The State We're In: Maine Stories by Ann Beattie Page B

you are?”
    “Seventeen,” Jocelyn said. “I like to read with a magnifying lens, because it makes the print huge. I can see fine without it. I don’t even wear glasses. She saw me reading with it the other night and—”
    “Is your aunt your legal guardian?” Dr. Baird said, looking at her chart.
    “No. I live with my mother.”
    “I see,” Dr. Baird said. “Well, the ambulance will be here any minute. She’ll be fine. Jenny, shouldn’t we call Jocelyn’s mother?”
    “We have to call my uncle,” Jocelyn said. “My mom’s in Massachusetts. She just had an operation, and she’s got Lyme disease, too. She, like, totally couldn’t do anything about this. She doesn’t even know there is a magnifying lens.”
    “Okay, Jenny, can you help out here?” Dr. Baird said.
    “She’s secretive about everything. My aunt, I mean. Her own daughter doesn’t speak to her, really. She keeps a diary and writes in it in the bathroom. She basically hates me.”
    Dr. Baird looked at Dr. Miller, who stood mutely in the doorway. “Fridays are always the worst,” he said.
    “Isn’t that the truth,” Dr. Miller said.
    “It’s all going to be fine,” Jenny said. “Excuse me, and I’ll . . .”
    “Is your aunt diabetic?” Dr. Miller asked.
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Do you think we might look in her handbag?” Dr. Miller said to Jocelyn.
    “I don’t care,” she said.
    Jenny exited and came back holding her aunt’s purse by one strap. It bulged open. On the first rummage, she brought out a bottle of pills and handed them to Dr. Baird.
    “You called it, Ed,” Dr. Baird said to Dr. Miller.
    “Did she, like, see you taking her purse?” Jocelyn asked.
    “She’s having a little rest in her chair,” Jenny said. She could match Angie for false brightness any day.
    “I don’t have any money and I don’t know how to get home,” Jocelyn said.
    “No worries!” Jenny said. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Baird? Trina’s off at four o’clock. She can give you a lift, Jocelyn. Or I can.”
    “You could ride in the ambulance with your aunt to the hospital?” Dr. Baird hinted.
    “I’m afraid of her,” Jocelyn said.
    “Trina will take you home,” Jenny repeated.
    “Your uncle? Do you know where he is?” Dr. Baird said.
    “Maybe pitching a softball game, or maybe at a mental hospital?”
    “He might be at a mental hospital?”
    “A friend of mine tried to kill himself,” Jocelyn said.
    “Unbelievable,” Dr. Baird said. “Have we tried to get in touch—”
    “He didn’t answer his phone,” Jenny said to Dr. Baird.
    A red, rotating light on the ceiling let them know the ambulance had arrived without its siren. Dr. Baird excused himself and went to the waiting room. He certainly did not move at White Rabbit speed. Once, playing field hockey, her friend Rachel had tripped on a big rock and broken her ankle. The bone had been sticking out of her foot and there had been blood everywhere when the ambulance arrived. Jocelyn had tried to comfort her by holding her hand and telling her to close her eyes. Which was more than she’d done for Bettina—although Bettina only gave orders, she never listened to anything.
    *  *  *
    When the ambulance left and she left with Trina, carrying her aunt’s handbag, no one had heard back from Raleigh.
    “You want to know how crazy things can get?” Trina said, starting her car and pulling on her seat belt. Trina had bright blue, squared-off fingernails, which were totally awesome. She was even cooler than Jenny, and Jenny was pretty cool. “Okay, so you tell me where I turn off Route One,” Trina said. “I know York pretty well. One of my friends was there with her boyfriend. Some rich guy didn’t want him to be found because he didn’t want him to be deposed, okay? So they put him in a rental house, and here’s where it turns into a modern-day horror story.” Beep beep . “Damn! Did you hear that? The car keeps unlocking itself. Why would it do that?