Jaime POV
I followed Jon Hamm (sorry, that's who he looks like to me), realizing I could get out of that room/cage thing.
"Why can't I just decide here and now if I want to live or die?" I asked.
"Because it is not that simple," Jon Hamm said. "Perhaps in your current state of mind, you would choose death. But maybe that is not the decision you intend. Then you will find yourself somewhere you do not want to be. And eternal regret is not a state you want to remain in."
I frowned. That didn't make any sense to me. But who was I to argue?
Jon Hamm stopped. I stepped beside him. There was a small T.V. in front of us. On it was my mom. Sitting alone in our apartment. She sighed, got up, looked at the microwave clock, which said 11:15pm, and shuffled into her bedroom.
"I tried, Jaime," she whispered to herself. "I tried so hard."
"What does she mean?" I asked.
"Where is this place?" Jon Hamm asked.
"Our apartment. Our old apartment," I said.
"Is there a significance to the time on the clock? Or the day?"
"I don't know," I said, continuing to watch as though our kitchen was on some T.V. sitcom.
Just then the door opened and I came rushing in, breathless. I recognized what I was wearing. I heard myself brush Mom off again. Tears filled my eyes.
"This has an emotional connection for you. What is happening? Why do you not want to speak with your mother?" Jon Hamm asked.
"This is the night she died. I thought if I stopped her from telling me what she wanted to tell me, she'd have to stay alive. I thought I could save her," I said.
"But you did not. You let her die knowing there was something important she needed to tell you."
I nodded my head.
"I didn't want her to die," I said.
"So you were not ignoring her for your own reasons. You were trying to keep her alive?"
"I guess. She's. She was my mom. I didn't want to lose her. I didn't know what would happen to me if she died. And I didn't want her to die."
The T.V. shut off and a green light turned on to my right.
"Your decision is made. And accepted. You may pass through that door," Jon Hamm said.
I walked through the door and saw the room I was in was the same as the one before. But Jon Hamm was already in front of me.
"How?" I asked, looking behind me and then in front where he was standing.
"We are not held to the same rules here as in your world," Jon Hamm said. "Come. See."
Another TV screen.
Meagan was holding Marvel, who looked upset. Figures were rushing around in the background.
"Why Jaime went, Mama?" A very sad Marvel was asking Meagan.
"Do you recognize this?" Jon Hamm asked. I nodded.
"I think this is when I got lost in the reservoir near my dad's house."
"Who is the small human?"
"Marvel," I said.
"I do. I marvel at all small humans. But who is she?"
"Her name is Marvel," I said. "She's, she's my sister, I guess. My baby sister. On my dad's side."
"She seems sad and confused. Did you make her sad and confused?"
"Unintentionally. Dad's first wife was over and she was judging me because I wasn't raised in Beverley Hills like my brothers, because I was raised by a single mom. She didn't trust me around Bronx."
"According to my records, you live in California. Not New York. Why would you be in the Bronx?"
"Bronx is my brother's name. He's a kid. Not a city."
"You humans have very odd naming conventions."
"Oh yeah? What's your name?" I challenged.
"You would be unable to pronounce it," Jon Hamm said.
"Talk about unconventional naming practices," I muttered. "Fine. I'm calling you Jon."
"I will respond to Jon," Jon said.
"How do you feel about your sister being sad about you being missing?"
"Sad. I never want to make Marvel sad. She's just a baby. I got lost."
"You did not leave intentionally?"
"I left the house intentionally. I went for a run. To clear my mind. It's what I do when I'm upset. I run. But I got lost in the hills."
"Marvel seems very attached to you. You do not want to hurt her on purpose."
"No. Not Marvel. None of them, really."
A green light went on beside me again.
"Your decision has been made and accepted. You may proceed."
"But I didn't decide anything!" I said.
"You did. You chose not to upset Marvel and Bronx."
I shook my head and went through the doorway.
Jon was in front of me again.
"Can you stop doing that?"
"Doing what?" He asked.
"Just appearing out of thin air!"
"I am simply moving through your decisions as I am wont to do. It is my way. But if it would make you feel better I will walk with you."
He said 'walk' like I was asking him to push a rock up a hill.
"You are familiar with the story of Sisyphus?" Jon asked.
"I - what? You can read my mind?"
"Not exactly. But you have no secrets from me. And yes. I do know about the hubcaps. And the magazine you left at your old apartment."
I blushed.
Jon pointed me to the next "TV".
I was staring at myself in the mirror in my bathroom. I was crying.
"You are crying. Why are you crying?"
"I'm lost."
"You are not lost. You are in a bathroom. Presumably in your home."
"Not that kind of lost," I said as I watched myself swallow the handful of pills.
"That is too much of that type of medicine. Why are you taking so many?"
"Because I thought I wanted to die. Dad was mad at me, Ashlee hates me, my mom died and I couldn't save her. I wanted to be with her."
The light beside me went green. Jon smiled.
"I think you are almost finished here."
"What does that mean?"
"You have one final decision. One final screen."
I walked up to the TV. I could see Dad. He looked terrible.
"I am so, so sorry, Jaime," Dad was saying, tears forming in his eyes. "I was mad, yes. I was disappointed. But I never wanted this. We love you Jaime. All of us. You've completed our family. We need, I need, you to see that."
"Dad!" I called out. "It's okay! I screwed up. I was dumb!"
I grabbed the sides of the TV trying to see outside the frame. I shook the TV. I wanted to be there.
A loud alarm sounded and a green light turned on. Jon Hamm smiled at me.
"I was hoping you would make this decision. But will you answer something for me? Before you go?"
"Go? Where am I going?"
"Home. Back to your world. Your decision has been made. You chose life. You chose the people who love you over the pain you feel. But can you answer one thing for me?"
"Okay," I said. I guess I owed him something.
"You owe me nothing," I forgot he could mind read. "Why do you call me Jon? And why am I also called a cured pork product?"
"What?"
"You kept calling me Jon Hamm. Why? Who is he?"
"He's an actor. In my... world? You look like him."
"I do not. I simply appear as a familiar figure. I am not this Jon Hamm."
"I didn't say you were. I said you looked like him."
Jon contemplated what I said and nodded.
"Goodbye Jaime. I hope I never meet you again."
I stepped through the doorway. I couldn't move. My body felt heavy. I could move my eyes and that was about it. I looked around the room. Was I back? Really? I was. I looked at Dad.
"Jaime?" Dad asked, looking into my eyes. "Jaime? Are you awake?"
I couldn't move. I couldn't blink. I just continued staring at Dad.
"Jaime?" He whispered.
I tried to blink. It took some effort.
"Jaime?" He asked again, and again, I tried to blink.
Dad's eyes filled with tears. He grasped my hand and squeezed tight. I tried to squeeze back, but I wasn't sure I was successful. He squeezed my hand again. I tried to return the squeeze.
A nurse came in and I could hear Dad tell her what he'd observed. The nurse came over and tried a couple of things. She smiled at me and said she was going to call for the doctor to confirm.
I looked at Dad again. He brushed back my hair, looked in my eyes and smiled.
"Hi there," he said. "Hi. We've missed you."
I closed my eyes again. I was tired.
"Good afternoon Mr. Wentz," the doctor said, jovially, coming into my room. "I hear we've seen some improvement today?"
"I think he's waking up. He was looking at me. And he blinked when I asked if he was awake. And he squeezed my hand. Well, kind of," Dad said excitedly.
The doctor placed his stethoscope on my chest and listened.
"Jaime?" The doctor said, taking my hands. "Jaime. Your dad says you're waking up. Can you show me? Can you open your eyes or squeeze my hands?"
I couldn't react at first.
But then, I opened my eyes and looked at the doctor. Then I moved my eyes towards Dad again. Making sure he was still there.
"Well, look at that, would you. Welcome back, young man," the doctor smiled at me. "Can you follow my finger?"
The doctor moved his finger to my left. Slowly, I followed and found the doctor's finger. The doctor moved his finger back to the middle and the. To the other side. It was hard to follow. He was moving too fast.
"Can you squeeze my hands?" The doctor asked me, holding both of my hands in his. My grasp was loose. But I curled my fingers as best I could around the doctor's.
"Very good," the doctor smiled. "Well, all in all, very good. We'll do another MRI in a day or so. See if there's any damage we can see and plan for rehabilitation once he's ready. You're doing very well, Jaime. You've got a bit of work ahead of you, I think, but you're well on the way to getting out of here."
I looked at Dad, then closed my eyes again.
"He needs his rest," the doctor said. "But I'm very encouraged by today's results. He's going to need a lot of support. And once we can get him off the respirator, or he's strong enough to write, I want him to start seeing a counsellor."
I drifted off into what felt like sleep. Normal sleep.