This Crazy Rich Boy - Chapter 138
As it turns out, Mrs. Gomez isn’t qualified to be a blood donor for Miguel. So as Lucille, Dale, and twenty other team members of The Residence. Those who have been blood typed wait in the main lobby, chattering excitedly among themselves, as though waiting for some main event. The others who are still being processed are in a room adjacent to the ER.
Claire, who has regained consciousness and has since fully bounced back, squeezes Gabriel’s hand as they listen to Mrs. Gomez’s prattle. They’re in the small waiting area outside the ICU, waiting for the doctor’s update.
When the door opens, the three of them stand up, their hearts in their throats. The doctor, whose name is Garcia, looks cool, considering the pressure.
“I’m here to let you know we’ve started with the transfusion of the one unit of blood that came from you, Miss Claire,” Doc Garcia says. “We’re still in the process of finding more. Hopefully, some of your companions would be compatible as donors.”
“How is he?” Gabriel asks. “Is he awake?”
“Well, he’s in a deep sleep, which is for the best. But as you know, the transfusion is a drip method, so it would take about an hour for the bag to be fully transfused into his body. By then we’d just need more, so that the whole process is seamless. This would also help us avoid complications.”
“Complications like what, Doctor?” Mrs. Gomez’s voice quakes with worry.
The doctor shrugs. “There is always some sort of complication with every single medical procedure. In this case, although the likelihood is low, Miguel’s immune system could respond and treat the transfused blood as the enemy. If that happens, it could damage his kidneys or some organ.”
“Jesus,” Claire mutters. “Can we do something to avoid that?”
“We’re already doing that. He’s being very carefully monitored, Miss Claire. Every second of the procedure, there are machines that monitor his body’s responses. And of course, add to those are the trained watchful eyes of our nurses and staff.” Dr. Garcia smiles. “We’re doing the best we can. He’s in good hands.”
After the doctor leaves, Gabriel couldn’t help but pace the small space impatiently.
“Take it easy, Mr. Tan,” Mrs. Gomez says. “As the doctor said, he’s in the most capable hands.”
“Yes, I know,” he says. “But still. Every moment he’s in that situation, I feel helpless. Like I could have done more, but I can’t.”
Mrs. Gomez sighs. She sits down and looks around, wondering where to get some grub here. Maybe the folks from The Residence could do with some food, too. It had been too early when they were asked to go here; most of them probably, like her, had yet to have their breakfast.
“Mr. Tan,” Mrs. Gomez says, standing up. “I should arrange some food for your employees. And maybe you could eat some, too—”
“No, I’m fine,” he says. “But Claire might need to—”
“I’m fine, too,” Claire says. “I don’t feel hungry at all.”
Mrs. Gomez frowns. “That’s odd. You need some nourishment in you, or else you might faint when it’s too late.” She touches Claire’s cheek. “I think you’re dehydrated. What say you to at least a bottle of Gatorade?”
“I can’t drink Gatorade this early, Mrs. Gomez,” Claire says. “But if you can find some hot tea, I’d be grateful.”
“Then tea it is,” Mrs. Gomez says. She leaves.
Claire says nothing for a while; she watches Gabriel pace the floor like he’s waiting for someone to give birth or something. There are a lot of feelings she also needs to process. For one thing, isn’t it ironic that her blood is being transfused into Miguel’s body now—talk about two becoming one. In a way, it’s like Miguel’s dėsɨrė has found fruition in an odd sense, because an important part of her is inside his body now. If you can be extremely romantic, maybe you can find something good in that sense. Didn’t she also wish, during the run-up to this conflict, that if she only had two hearts, she’d gladly give one to Miguel, just to make everyone happy? She wonders vaguely what Miguel would feel if he learns, once he wakes up, that the blood that courses through his veins is Claire’s?
After a while, Gabriel gets tired of pacing; he sits by her side and puts an arm around her, as though shielding her from the cold of the morning. He gazes into her eyes. “I’m sorry. It has to be said that this is my fault. This could have been managed better.” He blinks. “I guess I got carried away. When I saw him grab you, I forgot in that split-second who he was. So now we have this.”
She tries to smile. “What do they say about situations like this, Gab? Don’t cry over spilled milk, right? We shouldn’t dwell on the mistake. We just have keep moving forward, find ways to make it better. I think we’ve done our part. And who knows? Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Maybe there’s a deep reason why this had to happen.”
Gabriel makes a pained smile. “I wish there’s something I can do to make this better.”
“There is.” Claire looks up. “You can kiss me.”
Gabriel gazes at her. “I’d say I’m very much obliged. But you know the truth.”
They kiss, right then and there, in the waiting area. They must have been kissing for a long time because they didn’t notice the “oohs” and “aahhhs” of people passing by.
“Ewww!” says a child’s voice.
That yanks them out of the magic bubble of that kiss. Before them is a girl, a Barbie in her arms.
“Why are you eating her mouth?” the young girl asks. “Are you a cannibal?”
Gabriel and Claire laugh, despite the situation. “I’m not eating her,” Gabriel says. “I’m trying to save her.”
“Oh, really?” the girl’s eyes go wide. “Is she sick, too?”
“Very,” Claire says. “Say, why are you here alone? Where’s your mommy?”
The girl points to the general direction of the Medical Intensive Care Unit. “She’s in there.” She turns to Gabriel. “Can I ask you a favor, Mister?”
Gabriel bends a knee. “Sure, anything. Just ask.”
“Can you save my mom, too?”
Gabriel is unable to say anything. He looks up at Claire, who’s already starting to choke with her tears. She turns away.
Gabriel turns to the girl. “Don’t worry. I will talk to your doctor. I will very kindly ask him to do everything he can to make your mommy’s sickness go away. The doctor is my good friend, and he will do what I tell him. How about that?”
The girl smiles. “Thank you.” Then she runs away giggling, as though she knows her mom is already safe.
Gabriel gazes at the child’s figure receding in the distance. He stands up. He’s thinking of telling Mrs. Gomez to take care of the child’s family’s expenses, too. And maybe tell the president of this hospital to make sure the child’s mother gets the best of care, expenses be damned. He feels good already.
Claire is gazing at him with meaning. “I think I know what you’re thinking,” she says. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least we can do,” he says. He’s starting to dial the phone, trying to call up Mrs. Gomez. But somehow, the lady isn’t answering.
At the same moment, Mrs. Gomez is being held up at the main lobby, where the folks from The Residence are waiting.
“I’m really, really sorry, Ma’am,” Dale is saying. “Not a single one from my co-workers can donate blood to Sir Miguel. No one seems compatible.”
Mrs. Gomez couldn’t believe what she’s hearing. “There’s a whole busload of you, and not a single one is compatible? Jesus Henry Christ! We’ve wasted so much time already!”
Dale is beyond apologetic. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. We did our best. Everyone from The Residence is here, as you can see. We all volunteered.”
Mrs. Gomez pauses. In her mind, she’s already calculating the odds. There’s no time to dwell in this failure; she must proceed to Plan B. The trouble is, she’s only starting to come up with Plan B, pulling it out of thin air. “Alright, Dale,” she says. “If you want, you can all have breakfast here, just charge them in my card.” She hands him her MasterCard. “I will have to scoot and find more possible volunteers.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Dale says, holding Mrs. Gomez’s credit card as though it’s such a delicate thing.
“Go now,” she says. “Your team must be famished. I don’t want anyone else go sick, understand? Then go back to The Residence because Claire might need you later.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Dale chirps snappily. He leaves to gather his people.
Mrs. Gomez is walking back to Gabriel and Claire, her mind on fire. She thinks she should run over to the TXCI office, round up all the available warm bodies with good, healthy blood coursing within them, and drag them all out here. Come hell or high freaking water.