A police drama played on the TV in the hospital’s waiting room. The sound was off, as were the subtitles, yet Jamie was still mesmerized. Gorgeous detectives caught in a love triangle anguished over the fate of a traumatized victim. (Such amazing hair. I bet that guy uses hot curlers). At a crucial moment, the scene ended, followed by five minutes of ads hyping erectile dysfunction pills (Those old dudes have really satisfied-looking wives), knife sets (That serrated blade cuts tomatoes like nobody’s business), and countertop sausage grills (Wonder how it would handle a bratwurst).
Jamie’s stomach grumbled. Her emergency candy bar was long gone, as were her twenty-two remaining mints and all her loose change. Only the stack of bills remained, and she was too embarrassed to ask the receptionist at the front desk to break a hundred. She slipped off her shoes, slouched in her seat, and rested her head on the back of her chair. Should she ask about Lisa again? The doctor had stopped by to give her an update, but that was at least an hour ago.
Waiting rooms inevitably reminded Jamie of the Academy and sitting for hours in the student center for the five-minute call home that she was allowed every few weeks. She was always nervous that her parents might not pick up. Maybe they’d be busy with something more important than their delinquent daughter.
***
It was a gray and snowy day, like most at the Academy. Jamie watched snowflakes drift past the dingy windows of the student center. She grasped the dated MP3 player her brother had slipped to her on his last visit. Smart-phones, or even stupid ones, were absolutely prohibited on campus, as the school administrators controlled all communications with the outside world. She tapped the buttons to flip through songs—indie rock, classic rock, riot grrrl. All of his favorites. The music was her constant companion. She hated to admit it, but her big brother had great taste. She loved him, even though he was the reason she was stuck here. Well, it was mostly his fault.
Sitting and waiting, she felt a little sick. Lunch that day had been a bowl of yellowish tomato soup and a bologna-and-cheese sandwich on white bread. The food at the school was terrible, but meals were a distraction and she never missed one. One of her roommates had stolen a promotional pamphlet from Bob the Nob’s office, and they’d tacked it on their wall like a poster. A whole section was dedicated to the healthy meals that were supposed to be served to students. It featured a veritable cornucopia of tasty delights. Lies. All lies. Fresh vegetables rarely appeared on their trays, and Jamie hadn’t seen a piece of fruit since she’d left home.
Jamie shifted in her seat. She needed to use the bathroom, but she couldn’t risk it. The staff would use any excuse to deny the students privileges. It had been weeks since she’d talked to her family.
Finally, a voice came over the intercom. “Jamie Kim, please come to Dr. Donna’s office.”
Jamie stood, quickly headed down a dim hallway, and opened a door.
A middle-aged woman sat at a desk in the middle of a windowless room. A pair of glasses on a beaded lanyard hung around her neck. She wore a white coat with a tag labeled “Dr. Donna” crookedly pinned to her lapel. A stack of files and a notepad sat on the desk’s scratched surface next to a cup of coffee. Dr. Donna gestured at Jamie to sit in one of the chairs opposite her desk. The wooden chair creaked uneasily as Jamie sat down.
“Jamie, it’s good to see you,” said Dr. Donna. She put her glasses on and slowly turned the pages of Jamie’s file. She wore a headset plugged into an office phone. “It’s been a week since we met?”
“Three.”
“Three weeks, really? How are you feeling today?”
“Fine.”
“Just ‘fine’.” Dr. Donna made a note in Jamie’s file, then looked at Jamie above her glasses. “I was hoping you’d made some progress since we last spoke.”
Jamie regretted her response. She needed to do better. “I have, absolutely. I’m in a really good place and am ready to have an appropriate conversation with my parents.”
Dr. Donna settled back in her chair. “Now, I just want to go over a few things with you. I need you to understand how much stress your parents are under. When you were living at home, you brought them nothing but trouble, Jamie. They are finally in a good place. Do you remember that incident at the mall? They are just now getting over it.”
Jamie remembered. Dr. Donna and the other counselors would never let her forget the day she’d raced after her brother down the concourse of the Lloyd Center mall and skidded across the open-air ice rink carrying a backpack stuffed full of stolen Xbox and PlayStation games. She remembered her brother glancing back at her, the excitement in his eyes turning to dismay as he realized they were being chased by a mall cop. He made it out the door to the parking lot and disappeared into a maze of cars and SUVs. Jamie didn’t.
“We talk to your parents regularly, and they confide in us,” continued Dr. Donna. “It’s been a long period of recovery for them and for your brother. They don’t need to hear anything negative that you might want to say about your experience here.” Dr. Donna sighed deeply and took off her glasses. She leaned forward and stared intently at Jamie. “Do you want to cause them more heartache, Jamie? Or do you want to tell them how happy you are, how much the school is helping you, and how glad and grateful you are that they sent you here instead of juvenile detention?”
“I only want to share with them how well I’m doing, and how wonderful the Academy is,” said Jamie, doing her best to smile. She wondered how much more of this crap she’d have to stomach before Dr. Donna got on with it. “I’m so lucky to be here.”
It had been months since her court-ordered sentence had come and gone. Jamie had started to suspect it was the school, not the judge or her parents, who plotted to keep her trapped here.
Dr. Donna smiled and closed the file. “Well, then I think we’re ready to get started. Shall we make the call?”
This wouldn’t be a private conversation between Jamie and her parents. As usual, Dr. Donna would listen in and monitor every word, and if she didn’t like what was said on either side, the conversation would end, and this thin thread to Jamie’s life back home would be severed.
Dr. Donna slowly dialed her parent’s number, and Jamie couldn’t help but watch hungrily as the familiar sequence of numbers was typed into the phone.
“Remember, Jamie, the call will only last five minutes, so make it count.” She held the receiver out to Jamie.
“Hello,” answered her mother.
“Hello?” said Jamie, “Hello?” then realized her mother couldn’t hear her yet.
Dr. Donna spoke through her headset. “Mrs. Kim?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Donna from the Lost Lake Academy.”
Jamie suspected Dr. Donna had nothing close to a doctorate, a detail she was dying to share with her parents yet couldn’t because it would immediately end the call. Jamie was convinced the entire school was a scam. She doubted any of the teachers had legitimate degrees. She’d learned from the other kids that most of the instructors and therapists were locals with barely more than high school diplomas.
“Of course. We’ve been waiting for your call for two hours,” said Jamie’s mom. Jamie loved how irritated her mother sounded.
“So sorry for the delay. You know how it is dealing with troubled teens.”
“Well, no, I don’t . . .”
“I have Jamie here now, and she’s so excited to talk to you. I’ll remind you, according to your signed agreement with the school, if I feel the conversation is taking an unhealthy turn, I will terminate the call. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Dr. Donna,” said Jamie’s mother. “One moment while I find Jamie’s father and brother.”
Jamie sat impatiently as the seconds ticked by. Mom must be in the kitchen, she thought, and pictured the room in her mind—the black-and-white tiled floor, the old-fashioned, refurbished stove and oak kitchen table, and the big window that looked over the backyard.
Finally, she heard voices.
“Mom?”
“How are you?”
“Good. Is Dad there too?”
“Yes, and Roderick. He’s home for spring break,” she explained.
Spring break already, thought Jamie. Her concept of time was perpetually off-kilter. With the endless snowfall in winter and gray rainy days in summer, it had all started to blur. The idea of getting a break from the Academy’s daily routine felt unimaginable to her. “That’s great, Mom, but I only have five minutes.”
Dr. Donna held up four fingers.
“Can you all get on the speaker-phone?”
“Yes, of course,” her mom said. Jamie heard a click, and their voices echoed around her.
“Jamie, how are you?” Her dad’s warm voice filled her ears. They usually spoke Korean when they were together as a family, but Dr. Donna wouldn’t allow that. She needed to hear every word Jamie said to her parents.
“Hey, sis. How’re things at that spa you call a school?” asked her brother, sounding as cocky and confident as ever.
“Yeah, it’s great. How’s Stanford? Are you staying out of trouble?”
Roderick laughed. “Of course, you know me. I’ve decided on a major.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Journalism.”
“Jamie,” said her mother, “tell your brother he should go pre-med or pre-law. No one makes money writing.”
“But Mom,” said Roderick in a dramatic voice. “I need to tell the story of Jamie’s life of crime and her path to redemption.”
Jamie laughed, losing herself for a moment in her family’s cheerful banter. “When can you visit?” she asked.
Dr. Donna gave her a warning look. She scribbled a note and held it up. “Don’t act needy,” it read.
“We’ll be there next month,” said her mom. “For your birthday. Do you need anything?”
Dr. Donna shook her head at Jamie, her finger perched above the End Call button.
“No, Mom, I don’t need anything. The school provides everything. Everything is good.”
“Are they feeding you?”
“Absolutely, just like in the pamphlets. You wouldn’t believe how healthy the environment is here, lots of fresh air, the classes are really challenging, and I’m receiving the very best tutoring. I feel like I’m really getting better. Great, really great.”
Jamie could hear whispers and then a moment of silence on the other end.
She heard her brother’s voice again, all joking gone from it. “Jamie, how about the counseling?” he asked.
She blinked back tears, loath to let Dr. Donna witness her cry. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “No worries, Roderick. I’m getting the best care,” she said, her voice choking. Suddenly she couldn’t help herself. She switched to Korean and rushed out the words. “The school is a prison. Get me out of here. Please. Mom and Dad, let me come home.”
Before her parents or brother could say another word, the phone went dead, Dr. Donna’s finger pressed firmly on the End Call button.
It took her parents a few weeks to get her out, but she was almost eighteen by then, and after that, the school couldn’t hold her any longer. They let her go without too much of a fight. It was the state funding they wanted—thousands every month.
***
The hospital’s lobby doors slid open with a whoosh followed by the staccato click of high heels.
“Hello? Is anyone here? I’m looking for my daughter.”
Jamie turned, glad for the distraction. It was a well-dressed woman with white hair. Maybe I could ask her for some money, thought Jamie. Mothers always have cash. Jamie had fully inventoried the vending machine. Her first choice was a Snickers—very filling. Then a bag of sour cream and onion chips. Or maybe the peanut butter pretzels. Crunchy and creamy.
“Does no one work here?” asked the woman loudly to the empty reception area. “Or has everyone taken the night off? With all the public funding this facility receives, one would think at least the front desk could be properly staffed.”
A door labeled Patients and Staff Only opened, and the receptionist hurried back to her desk. “Sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help you?”
“It’s about time,” said the woman. “I’ve been waiting here for an eternity. What if I were bleeding out? I could be dead by now.”
Jamie was thoroughly enjoying her tirade. Only a big bowl of buttered popcorn could improve the show.
“My daughter Lisa was in an accident. Lisa Salder. I’m Ellen Salder.”
Jamie’s mouth dropped open, all thoughts of salty snacks gone.
“Let me call the doctor.”
“Can’t you check on your computer? My daughter is here, and I demand to know exactly where she is and what condition she’s in. You must be able to tell me something. You can’t imagine how worried I am.”
“Please take a seat. I just need a moment.” The receptionist pointed accusingly at Jamie. “She brought the young woman in.”
As the receptionist made her escape, Ellen directed her scowl at Jamie and didn’t look pleased by what she saw. Jamie was still wearing her party dress, and in that moment, she would have given almost anything for a change of clothes. Or to disappear in a puff of smoke.
Jamie sat up, jammed her feet back into her sandals and stood. Should she commandeer a wheelchair, force her way through the staff door, and roll Lisa to safety? Or just abandon all hope and make a run for it? Jamie tried to compose herself as Lisa’s mother walked over. “Hello,” she said, and held out her hand.
Ellen ignored it. “How do you know my daughter?” she demanded.
“I’m Jamie. Lisa’s roommate,” she said, and let her hand drop limply back to her side. “I talked to the doctor about an hour ago. She said Lisa would be fine.”
“Don’t tell me she’s going to be fine. What do you know?” snapped Ellen.
I know that I really dislike you, thought Jamie.
A doctor swept down the hall toward them.
“Mayor Salder. My goodness, it’s such a pleasure to see you again. I’m Dr. Adair.” The doctor held out her hand, her voice and manner the perfect antidote to the mayor’s animosity. “We met last year at an OHSU benefit.”
Ellen’s expression instantly changed from utter irritation into a warm smile, and she grasped the doctor’s hand firmly. “Yes, of course. Dr. Adair. Jennifer, isn’t it? It’s so good to see you.”
Jamie was unnerved by Ellen’s transformation. Disturbed, she stepped away from the pair as they continued to exchange pleasantries. She sat down a safe distance away and resumed staring at the television. The gorgeous detectives were gone, and the screen had been taken over by an infomercial for a countertop deep fryer. Homemade donuts bubbled in steaming oil. Jamie’s stomach rumbled.
I’m not going to ask her for vending machine money, no matter how hungry I get, she thought sullenly. She couldn’t imagine Lisa’s mother had anything so pedestrian and utterly useful as crumpled bills and change at the bottom of her purse.
“How is Lisa?” Ellen asked.
Jamie shifted her attention back to the doctor, eager for any information about her friend.
“Lisa, yes. I examined her when she first came in.” The doctor’s eyes quickly scanned the tablet computer she held. “The results of her MRI are already back,” said the doctor. Her finger swiped across the tablet as she read Lisa’s chart. She smiled. “Nothing to worry about. Lisa is doing very well.”
“When can I see her?”
“In a few minutes. She suffered a nasty bump on the head, but everything else looks completely normal. We’ve had her under close observation, and there are no signs of a concussion. I feel comfortable sending her home at this point. Two Tylenol every six hours should help with any pain. Just give us a few minutes and the nurse will bring her out.” Dr. Adair shook Ellen’s hand again and walked away briskly.
Ellen stood motionless for a long moment after the doctor had left, as though unsure what to do next. She sat down a few seats away from Jamie.
The hospital’s sliding lobby doors whooshed open again. A severe-looking woman with long black hair led in a barefoot man in a T-shirt and jeans. His clothing and face were covered in soot and his left hand was wrapped loosely in white gauze. The woman pulled him toward the receptionist’s desk. “Will you please help my idiot husband?”
Must be a good story there, thought Jamie.
The receptionist handed the woman a clipboard with a few sheets of paper and said to fill out the form.
“Please tell the doctor to take his time,” said the woman. “I want my husband to suffer as much as possible.”
The man sat down, closed his eyes, and gently cradled his swaddled hand. The woman grabbed a stack of magazines, sat down next to him, and started aggressively flipping through them, page by page.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”
Jamie looked away from the couple and realized Ellen was speaking to her.
“I just felt so helpless, and that makes me lash out. My therapist is always telling me to pause and breathe and then speak. There’s not always time for that when I need people to do their damn jobs.” She shifted a few seats closer and held out her hand. “Let’s start again. I’m Ellen Salder.”
Jamie wondered if it was a trap. Hesitantly, she held out hers and they shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Jamie Kim.” Ellen’s grip felt firm and professional. She probably shook hands a thousand times a day.
“How do you know my daughter, again?” Ellen asked. “You’re her roommate?”
“Yes,” said Jamie. She felt incredibly uncomfortable, as though she were betraying her best friend just having this conversation. She could fake an attack of some kind. She could faint. Or play dead. This was a hospital, after all. Some nice nurse would swing by, put her on a gurney, and sweep her away.
“And how did you meet?”
Maybe I should lie, thought Jamie. Make up a story and say we met volunteering with sad orphans, or tagging a public building with profanity. Of course, life was always much worse than fiction. “We met at the Lost Lake Academy. She may have mentioned my parents, the Kims? Lisa lived with us for a while after she was released.”
Ellen’s face suddenly looked pinched, like she’d tasted something sour. “The Kims. Of course. Your parents are such generous people.”
“Yes. They are.” Jamie imagined what her mother would say if she were here. Mrs. Kim had wanted to give Lisa’s mother a piece of her mind for quite some time.
The Patients and Staff Only door opened, and an aide wheeled Lisa into the waiting room. Lisa looked pale, but the knot on her forehead had subsided to a more reasonable size, more grape than chicken egg. She was dressed in scrubs and resting on her lap was a clear plastic bag containing her belongings. Jamie rushed to Lisa’s side and gave her a quick hug.
“Thanks for sticking around,” said Lisa. “That took forever. Can we please go home now? I just need to check out. Don’t think I need a prescrip—”
Jamie cut her off, and blurted out, “Lisa, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t call her.”
“What are you talking about, crazy lady?” asked Lisa. “Call who?”
“Hello darling,” said Ellen, as she walked toward Lisa.
Jamie blurted out. “I have no idea how she found out you were here.”
“How I found out isn’t relevant right now,” said Ellen.
Jamie watched as Lisa’s mother looked over her daughter carefully. Jamie wished she’d called her own mom. By now, Mrs. Kim would have smothered Lisa with hugs and would be outlining a full regimen of soups, teas and herbal remedies to get Lisa on the mend. Not this cold, clinical inspection.
“I just want to make sure that you’re being well taken care of,” said Ellen crisply.
“Now you worry?” asked Lisa.
“Your health and safety are all I’ve ever cared about.”
They both crossed their arms and glared at each other in silence.
Oh my god, they’re going to kill each other, thought Jamie. At least we’re in a hospital.
A hissed argument could be heard from the couple who sat across the waiting room. Jamie looked over and saw that the woman with black hair was glaring viciously at Lisa.
“Lisa, that woman is staring at you,” whispered Jamie.
Lisa broke off her gaze and followed Jamie’s line of sight. She blinked a few times and said stiffly, “It’s nothing. Can we go?”
Jamie looked back at the couple, trying to understand what they could possibly want. They were probably just interested in what the mayor was doing in a hospital at this late hour.
Ellen looked too. “What is George Green doing here?” She sighed irritably. “I better say hello.”
“George Green? You mean the Green?” asked Jamie.
“Yes,” Ellen said. “He runs that awful ad agency in the Pearl District.”
“Son of a bitch.” Jamie stood. Her adrenaline kicked in, her cheeks flushed, and her fists raised themselves in a fighting pose.
“Jamie, what’s wrong?” asked Ellen.
“And the woman with him, that’s George Green’s wife?”
“It is,” Ellen said, with a nod. “She is terrifying.”
“Well, that woman hit Lisa with her car.” Jamie picked up the license plate from where she’d left it under her seat. “And I have proof.”