I look up to see Warren slowly walking towards me. He is early. He is wearing dark blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt, a very relaxed look compared to what I have seen him wear before.

“Hey babe,” he mumbles as he sits on the bench next to me.

“Hey.” I pause. “Sorry for what I am about to say.”

“Go on.”

I take a deep breath. “My now ex-fiancé has an STI. He has been sleeping with someone else. You need to get checked out.”

“Oh my, are you okay? Have you been checked out?” He questions.

“I’ll be fine. I am off to get checked after I talk to you,” I state.

“Right, it is at the hospital?” He enquires.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I just noticed you have a pot on your foot,” he says, pointing down at my foot. “Why?”



“You are full of questions, aren’t you? I fell down the stairs,” I tell him.

“You can’t drive then,” he adds in a concerned voice.

“Correct.”

“Let me take you to the hospital. We can talk and you can explain the full story.”

“But...”

“No buts.” He pauses. “Come on.”

I stand up and hobble towards his car. Warren holds open the door as I climb in, then closes it behind me before jumping into the driver’s seat.

“Now, please tell me all that has happened. It has been what two days since I left you here? You seem so different now.”

“Different?” I question.

“Yes, not bubbly.”

“Too much is going on. I’ll be back to myself soon, I hope,” I state.

The journey to the hospital is not far. I sit and answer every question. Warren has to hear the entire story about my ankle and Rich. He sits there silent in shock as I try to hold back the tears.

As we pull up into the hospital car park, I suddenly begin to feel sick.

“Let me out!” I yell.

Warren stops the car. “What?”

I jump out and run to the grassy area to throw up. Oh my. I have never thrown up this bad. Ever. Well, not that I can recall. After reading through the leaflets Rich gave me, vomiting was listed as one of the possible symptoms. I slide myself down onto the roadside, place my head into my hands and sit there crying. Crying like I have never cried before. I feel Warren’s arms wrap around me pulling me close. I am so close that I can smell his cologne, a sweet smell, one I have never smelled before. In his comfort, I manage to slow down my breathing as the tears gradually begin to fade.

“You need to get this over with, go home and rest,” he whispers in my ear.

“Being sick is one of the symptoms,” I inform him.

“You never know, babe.” He places a little butterfly kiss on my cheek.

“I am so scared. I have lost everything. I just hope I don’t have a disease on top of it.” I pause. “I don’t want to.”

“Want to what?” He enquires.

“Oh, forget it,” I say, shaking my head.

“Tell me,” he says, taking hold of my hand and rubbing little circles to calm me.

“I don’t want to lose something that might change my life for the better.”



“I hope you don’t either, babe.” He pauses. “Shall we do this?”

I nod, standing up. I wobble and Warren catches me. “Don’t be falling on me, babe.” He giggles.

“I hope I don’t fall. I’m still hurting from the last one,” I state, rubbing the dust from my bum.

“I will protect you as much as you will let me, Jen,” Warren says, turning to face me. “Let’s do this.”

We walk into the hospital side by side, straight into the lift and up to the right ward. Warren takes care of everything. He talks to the receptionist, who then gives us an identification number and a form to fill out. I hobble over to the waiting area to fill out the form.

“It will soon be over,” Warren whispers in my ear. I think he noticed my hand shaking as I was writing.

I face him and give him a delicate smile. “I know. Thank you.”

Leaving me in the waiting area, Warren takes the filled out forms to the reception desk. I watch him lean over the desk and admire his bum. What a view. Those jeans are nice and tight. I giggle to myself. Stop it, Jennifer. Behave yourself.

He turns to face me and places his hand up with all five fingers showing before heading off with one of the nurses. I sit there shaking even more than I had before. I cannot believe I am alone, again.

“ID Number 0504, please go to the reception desk,” the tall lady at the desk shouts. That’s me. I stand and walk over to the desk.

“Hi, just follow me,” she says. On the way down to the room, she explains the procedure is a simple blood test with nothing to be worried about. I am happy I can cope with needles.

She was right. In and out in two minutes. I hobble back to the waiting room. Looking around, I do not see Warren anywhere. I feel tears starting to collect in my eyes. He left me. I shake my head, take a deep breath and walk out of the waiting room to the lift and down to the front desk on the first floor.


I do not need him. He never said he would be back or what I should do once I finished the procedure. I will call for a taxi to take me back to Megan’s.