CREAM OF THE CROP

Chapter 38

I don't know how long was he holding me like that.

"C-can't breathe," I whispered. Hinahabol ko na rin ang paghinga dahil sa sobrang higpit ng pagkakayakap niya sa akin na parang tatangayin ako ng hangin pag linuwagan niya ng kahit na konti.

I felt him stiffen like some ghost just whispered in his ear. "Hey," I tried again but his grip just got tighter.

He chuckled a painful one. "You even talk now, huh, love?"

I inhaled a sharp breath. Suddenly, the butterflies went berserk. Then I stopped breathing.

"W-what did you c-call me?" I stammered. That's only time he loosened his grip, slowly took a step backward, and examined me. He had this awestruck look on his face.

He looked at me for seemed like a century. God, has he gone mad?

He looked around, spotted Hovea, looked at me again, then to his family who were watching us interestingly. "Where's the psychiatric department? I think I've gone insane. I'm seeing things," he said. Did he think I was a hallucination? That made my pulse double.

He went pale. Then a beautiful girl, who was formerly looking at the door, shouted, "She's alive! Corbyn! I think she's looking for you!"

And then, like God just walked among us, everything went silent. When it all sinked in, Corbyn and the rest of his family rushed inside the ICU.

My feet dragged me inside the room. The doctors were sweating and breathing deeply. If my guess was correct, they were doing CPR when the family was crying outside.

"I thought we're gonna lose her," the younger doctor said in relief. He patted the older version of Corbyn.

Corbyn was on his knees, facing the tiny and frail looking woman on the bed.

"My son," she said very weakly but her voice was full of emotion like those two words carried with it everything that she wants to say.

Corbyn sharply faced the other doctor. "Doctor, what are you doing? Let's begin the transplant now!" His jaw was locked.

What transplant?

Umiling ang doktor. "I told you, it'd be fatal for you. You have already donated one of your lung lobes. We cannot risk it."

"I don't care if I die. I choose my mom!" he said hysterically. Oh, God.

The doctor lowered his head and said in a small voice, "But your mother chooses you."

The familiar silence filled the room. It was a painful scene: a son willing to sacrifice for his mother and a mother whom even on her deathbed chooses her son. I bent my head down. It's too painful.

"Mom, please," I heard him say. I also heard his mom but I didn't get what she said. "What?" he asked.

Suddenly, I felt the chills. Parang may matang nakatutok sa akin. I slowly bent my head upwards and on the tiny space between an elderly woman and the beautiful girl a while back, I caught his mother's eyes.

For a moment, I thought I was imagining things. But one by one, eyes went to me, even his. There's the awe on his face again. We locked eyes for a moment but his mom's eyes are more magnetic than his. Amidst the weak and fragile body, her eyes were dancing and so alive. If you just stare at her eyes and not focus on the body carrying it, you'd think they were owned by a young girl.

Slowly and weakly, she reached out her hands to my direction telling me to come to her. Or was I only assuming things?

"She's referring to you," said the beautiful girl. "I think you should go."