I scanned the room, my attention catching a folder at the end of the bed.
“My medical records,” Tatiana answered before I asked. “I thought they might be helpful.”
They would. It would save me having to play doctor.
“Can I have a look at your nails?”
She held out her hand and I came to sit beside her on the bed. Anton, not to be left out, climbed back on and crawled over to us.
Tatiana’s nails were the same as they had been the day before. The beds a cloudy grey color. Discoloring was often a symptom of poisoning, whether the tongue, lips or nails.
“When did you…” I glanced at Anton. Should he be hearing this?
“He’s fine,” Tatiana said. “I fell sick a couple of months ago, quite rapidly. It felt like it happened overnight.”
“What were your first symptoms?”
“I felt like I had a cold at first,” she explained. “I was pregnant, so I chalked it up to first trimester illness. But then…I got worse.”
I double-checked her lips and tongue, both still a flushed pink color. If not for her nails, Tatiana didn’t show any other signs of poisoning. But my gut instinct had been poison and gut instincts were usually correct.
“I know this might sound stupid, but did you try any new foods? Or eat anything you didn’t see prepared?”
Tatiana shook her head. “Usually, we go out to restaurants. But we have been lying low since coming to New York. I’ve been eating exclusively home-cooked meals since February.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “Have you been eating a lot of red meat?”
Her brows furrowed. “What?”
“Well, gray nails are a symptom of zinc poisoning.” I gave her hand back. “A small amount is good for you, but too much can be dangerous.”
“Konstantin would never feed us anything but the best,” she replied. “And I tested negative for zinc poisoning.”
Anton had grown bored with us and buried his face into Tatiana’s swollen belly, muttering something about his baby sister.
I wasn’t sure what was wrong with Tatiana. If she had been poisoned with arsenic or something just as common, the symptoms would be a lot more obvious. From rashes, diarrhea and hyper pigmentation.
Maybe it was silver poisoning? But why would a wealthy woman in the States be exposed to large amounts of silver, and only have gray nails to show?
“What are your other symptoms?” I asked.
“Exhaustion, coughing, joint aches…” Tatiana trailed off. “Though, the doctors can never decide what is a symptom of pregnancy or my illness.”
Treating her would be difficult. Pregnant woman couldn’t have certain medicines or else they risked the life of their baby.
“And the baby?” I asked. “It’s growing normally?”
“She’s a bit small,” Tatiana said. “Anton was a lot bigger at this stage, but she is growing steadily.” Her eyes suddenly grew wide and Anton lifted his head up in delight, “Mama, she kicked!”
Tatiana grabbed my hand. “Do you want to feel?” She didn’t wait for my answer and pressed my palm to her swollen stomach.
Within seconds, I felt a sharp pressure against my hand. Like someone had given me a little punch.
The word flourishing skidded through my brain.
“Oh,” I yanked my hand out of Tatiana’s grip. “She seems fine.”
“Dmitri and I are calling her Nikola,” she said affectionately, rubbing her round stomach. “It’ll be so nice to have a girl.”
“Sister Nika,” cooed Anton, pressing his face into Tatiana’s stomach once again. “Nika, Nika!”
Deep in my gut, I felt a pit begin to form.
Tatiana meant something to the people around her. People loved her and needed her.
If she died…
I leaped to my feet, the movement so startling Tatiana, and Anton jumped. “I’m going to go and read your file. Just, uh, let me know if anything changes.”
Her warm eyes assessed me, seeing something I didn’t want to show. “Thank you for helping me.”
Trying to help, I wanted to correct. Trying, because I have no fucking clue what is wrong with you and I don’t want to be the reason your son is an orphan. Or left alone with Dmitri.
Instead, I grabbed the file, said an empty goodbye, and quickly left. Anton’s jubilant voice followed me out.
In the hallway, I leaned against the wall, breathing deeply.
What had I gotten myself into? What was I doing?
I had never been the most caring person alive, never been the one to give up the last piece of cake or stand up for old ladies on the bus. But that sick woman…
I could feel the walls caving in, the floor rising, the roof pressing