“I’m starting back to school in the fall. I took a couple of semesters off.”
“For fun?”
Jake stumbled. “No, definitely not for fun. My mom recently passed after a long battle with cancer. I spent most of the last year and half taking care of her. I guess you can say I learned a little about nursing and oncology.”
Kate listened to Jake without interrupting and when he was finished, she spoke. “I’m sorry for your loss. And though you may not want to hear it, I’m sure the experience will make you a stronger person.”
Jake shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Thanks.” Feeling a somber mood seeping into the room, he stood for the first time, still clutching the sheet against his groin. He tried not to blush and wasn’t sure if he succeeded.
“It’s a little late to be bashful. I pretty much saw it all last night,” Kate said. “Besides, I’m going to be a doctor; I’ve seen a few naked bodies.”
“As true as that may be, I’m the only one standing here without clothes.”
Kate stood and took off her t-shirt, joining Jake in his natural state.
“Now what do you have to say?” the cute brunette asked with a combination of conviction and sarcasm.
Jake turned a deeper shade of red. Kate enjoyed the moment and his embarrassment.
“Have you seen my shorts?” he asked.
“They are in the living room, on the floor in front of the sofa.”
Jake waddled through the bedroom door and Kate smiled at the half-moon that peeked out from under the sheet. He found his shorts on the floor, his shirt on the counter in the kitchen, and his belt near the balcony door. The evening must have been more interesting than he remembered. He dressed and sat down on the Italian leather sofa to put on his shoes. Nice apartment, he thought. Granite counter tops, crown molding, and large windows that ran from the floor to the ceiling.
Kate came out from the bedroom back in her t-shirt, running shorts completing the outfit.
“So can I have your number?” Jake asked. “I did forfeit my boxers after all.”
Kate laughed. Nice teeth, great smile, he thought.
They exchanged numbers and Kate finished the conversation with, “You’d better call.”
“I will,” Jake answered, doing a final check of his personal inventory—phone, keys, wallet. Preparing for his walk of shame, he took a quick peek into his wallet and cringed at the emptiness. “Where are we?”
“What?”
“What’s your address?”
“1750 P Street. The Commodore.”
It was a fifteen-block walk home, but he wasn’t about to ask for money for a cab. He gave Kate another kiss, this time on the mouth, bad breath and all.
Kate shut the door and smiled. She liked him. He was charming. He was strong and serious, yet shy and sweet. He had potential.
Her parents were going to hate him. ***
The nausea came on like a locomotive. Wei Ling flung herself from her perch on the top bunk and landed on the thin carpet with a light thud. She doubled over, grabbed her stomach with both hands, and stomped her way to the community bathroom at the end of the hall. The tight confines of the sleeping quarters assured that Wei Ling’s departure didn’t go unnoticed by her three roommates. But it was five in the morning, sleep was at a premium, and the alarm wasn’t set to start screaming for another half an hour.
Shi Shi Wong slept in the bunk under Wei Ling and the light aluminum frame of the two-story bed made every movement of either occupant a shared one. Through a half-closed eye, Shi Shi watched Wei Ling bend over and dart from the room. It wasn’t uncommon behavior. The food served by the sweatshop kitchen haunted all the ladies from time to time. Shi Shi tossed and turned for twenty minutes before slipping on her bright green flip-flops and going to check on her bunkmate.
Wei Ling was curled in the fetal position, clutching her stomach on the floor in front of the toilet in the first stall. The remains of last night’s sesame noodles painted the floor between her body and the intended porcelain target. The longest strands of her hair mixed with the nastiness on the dirty tile floor. Shi Shi pulled her bunkmate up by the armpits and half-walked, half-dragged her friend to the shower stalls on the opposite end on the room. She fetched a wet hand towel and pressed the cool cloth to Wei Ling’s face and neck.
The foreman in charge of the morning headcount came up two seamstresses short in workgroup B. He demanded an explanation, and when no one volunteered information, he started swinging. When he reached the third girl, he closed his hand and landed a full-speed punch to the side of her head, sending her ninety-pound frame flying off the wooden seat onto the floor. Chinese curses flowed from the foreman’s mouth and he ordered everyone to get to work before stomping off in the direction of the seamstresses’ quarters. Every girl knew what was next.
Wei Ling was sweating profusely, and Shi Shi Wong was trying to coax her out of bed when the foreman stormed through the door.
“It’s six-thirty, you lazy pieces of shit. Get your asses to work.”
Shi Shi looked up and risked her face. “She’s sick. She needs to see a doctor.”
The foreman looked at Wei Ling and back to Shi Shi. “You have five minutes to report to your work area,” he said without sympathy.
On cue, Wei Ling sent a shower of vomit onto the foreman’s opened-toe sandals. The foreman’s need to cleanse himself overpowered his urge to use the girls as punching bags, and he limped to the shower to wash his foot. He yelled over his shoulder down the hall to Shi Shi. “Take her to the main building, have Chow Ying call the doctor, and get to work. You have four minutes.” ***
The large room on the first floor of the administrative building served as Chang Industries’ doctor’s office, sickbay, and hospital. The four-bed room was well equipped. It had to be. Employees who were injured or too sick to work cost the company money. There was no time to be sick, not on Chang Industries’ dime.
The doctor strolled in, black bag in hand, thirty minutes after he received the call on his boat. Wei Ling was on the bed in the far corner, half asleep. She had thrown up two more times after blasting the foreman’s foot and was feeling as bad as she looked.
The doctor was American and competent. He had graduated from NYU before attending UCLA medical school. He was in his mid-forties, with sharp looks and a serious, but kind, bedside manner. He lived on Saipan as the physician for both Chang Industries and the local hospital. He could have worked anywhere, but after his first month on the island, he found himself unable to leave. The snorkeling, fishing, and sunsets were addictive. Living near the beach had spoiled him. He vowed never to return to the rush of a big city. He had spent twenty years of his life in downtown New York and LA. and had endured enough smog and congestion to last a lifetime.
The doctor asked Wei Ling a few questions and Lee Chang needlessly translated them into English. Wei Ling answered honestly. He took her pulse and blood pressure, and felt the glands on her neck. He tapped her stomach and asked what she had eaten in the last twenty-four hours.
“Are any of the other girls ill?” the doctor asked Lee Chang.
Lee Chang looked at Chow Ying and re-asked the doctor’s question.
“Not that I know of,” Chow Ying answered. “Everyone else reported to work on time.”
Lee Chang and his new main henchman watched the doctor finish the cursory examination in silence.
The doctor went to the huge storage room and unlocked the door. He turned on the light and dug through the shelves of medical equipment and medication. Wei Ling could hear the soft clanking of glass and the squeaking of the metal shelves. The doctor reappeared with a small box, sat down on the stool at the side of Wei Ling’s bed, and told her what to do.