Jude
2021 - before it begins

My parents never gave a shit about anymore. If you asked me, they had no conscience or moral compass, so why did I? I grew up with few role models, was in and out of foster homes, neglected, among other things, yet I had this innate desire to help people. I didn't really want to spend my Saturday here, but here I was, in this boring clinic, about to give blood.

With COVID, there was a huge shortage of blood, along with toilet paper and paper towels. Somehow, the postcards and non-stop calls guilted me into coming here. My mom even pushed me to donate because her blood type was almost as rare as mine, and she said she got twenty bucks for it, or so she claimed. I only believed half of what she said. If I hadn't donated at eighteen, the Red Cross wouldn't know my blood type, AB-, the rarest blood type. I only donated because I got to miss a half a day of school. I didn't even know my blood type at the time. I didn't care.

Upon entering the office, I donned a surgical face mask, discovering a near empty waiting room. I figured it was because of the COVID rules. I stopped at the front desk and stood behind the plexiglass, checking in for my appointment.

"Good morning," the receptionist said. "You must be Judah."

"Yeah. Good morning." It wasn't much of a good morning since it was raining outside—again.

The receptionist walked around the desk, gowned up with a face shield and mask as if I had the plague. I'd already answered the prescreening COVID questions before my appointment, but the receptionist nevertheless asked them again while taking my temperature. "97.8." She returned to the desk and passed a clipboard to me through a slit under the plexiglass. "Here you go."

It was a lengthy medical questionnaire, too lengthy if you asked me. It's not like I was donating a kidney. As far as I knew I was healthy and fully vaccinated against all major illnesses. I answered the questions to the best of my ability.

One man sat across from me, staring at his phone. I wondered how long he'd been waiting here. He looked bored.

"How long have you been waiting?" I asked him.

Either he didn't hear me, or he was an asshole and chose not to answer.

"Hey, handsome, how long have you been waiting?"

Calling him 'handsome' got his attention. It was true, though. He was a handsome guy, even if only half his face was visible. I'd never say anything I didn't mean. I admired his brown eyes, imagining his face below the mask. I bet he had nice, full lips that I'd love to kiss. My hormones had been raging since I was fourteen, and I was now twenty-two. I bet he was blushing, too.

"About twenty minutes," he said, shoving his phone in the pocket of his black Vans hoodie, acting though he was ready for a conversation with me, this complete stranger.

"Have you ever given blood?"

"I've been donating every year until COVID hit."

"I donated when I was eighteen because I got to miss school. I was guilt-tripped this time. I got a postcard in the mail and then relentless phone calls from the Red Cross, begging me to give blood because my blood type is rare and there's like a crucial need for blood."

"My blood type is rare, too... AB negative."

"Hey, so am I. I guess it's not that rare. Why are we the only ones here?"

"Because we're suckers?" he said and chuckled at himself. "I got a postcard and a few phone calls, too."

A young woman in purple hospital scrubs opened a door. I assumed she was a nurse, judging by the stethoscope around her neck. "You can both come in. Sorry for keeping you."

She led us down a hall and into a brightly lit room that looked more like an operating room I'd seen on TV. Two hospital beds sat in the middle of the room. IV poles and empty specimen bags lined the back wall. Two women and one man stood at the stainless-steel table in the back, sorting out supplies or something. They also wore hospital scrubs. The last time I gave blood, I sat in a recliner with my feet elevated and not in a bed. They propped up my legs because I almost fainted.

The man and I were just standing around in this weird room, not knowing what to do or where to go.

A woman in a white coat entered, her strawberry blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Strands of hair had loosened, dangling down the sides of her face. She, too, wore a stethoscope around her neck.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, making her way to the back table. "It's nice to meet you both. Please lie down. I'm Dr. Rodriguez. I'll be monitoring you during your stay." She scanned one clipboard and then another. "We're going to get started in a few minutes. There will be plenty of snacks afterwards."

I did as I was told, lying on a bed. I spotted more medical personnel in the room next door, the one with the see-through window. It was weird that there were so many staff and only two patients. It's not like there was a line of people waiting down the street with people dying to donate their blood.

"Hi. I'm Tanya," my nurse said while another nurse tended to the other patient. She tied a rubber band around my biceps, preparing my arm for the needle. "Make a fist." She tapped my arm with her fingers, searching for the right vein to prick. The other nurse had no problem finding his vein. The handsome man was well under way, filling the bag that hung from the IV pole while I hadn't even started. After a few pokes, Tanya finally got the IV in me. "Relax. You'll be okay. You're in a safe place."

For some reason, I didn't feel safe.

The sight of my blood oozing out made me queasy, causing me to quickly shift my attention to the other man. I needed a distraction. "I wish I could see the rest of your face," I said. "I'm sorry. I like to flirt. It gets me in trouble all the time. I just can't resist a cute guy. It doesn't matter if they're straight, bi, queer, whatever, but I prefer dicks. Shit... I need to shut the fuck up."

The man didn't respond. I probably offended him. His eyes didn't sway from mine, though.

"What do you prefer?" I asked. "Maybe you have no preference. Not everyone has a preference."

His eyes watered as if he was about to cry. I didn't mean to upset him.

"I'm such a loser," I said, shifting my gaze to the ceiling. "No wonder I'm perpetually single."

"I... uh... I don't know what I prefer."

"Maybe we could talk about it over a drink." I couldn't believe I just asked him out as his nurse removed the full bag of blood from the IV pole. The man's blood easily left his body. Mine was slow. I must have had small veins. His nurse exchanged the full bag for an empty bag.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the man asked, a combination of anger, annoyance, and fear in his voice. "You're only supposed to take one pint. I didn't consent to this."

"You agreed to give blood," the nurse said.

"One pint!"

I wondered if the consent form didn't specify how much blood. I never read those things, anyway. From now on, I wouldn't sign anything without reading it first.

"I'm calling the police," the man said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, ready to get up.

Four men and two other women charged toward him as if he was a mental patient. I couldn't figure out if those guys were nurses or security guards or something. They all wore hospital scrubs. Two men stood at the foot of the handsome man's bed, strapping his legs down. "Get off me! Get the fuck off me!"

I was so caught up with them that I didn't realize Tanya swiped my phone. It wasn't until I looked up that I realized I was already onto my second pint. No wonder I felt like I was about to faint. "What the fuck are you doing?" I tried to sit up, but I was too dizzy. Tanya stood beside my bed, patting my arm, attempting to soothe me. I was powerless to help the man beside me. "What's going on here? This is bull shit. Get me outta here."

The other men draped a belt across his upper chest, preventing his arms from flailing. A nurse stuck his biceps with a needle as her phony words of comfort failed to soothe him. How was he supposed to 'relax?' Within seconds, his flailing and shouting stopped. The fight in him completely fizzled.

"Are we good here?" Tanya said to me. "You're gonna behave?"

I nodded as she backed away. I didn't want to be tied down.

The man directed his attention to me. When he spoke, he slurred his speech. He sounded drugged. "Something is wrong."

Yeah. No shit.

"Don't let me die here alone."

Who said anything about dying? "You won't die. What's your name, handsome?"

"Alonzo."

Our eyes remained fixed. My innate desire to help people made me want to comfort this stranger. "Alonzo... that's an interesting name. Is it Italian?"

"No. German. I'm named after my grandfather. Most people think it's Spanish or Italian, but it's German, too."

"Alonzo's a very cool name."

"I hate it. I feel weird. They're taking all my blood... our blood. I don't want to die."

Alonzo's second bag was almost full, and mine was getting there. "You won't die," I said, although I wasn't so sure. Alonzo's eyelids grew heavy, but his eyes were still open. I extended my arm, reaching for his hand. 

"You're handsome, too," he said. "I wish I could see the rest of your face."

His arm grew limp and heavy. I held his hand for as long as I could before letting go. His arm dangled off the edge of the bed. He'd either passed out or fell asleep. As Dr. Rodriquez hovered over Alonzo, she lifted his eyelid, flashing a light in his eye. "What'd you give him?"

"Thorazine," she said. "He's sleeping soundly. I'm so excited you're both here. AB negative donations are extremely versatile, but because it is the rarest blood type finding new donors can be a challenge. Plasma from AB negative donations can help treat patients of all blood types, however fresh frozen plasma is only produced from male donations. We always encourage our male donors to donate as frequently as possible."

"Is that why you're draining us of our blood?" I asked.

"We're not draining all of your blood, but we are taking more than what's customary. Don't worry. I'm here to make sure nothing happens to you both."

There was no way in hell a hospital, clinic, or Red Cross would take more than one pint of blood. I'd already concluded that these people weren't part of the Red Cross or a reputable hospital. How could I have been so stupid?

With each passing moment, as more blood drained from my body, my strength dwindled and dizziness consumed me. I'd never felt so light-headed. My eyes remained on Alonzo as he slept. His presence comforted me. I didn't want to fall asleep, afraid they'd kill me, but I felt like shit, and I was exhausted. I couldn't keep my eyes open.

Either I fell asleep, or I passed out.

When I opened my eyes, I discovered several blankets on top of me in the same bed. Similarly, Alonzo was bundled up. However, we were in a different room. A serene atmosphere filled the room, with its walls painted in a pale shade of blue and the lights softly muted. Despite still being attached to an IV, blood no longer flowed out of my body. Instead, a bag of clear liquid hung from the pole. "Alonzo, are you awake?"

Nausea swept over me as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Before I tumbled out, two nurses—one man and Tanya—rushed to me. "Where do you think you're going?" she said, placing another surgical mask on me.

"I'm going home," I said.

"You're not strong enough. Lie down and get some sleep, and keep your mask on."

"What's this?" I asked, referring to the IV. "What are you giving me?"

"It's saline and electrolytes. It'll help build your strength. Relax. You'll go home soon."

I waited for them to leave before I attempted to get out of bed again. I staggered to Alonzo, stumbling onto his bed. I gently shook his shoulder. "Alonzo? Hey, wake up." As I pulled back the blankets, he stirred, moaning quietly. "I'm gonna help you, okay?" I removed the blankets and undid the restraints on his legs, followed by the one around his chest and arms. He slowly opened his eyes, but didn't move, even after I freed his limbs. "Hey there. You're still alive."

He said nothing as his eyes scanned the room. Black circles surrounded his eyes. I wondered if mine looked the same.

A sandwich, chocolate chip cookie, and juice box sat on each of our bedside tables. I pushed down his mask, bringing the juice box to his lips. He attempted to sit up, only to collapse back onto the bed, his body too weak. I reached for his juice box, thinking juice may help him. I pulled down his mask slightly, bringing the straw to his lips. His chapped lips appeared almost white.

"Here, drink," I said.

He gulped down the entire juice box. I broke a piece off his cookie and fed it to him.

"Hey, what are you doing?" his nurse demanded, approaching us. "Put his mask back on! And get back in your bed!"

"But he's not well," I said. "Look at him. He needs help."

"He's fine. The doctor's already seen him, and he'll be good as new in a few days. Now let's get you back in bed." She held my IV pole, pulling it away from me; in effect forcing me to go with her. "Make sure you drink your juice."

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I picked up my juice box and sipped it. I hadn't had apple juice since I was a kid. The lightheadedness and nausea quickly returned. Before I tumbled off the bed, I lay back down. I glanced over to Alonzo, discovering he was asleep again. As fatigue washed over me, I wondered what was in that clear liquid. It was more than saline and electrolytes.

When I woke up, I found myself at home with no memory of how I got there. It seemed like a dream or a nightmare. After sleeping for three days straight, I returned to my normal routine as if nothing had happened.

It was all fucked up.

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