Chapter 135 - The Bloody Darned Thing (1/2)

Gabriel's mouth hangs open as he watches Claire offering herself to donate her blood. Suddenly he sees a different dimension of this woman. And if he'd known how Claire is so frightened of needles, he'd appreciate more the magnitude of this gesture.

”Are you sure about this?” he asks as they walk toward wherever the nurses are taking them.

”Are you serious, Gab? This is for Miguel. There's not even time for having second thoughts.” Yet, even as she says this, her mouth, her face is pale, like she's just trying to steel her resolve and ignore the buŧŧerflies in her stomach.

”Yeah, but…” Gabriel shrugs. He's about to say something, but in the end he chooses to keep quiet. Give the floor to Claire. He's useless, anyway. And between Claire doing this grand gesture and his guilt for having had a direct hand in Miguel's accident, Gabriel is in a bad place; he's almost at the end of his tether. His mind is unspooling, and his emotions are not helping, either. But he wills himself to keep it all together; this is not a time to panic.

Gabriel is made to wait in a small waiting area right outside a holding room. But he couldn't help it; he's worried about her, about his brother, and how the walls seem closing in. There's a small glass panel that allows him to see what's happening in the room, and he could see her, by a desk filling out some form. The nurse watches by, ready for any clarification Claire might have. Yet, Claire continues writing, answering the questions, never looking up.

After she's done with the form, the nurse informs her that she's checking some of her vitals, her blood pressure, et cetera. She nods, determined to see this through. Outside, she sees him, his face long from worry. She shrugs and smiles, as though telling him to take it a bit easy. He smiles back.

The nurse takes a few more minutes to get things in order. Finally, she ȧssists Claire on the bed, with a tray of contraptions on one side. The nurse starts setting up what looks like a bag of plastic attached on a tripod. The nurse proceeds in closely examining Claire's arm, maybe looking for a good vein. Bravely, Claire looks at what the nurse is doing, but when the nurse swabs that small place in her arm with alcohol-soaked cotton and prepares the needle, she finally looks away, bracing up for the inevitable. She again sees Gabriel outside the window. Gabriel makes a little wave, like some parent watching his child on the first day of school. Claire smiles weakly; her eyes tell him the same confusion he has.

”I love you,” Gabriel mouths out. She responds with the same. He nods, as though telling her it's alright. She smiles again. ”I will wait here,” he mouths again. She nods.

When Gabriel disappears from the window, Claire closes her eyes. She can feel that weird sensation, like her blood is flowing out. She turns to her side and sees the IV line running with her blood down to the bag, which is slowly filling up. In her mind, she tries to go to that special place: in her parents' farm somewhere in the north of the country, with its little fruit orchard, a barn full of animals, and its peaceful days. How many years has it been? Four? Five? She feels the ache of longing for how things were in her life, as the blood flows into the bag, ushering her to sleep.

Meanwhile, Gabriel is restless. He paces the floor outside the room. When the nurse comes out, he pounces on her with a question: ”How long is the extraction going to take?”

The nurse blinks upon seeing him. She consults her chart. ”Oh, Miss Monteverde? That should take about an hour, give or take.”

Gabriel looks at her watch and makes mental calculations. ”That long, huh?”

The nurse shrugs. ”We have no choice. If it's up to us, we'd need that blood as soon as possible.” A beat. ”Did the doctor mention that we actually need two bags of blood? We can only take one bag from her. While that might suffice for the mean time, we'd need more.”

”Jesus,” Gabriel mutters. ”And I can't donate my own blood.”

”Maybe ask your people, Mr. Tan,” a voice buŧŧs in, who turns out to be Miguel's doctor. ”We'd need to be sure. We can't get more than a bag of blood from Miss Monteverde. Normally we need two, but for contingency, getting three more bags of blood would take care of our present need, while the extra can be stored just in case your brother needs more.”

Gabriel gazes at the doctor and the nurse's faces. ”And we need them now, right?”

The doctor nods. ”Your brother's condition is stable, so far. We've run scans, and fortunately there are no contusions. He's not internally hemorrhaging. The only problem is the blood loss. We've also found elevated levels of alcohol in his blood, which worsened it.”

Gabriel looks around. It's not even morning yet; the sun is yet to rise in about an hour. ”Okay, Doc, please do what you can do. Give him the best possible care. I want nurses by his side at all times. One, no, I mean, two of your best nurses, for each of the three shifts every day.”

The doctor starts to protest. ”But that would be an unnecessary cost—”

”I don't care, Doc. Please keep him in your best equipped intensive care unit. I can't let anything bad happen to him, not on my watch.”