Chapter Twenty-One

A/N: Uhh..if this chapter seems kinda weird or whatever, it's just that I don't really know how to write stuff like this...lol, yeah, I suck. We all know it.

Chapter Twenty-One

On their way to the hospital, Miranda drove, and almost got t-boned herself because she had started choking up sobs. Gordo, who was sitting in the passenger seat next to her, brought her back to reality by nudging her a bit. They arrived at the hospital a minute later. Natalie, who was in the back seat, still didn't get what was going on, and asked Miranda, "Aunt Randa, how come we're at the hospital?"

Miranda parked her car and turned around to face the young child. "Well," she sniffed, "Natalie." She hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Something bad happened to Mom," Miranda began, "But we don't know exactly what's going to happen."

"Who's this man with us?" Natalie asked, referring to Gordo.

"He's-" Miranda stopped, ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "He's a very close friend of mine. And your mom's."

"Ohhh," Natalie said, "Are we gonna go in now?"

Miranda turned to Gordo. She stared at him for a while. "Maybe we could just wait a few more minutes," she whispered to him, "I don't want Natalie to go and see her mother lying half dead."

"She's not half dead," Gordo whispered back.

"You know what I mean."

They sat silent for a moment until Miranda remembered something. It was the conversation she had with Lizzie a few years before. The one about if something ever happened to her, and who would get Natalie.

"You know what Lizzie told me?" Miranda whispered.

"What?" Gordo replied.

"A few years ago, I was talking with Lizzie and she said that if something ever happened to her then..." Miranda sniffed, then wiped a tear away from her eye. "Then you would get custody of Natalie," she finished softly.

Gordo didn't reply. He just sat there, staring at his friend for the longest time with a look of puzzlement on his face. Why should I get her? he thought, Well, I am the father...but why would she choose me? I just answered that...If I have to, which I do, then what's Brooke gonna say when I bring a seven year old through the door of our small apartment next week? Will she hate me? No, Brooke's not like that. If she was like that, then why would I be in love with her?

"It even says so on some document thing that was made when Natalie was like, a year old," Miranda continuted quietly, "I guess Lizzie had already made her choice of who would get her baby. It is a good decision, if I do say so myself."

Gordo just nodded. A million thoughts were running through his head.

"Aunt Randa! Are we just gonna sit here in the car?" Natalie interrupted loudly.

This startled Miranda, for it had been so quiet before. She jumped up in her seat and whipped her head around. She blinked and said calmy, "No, Natalie, we're going to go in right now."

Natalie opened her door and jumped out. "What do we do with this dog?" she asked Gordo.

"Uhh," Gordo began, glancing at Miranda, "I guess we could let him stay in the car. I mean, we're not gonna be long...are we? Because I have to be somewhere by 4."

"It's three forty," Miranda told him, "It took us twenty minutes to get here from across town, the ambulance got here about fifteen minutes ago. And we were sitting in the car for ten minutes. I don't know what's going on. I think the McGuires are in the waiting room or something."

"Yeah, I'll just leave the dog here. I don't care how much time that took, Miranda," Gordo said as he stepped out the car.

They were just about to enter the hospital when Gordo's cell phone rang.

"Hello?" he asked into it, "I thought it was at 4. So? I'm busy. I don't care. No, Amanda. Fine. I'll get a ride there. Bye," Gordo said with a bit of anger in his voice.

"What's up?" Miranda asked.

"My cousin is being a huge bitch about this wedding thing, she wants me to help her mom set up for her wedding rehearsal tonight. She's begging me. I really gotta go," Gordo told Miranda.

Miranda sighed once again and said, "Alright, I'll drive you to wherever you're going. I'll just take Natalie inside first. You go back to the car," Miranda said as she opened the hospital doors for Natalie, who skipped inside.

Gordo nodded and made his way to the car.

The Next Morning...

Miranda lay in her bed, and stared at the ceiling. She hadn't slept a wink the night before. Her eyes were swollen and her face was red and wet from her tears. She swallowed, and finally sat up. She looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was 10:30AM. She sighed and buried her face in her hands.

The day before, after she had driven Gordo to his cousin's house, she had gone back to the hospital, where she found the McGuires sobbing uncontrollably. Mrs. McGuire had sniffed and told Miranda the news.

And it wasn't good news.

But it was definetly news, all right.

Lizzie was in a coma.

The girl who Miranda had told her every secret to, given her best fashion tips to, and the girl that Miranda had known since she was four years old was...

Dead?

No, you couldn't call it that, Miranda thought to herself, But it seems too much like it that it's gotta be that. Except that she's breathing...

She's dead, but she's breathing.

No, that doesn't make sense...

Oh, whatever, Miranda, she's just unconsious. Miranda shook her head. Mrs. McGuire had also told her that Lizzie had told her the same thing that she had told Miranda: that Gordo would get custody of Natalie. Miranda told her about the conversation they had. Then Mr. McGuire, who had been quiet for the whole time they were there, spoke up and said that Gordo should definetly get Natalie because he is the father, after all, and that he should become a part of Natalie's life.

"Now I have to tell him," Miranda mumbled. Gordo had given her the phone number where he could be reached at the day before. I guess I'll call him right after I take a shower, she told herself.

So she stood up, then trudged into the bathroom, took her shower, then dried off and put on a bathrobe. She walked back into her room, picked up her phone, and dialed the phone number to tell Gordo what was going on.