Chapter 100 - The Crying Lady (1/2)
Miguel gazes at her for a long time, saying nothing. Quietly, he leaves.
Claire doesn't even notice him; she's so deep into her crying she was no longer aware of the world around her. She just lets go. She remembers how Gabriel saved him from Jake Magno, and she cries. She remembers the crazy pool party, how they talked in that sun-kissed room in his mansion in the countryside, and she cries. She has known Gabriel for only about a couple of weeks, but she already feels as if she has known him all his life. And the mere possibility of Gabriel being suddenly taken away from her—the smallest possibility—and Claire feels like her world is caving in.
She doesn't realize she must have been crying for hours when a hand appears before her, bearing the gift of a Starbucks beverage. She looks up, and for a moment, in her blurry vision, she thinks it's Gabriel, but it's not—it's Miguel, whose resemblance to his brother may be too uncanny for comfort. Blink fast enough and you might mistake Miguel for his brother.
”Drink this,” Miguel says. ”I know I can't stop you if you want to bawl your eyes out, but at least don't kill yourself.”
She mutters ”Thank you” as she accepts the coffee. She sips it; the caffeine throbs in her head. Only then she realizes she must be famished.
Miguel sits down beside her. ”How is it?”
”How do you mean?”
”Has the doctor returned yet?”
She shakes her head softly. ”I've seen nothing.”
”You know what,” he suddenly says. ”Instead of crying here and being totally helpless, how about we do something crazy?”
Her brow creases.
”Let's say 'fuck it' and slip into that room. I'll let you hold Gabriel's hand as much as you want.”
”Are you serious?” Claire's voice is hoarse, as though all the crying has scratched her throat dry. ”What about his illness?”
”They've administered antibiotics on him, right? That should make him fine. And we'll be careful. For starters, wash your hands with alcohol.”
”But I don't have—” she begins to say, but she stops as Miguel produces a small bottle of alcohol from his pocket. The man offers it to her with a smile. ”You've thought this through, haven't you?”
”Anything just to stop you from crying your lungs out,” he says, with a sheepish grin. ”You're driving me crazy.”
She smiles. She pours almost half the contents of the alcohol bottle on her hands, thinking about what the doctor said about infection and all that stuff. She hands the alcohol back to Miguel. ”You, too.”
”But I don't intend to hold Gabriel's hand. Why me, too?”
”Still. Better safe than sorry.”
Reluctantly, Miguel takes the alcohol and does the same.
She stands up and peers into the small glass window. ”Would those nurses let us in?”
Miguel stands beside her. ”Let me take care of it.” He opens the door; all the three nurses in the room gaze at him in shock.