“What did happen to you out there?” He licked his lips. “What were you really doing for the last five days?”
“If you want to know, you can read it in the paper like everyone else.” She pushed his arm away.
“Okay.” He put his hands up and got off the bed. “I get it; it’s over.” He paced to the other side of the room and put his hands in his pockets. “I did love you, you know.”
Jillian turned to look out the window with no intention of responding. Ted’s face reddened as he clenched his fist, punching the plastic water pitcher off the rolling tray, sending everything clattering to the floor. Doctor Campbell and one of the nurses burst in, and Ted smiled brightly.
“Sorry.” He pointed to Jillian. “Watch out for the temper on that one.”
Tears of rage stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Ted left without any further argument, and the doctors went back to their regularly scheduled fussing. She wondered if her family didn’t have money to cover all the tests they were running, how quickly she would have been discharged. When her parents showed up, it was a whole other circus. They brought a small film crew in to capture the tearful reunion.
“What happened?” Her mother had a whole list of interview questions disguised as parental concerns. “How did you survive on your own for so long?”
“I’ve watched a lot of survival documentaries.” Jillian croaked as a camera flashed.
“Sorry.” The photographer cooed. “We needed a candid shot, and the light was hitting your hair perfectly.
“Can we just go home now?” Jillian blinked. “I’m beyond exhausted, I’m hungry, I miss my bed, and I smell like a sasquatch.”
“Sweetie, the doctors want to keep you for observation at least overnight.” Her mother rubbed her shoulder.
“Look, I’m perfectly fine and healthy.” Jillian patted herself down. “Get Dr. Campbell in here; she’ll tell you. I’ll sign whatever waiver I need to. I don’t need to be in here anymore, and I’m sure someone else needs to be in here a lot more than I do.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mother smiled for the cameras. “Even at a time like this, you’re putting others before yourself.
“Daddy.” Jillian waved her father over. “How about we take advantage of this opportunity to show how much we care for the citizens of New York?”
“What do you mean?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Have your assistant go out to the emergency room and find the saddest hard-luck case in there. I’ll give up my room to them, and you can foot the bill for their visit. Everybody wins.”
“That’s good thinking, peanut.” He beamed, patting her on the head. “There’s no stopping this girl!” He used his public speaking voice to play to the film crew.”
Of course, it made Jillian sick to her stomach to manipulate the situation, but it was the fastest way to get out of there. The lucky kid who got cherry-picked to get her room was a twelve-year-old African American boy named Miles Freeman. He had broken his arm skateboarding, and his parents, who both had full-time jobs, paid twenty percent of their income into a health insurance policy that would only start covering them after they paid their six-thousand-dollar deductible.
He had been hiding the fact that he had a broken arm for almost a week because he knew they couldn’t afford to take him to the doctor. As it was, they’d been living on boxed pasta and canned food while they waited for their next paycheck to clear. If anything good came from this, at least that sweet kid was going to get his arm taken care of. No kid should have to feel guilty that his family couldn’t afford to pay for health care. No parent should be put in that position either, for that matter.
Tears streamed down Mrs. Freeman’s face as her husband put his arms around her.
“Don’t make a scene, Rebecca.” Mr. Freeman patted his wife on the back. “Just thank the man so we can put all this behind us.”
Jillian played her part, smiling as she reached out to hug the boy and both of his parents while her father signed all the papers before shaking hands with everyone in the room. Her father’s security detail cleaved a path through the sea of reporters as they made their way to the limo, and Jillian managed to keep her composure until they were safely inside behind the tinted windows.
“That was a genius move, peanut.” Her father straightened his tie. “You’re going to make a terrific First Lady one day.”
“If anyone in this car is going to be married to the president, it’ll be Mom.” Jillian tried to ignore the lump in her throat as her father’s cell phone rang.
“Excuse me, sweetheart.” He reached into his coat pocket. “I’ve been waiting on this call. I have to take it. I promise we’ll catch up as soon as we get home.”
“No apology needed.” She looked back out the window. “The world’s gotta keep turning.”
That was the phrase he always used when his work took priority with whatever was going on in her life. She was used to him putting his career first. She had finally reached an age where she no longer took it personally. She just accepted that some people didn’t have time to be parents.
She kept thinking about Miles back at the hospital. How does a kid manage to hide a broken arm for so long? She met his parents; they obviously loved him to death. But they both worked long hours, sometimes only seeing him briefly at dinner. It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor; our society didn’t make allowances for people to know their kids.
If I have to bring a life
