Page 17 of Hate That Blooms
Why the fuck would he be calling me and telling me to pick up my phone? It’s not like I want to talk to the asshole. I tap on the message from the hospital, wondering if mom forgot something.
“This message is for Gabriela Ruíz—this is Nora from the ER. I need you to call me back as soon as you get this.”
Sitting in the car, absolutely stunned, I hit re-dial.
“Hospital directory.” The voice on the other end replies.
“I received a call from the emergency department. A Nora asked me to call her back.” I held my breath, waiting for them to respond.
“One moment, please.” The waiting music bleeds through. It’s the music you hear in elevators that drives you nuts. After a few moments, the line clicks over.
“Gabriela?” The woman’s voice from the voicemail says.
“Yeah, that’s me. Wh-what’s going on?” I stutter over my words as I try to stay calm. I have a looming feeling that something is terribly wrong.
“You need to come to the hospital, sweety. Can you do that?”
I sit frozen. “The hospital? Is my mom okay?”
“We’ll talk when you get here.” She says it sweetly, but she can’t hide the trembling in her voice.
Chapter9
Joaquín
The look of panic on Gabriela’s face after talking with someone on her phone has me slightly worried. I watch as she looks into the backseat, a pained look on her face. After seeing that her sister is already asleep, she gazes out the windshield. Her chest heaves, each breath shallow and shaky, as if she is trying to hold back tears that threaten to spill over. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with terror, and her hands shake uncontrollably, as if a panic attack is about to engulf her, leaving me feeling helpless as I watch.
She doesn’t deserve your help.
A part of me wants to comfort her and reassure her.
Whatever it is.
Fuck I hate how much I want this girl. Seeing her look hurt from something I haven’t caused makes me want to hold her, kiss her and tell her it will all be okay.
Anger like I have never felt coursed through my veins as I watched her cheer for that asshole Isaac tonight, I wanted to hop on the field and beat the shit out of him.She doesn’t see that he is trying to use her.And the anger got worse when he asked her to wear the jersey to school tomorrow. I angrily fired off the text messages to her, my fingers pounding the screen, the intensity of my rage seething through every word. I now fight against the desperate impulse to bolt towards her, wrench open the car door, and desperately cling to her, feeling like my sanity hangs in the balance.
Sitting on the hood of my new to me truck, I nervously bite my nails, my mind racing with worry. As much as I hate her, I also hope nothing is seriously wrong.
Chapter10
Gabriela
The moment I step into the hospital entrance, a wave of anxiety twists my stomach, but I push through, cradling Mireya in my arms as we navigate towards the check-in desk in the busy emergency department. The security guard looks up at me, and I must look like a disheveled hot mess as he gives me a kind smile. “A nurse named Nora called me. I’m Carmen Ruíz's daughter.” I watch as the smile falls from his face, and he nods, picking up the phone and turning away to speak into the receiver.
This is bad. Whatever this is.
Keep it together, Gabby. For Mireya.
I look around the waiting room, and it’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. People sitting in stiff plastic chairs, wearing masks and coughing, people in wheelchairs grimacing in pain, or pacing around because they can’t be still. Holding Mireya tight in my arms, the panic hits. Before it pulls me into the depths, the door to the actual emergency room swings open, and a nurse searches the room. “Gabriela Ruíz?”
I’m frozen and can’t speak.
The nurse locks eyes with mine, and I feel the first tear sneak out of my eye. The look on her face tells me everything I need to know without her even speaking. She motions for me to follow her back, and my feet somehow become unglued, crossing the room to her. Once we are behind the closed door, she turns to me. “I-I’m so, so sorry, Gabriela.” She takes a deep breath, her voice quivering with empathy. “Your mother, Carmen, is in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can, but it’s a very serious situation. You need to prepare yourself.” The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel the weight of fear and sorrow crashing down on me.
I try to find my voice amidst the overwhelming emotions. “Can-can I see her?” I choke out the words, my voice barely audible. The nurse nods and leads me through a maze of bustling medical professionals and beeping machines. The sterile smell of antiseptic fills the air, intensifying the sense of unease in my stomach.
As we approach the room, I can hear the steady beep of machines and the hushed whispers of doctors and nurses. My heart pounds in my chest as I enter the room, and the sight before me is both heartbreaking and surreal. My mother’s frail body has wires and tubes attached, monitoring her every breath and heartbeat.
