Chapter 134 - The Terrible, Terrible Thing (1/2)
Upon hearing Dale, something snaps in Gabriel's head, and instantly he's a man transformed. He yells for the doctor, who happens to be the person standing beside him. The male nurses all act in coordinated movement, putting Miguel on the stretcher. They quickly wheel him into the hospital, with the doctor barking orders to the nurses for the drugs to prep as they run toward the nearest emergency room slot.
Gabriel's head is spinning as he watches the scene unfold. He's like having an out-of-body event, his soul watching his body watching his brother getting intubated, getting shocked back to life, receiving all sorts of meds to resuscitate him. And in all of it, what's striking is the amount of blood seeping out of his brother, and yet he couldn't even locate Miguel's injury. As if Miguel's entire head is bleeding.
Claire has stopped crying. She feels as if she's lost all her tears. Her throat is parched, like she has lost her voice. She gives Gabriel space, but she stays beside him to make him feel that she's always there. That she will not leave him.
”Please give us space,” the doctor yells to no one in particular, but it is of course directed at them. Gabriel takes a step back, reaching out for Claire's hand.
She wants to tell him Miguel's going to be fine, but somehow, right now, words feel cheap, wanting. As though there are no words that could describe this moment, here in this emergency room, Gabriel's brother fighting for his life on that flimsy little hospital bed.
The sound of the machine indicates that Miguel has flat-lined. The doctor gives his nurses a meaningful look, then makes a gesture that says they're going to again defibrillate him. He counts quietly, then pumps a considerable amount of energy into Miguel's ċhėst, which heaves, then falls. The doctor performs CPR on the patient, but still, the machine beeps steadily. Again, the electric paddle of the defibrillator is applied. Miguel's ċhėst heaves, then falls, then heaves, then falls. The doctor waits; his eyes look steadily at the monitor beside them.
Then for a maddening moment, as though a miracle, the flat line quivers, a single tiny beep, followed by another, then another, until the beating becomes regular. Weak, but at least there it is.
The room exudes a collective sigh of relief. But the doctor has just started. He turns to Gabriel. ”Sir, we'd have to ask you to wait outside. We need to perform emergency surgery on him. He must have lost a lot of blood.”
Gabriel only nods his head distractedly, still trying to process what just happened. Miguel was lost and was back from the darkness in a span of a few moments, and everything seems happening so quickly.
They stand in the lobby of the hospital, which at this hour was mostly empty, cavernous.
”Sir, do you need anything?” Dale asks. ”Coffee?”
”Sorry,” Gabriel snaps out of it. ”Don't mind me. I'm fine. Claire, you might want to go back to your place? You don't need to stay here. Dale can go with you.”
Claire shakes her head. ”No, I'm staying here. I won't leave you.” She gives him a warm, desperate embrace. And just like that, Gabriel starts crying; it starts with a quiet sniffle, then he collapses in Claire's arms. Something inside him has broken down, and he just lets it all go.
Dale looks away, trying to stop his tears, too. This is the first time he's seen Gabriel this vulnerable, and it's awkward and painful to see.
Claire wants to cry, too, but she steels herself and stifles her own tears, trying to act as the stronger person here. Gabriel is a drowning man, and she can't let both of them tumble down into this dark abyss.
After a while, Dale quietly walks away. He understands finally. After all, there's still trouble at The Residence and he might be needed there; he'll be more useful there. Gabriel and Claire need space for themselves, and his presence is probably just a distraction.
Gabriel has been crying because in his head, a lifetime of memories with his brother parade themselves in his mind's eye: how it was Miguel who often stood up to schoolyard bullies, saving his older brother's ȧss countless times; how Miguel looked after him, which was odd because he was supposedly the younger one; how he had always given way to Gabriel, even ignoring his own needs and feelings. Years of memories, all heartbreakingly good.
Gabriel couldn't still wrap his head around the fact of Miguel's sudden transformation. He used to be a cool guy, aware of his power and his charm and used his qualities to seduce women. Why would he fall so hard for the very woman he also loves? Isn't this a strange twist of fate? Probably a joke from whoever's crafting their destinies, but these thoughts leave bitter tears. Worse, technically, it was him who almost killed Miguel. Killed. His life snuffed out, just like that. And because of what? A madness, which Gabriel could really understand from the bottom of his heart, because he'd been in that place, too, not too long ago. Only he was the more fortunate one.
He breathes in Claire's scent and somehow, slowly, clarity returns in his head. She's still here. She's still in his arms. And Miguel has returned to life, if only by a thread—Gabriel tenaciously hangs on to these positive things to help him find his center, to feel his way around this maddening moment.