Chapter 137 - The Warm Bodies

It's already morning proper when Mrs. Gomez reaches the hospital. It took her just a minute to find Gabriel, sitting alone in the small waiting area outside the ICU.

"You don't look like you've had at least a cup of coffee, Mr. Tan," she says, trying to smile. "Would you like me to go and fetch one for you?"

Gabriel sighs. "Thank you, I'm fine. And thank you for coming here."

Mrs. Gomez takes the seat next to him. She gazes around, as though looking for someone. "How's Miguel?"

"He's fine. At least his vitals are stable. He's asleep. We're all just waiting for the blood."

"What the hell happened to him?"

Gabriel looks at her, sadness in his eyes. "You are aware of Miguel's thing for Claire, right? You've witnessed it."

The moment she hears "Miguel" and "Claire" in the same sentence, Mrs. Gomez is struck with an epiphany; she instantly connects the dots. The memory of that moment in Gabriel's office, where she egged Claire to tell Miguel the truth even if it hurt, flashes in her head. Is this her fault? "I think I am very dimly aware of any of that, Mr. Tan, if ever that existed, that thing," she stammers.

"Well, the thing was, we had a fall-out recently, Miguel and I, because he tried to do a bad thing to her."

"What? Like what kind of a bad thing?"

Gabriel pauses, weighing his words. "He tried to jump on her the other day. Right in the office building."

"He did what?" Blood has left Mrs. Gomez's face. Again, her brain connects the dots; the other morning was when Miguel visited the office—did the attack happen right after that? Jesus Henry Christ! "Oh, my God, how's Claire? Was she hurt?"

"Thankfully, she was able to defend herself and escape. And I didn't know any of that until last night. Or maybe it was all my fault because I had been in denial. I should have listened to the clues. I thought Miguel would get over her when he sees that she's with me. But I was dead wrong."

Mrs. Gomez obviously hangs on his every word. She feels guilty somehow; she has always loved juicy gossip, but inside that room is Miguel hanging on for dear life, and she feels sort of ashamed that her eagerness to find out what had transpired bordered on salaciousness. And yet. "And then what? Did he attack her again?"

"Not exactly that." Gabriel proceeds in retelling what transpired, down to the last detail, when he discovered, to his shock, that he had caused Miguel's accident. He sniffles, although he tries not to cry in front of her.

"I'm really sorry," she says. "We'll all get through this. This will be over like a bad dream, and then you'll be happy and Miguel will finally be happy and Claire…Wait, where is she?"

"She's over there," he says, nodding in the general direction of the adjacent corridor. "She's still having her blood extracted." Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose. "I should be there, holding her hand. But then I think I should be here, because Miguel's in a more serious situation. I don't know what to do."

"Poor boy," Mrs. Gomez says, reaching out for his hand. She could pass off as his mom. "You know what, I'll go over there and find Claire. She needs a friendly face, too. Although that girl of yours has so much spunk in her, I don't think she'd need a companion in this situation. But yeah, I'll find her. You stay here. I have been ȧssured Miguel is getting the best possible care in this hospital."

"Please," he says. "Thank you."

"Don't worry, we'll get through this, Mr. Tan," she says, standing up. "I will make sure of that."

Mrs. Gomez is thinking in terms of minutes, seconds. She just doesn't want to alarm him, but even if Miguel is considered stable for now, he direly needs blood transfusion. Gabriel has always been emotionally immature, and he tends to regress into some childlike form whenever Mrs. Gomez is around. And the grand madam, in turn, acts like his surrogate mother, overly protective of him, anticipating his needs, thinking ahead.

She looks at her watch and takes note of the time. Dale and whoever is volunteering to donate blood should be on their way by now. They have to be tested quickly when they arrive; they must be processed orderly. They must not waste even a second of time.

Mrs. Gomez follows her nose, instinctively finding Claire in a holding room. She's in bed, her left arm by her side, attached to a tube flowing into a bag on a low table. The bag is almost half-filled with her blood. The sight of it makes Mrs. Gomez's hackles rise; she's never overcome her aversion to blood, which makes her feel faint in the worst of times. But she looks away and avoids gazing at the bag of blood.

Claire's eyes are closed; with all this blood coming out of her, she must feel woozy, Mrs. Gomez thinks. Quietly, she enters the room; the sole nurse had just walked outside, reading off a chart, off to the nurse station probably. She takes the seat by the bed and watches Claire, waiting for her to stir, wondering if Claire's truly asleep or just waiting for the dizziness to wash over.

The nurse returns and smiles upon seeing her. "Good morning, Ma'am, are you her mother?"

"Oh, no, I—" Mrs. Gomez begins to say, but realizes why the hell not? "Yes, I'm her mom. How's she? How's my darling baby daughter?"

"How sweet," the nurse grins. "She's fine, Ma'am, and we're almost done. We're only taking about 400 milliliters of blood from her. She only needs to drink a glass of water and rest for a few minutes, then she can go on and enjoy the rest of her day."

"I don't think enjoyment is still on the menu for today," Mrs. Gomez says. "This blood is for her crazy suitor, who got into a gruesome accident because he tried to attack her."

"Oh my God!" The nurse covers her mouth with her chartboard. "Is it true?"

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Gomez says. "And now the suitor's brother, who happens to be her fiancé, is in a terrible dilemma, because he was the one who caused the accident in trying to defend her." She shrugs. "Unbelievable what men will do for love."

"He what? Her fiancé is..and then the suitor…" The nurse's brow knits in maximum confusion in trying to make sense of the story. But by then Claire stirs from her short nap; she blinks, sees Mrs. Gomez beside the bed.

"You're here?"

"And good morning to you, too," Mrs. Gomez says. "How are you feeling, Claire?"

She tries to get up, but the room seems to spin. The nurse promptly hands her a glass full of water; she had just finished removing the needle from Claire's arm, stashing away the bag of blood in a sealed box.

"Drink it, it will help you regain your bearings," the nurse says. Then to Mrs. Gomez: "Wait, are you saying she's donating this blood to the man who attacked her and—"

Mrs. Gomez abruptly stands up, laughing nervously. "Oh, no, I mean, we need more blood, right? We need a few bags more? Can you check my blood type and if I'm qualified, I'd like to donate, too?"

That causes the nurse's eyes to bulge out even more. "You're also donating to the man who attacked your daughter's—"

"What's this donating to a man who attacked what?" Claire squints, sipping her water like it's some soup. "What are you guys talking about?"

"No, nothing," Mrs. Gomez grins, red in the face. "Nurse, why don't we go to your station where you can check my blood type? I have no idea what my blood type is. It has been ages since I last had that test. Doesn't the blood type change as you get older? No? Then I don't remember what it is, and we'd need to…"

Mrs. Gomez's voice trails off as she almost drags the nurse out of there. But Claire is still a bit groggy to make sense of that. She tries to drink down all the water in her glass; they say this will help her regain the volume of the blood that came out of her. Slowly, clarity returns to her mind. She remembers again the events earlier, realizing Gabriel is not around. She tries to stand up, holding the walls for support, but the room still spins, although not as violently as it did earlier. The early morning breeze coming through the half-open door helps a lot, and she soldiers on, determined to get out and find Gabriel and see Miguel. But by the door her knees give way, and she slumps on the door, clutching at the door knob.

"Miss Claire," Dale says, smiling. "We're here."

Claire looks around; indeed, everyone's here. Everyone from The Residence, that is. And they all seem excited about something. "What is happening?" Claire manages to say, before she again faints, the world blinking back into darkness.