keep….

"So help me, God."

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss each other….” Just like that, it was done. The whole thing had  only taken two minutes and thirty-four seconds.

Nabiki was his wife.

"Ai shiteru, kimi no koto ga…." I love you, he whispered in Japanese, feeling warm tears rolling down his cheeks unrestrained as he kissed her for the very first time as her husband. In her presence, it no longer mattered to him if anyone saw him - man among men, one-time Heir to the Anything Goes School - cry.

"Watashi mo, itsumademo eien ni anata no koto wo… mamoru," was her reply.

 I will also always be here to protect you.