Sweetheart of the State Capitol

Copyright 2021

A short story by Mystery Jones

When Renee Johansson arrived at the prisoner visitation center, the last thing she expected to see was her daughter looking like she’d just lost an MMA cage fight.

“Jamieson! What happened?” She sat down across from her child and looked deep into her swollen, blackened eyes.

“It’s been a rough month.”

Her arm was casted and in a sling. Bruises covered both cheekbones, and her nose was bandaged. “Obviously. Care to elaborate?”

Jamieson bit her bottom lip, then sighed. “Well, it all started at the civil court hearing.”

“Tobin told me Annie Baker agreed to settle on the amount you offered her.”

“Did he tell you what that bitch said to me after court? She called me the Governor’s bastard.”

Renee pursed her lips. It was her fault Jamieson carried that stigma. Because of her affair on Doug.

“I spent most of the day handcuffed and shackled in a van, so my wrists and ankles hurt like hell. And Annie’s remark fired me up. I was in a pissy mood when I got back here. Then this mouthy bitch on my cellblock started in on me. I’ve been putting up with her shit for two years.” Jamieson’s eyes narrowed. “I snapped. I took the cunt down and beat the hell out of her.”

“Jamieson! Save your filthy mouth for your prison pals. This is your mother you’re talking to.” Renee’s lip curled. “Your vocabulary has lost its eloquence since you’ve been locked up.”

Jamieson’s brows furrowed. She looked down at the table. “Sorry.” It took a few moments before she continued. “I got thrown in solitary confinement for fighting. Then as soon as I got out, the inmate I beat up sent five of her associates to get revenge.” She gestured with her good arm. “My face caught the worst of it. And my arm. I’ve got a bunch of broken ribs. And my kidney’s bruised. There’s still a little blood in my urine.”

Renee kept her composure as best she could. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Did you get proper medical attention? Your father can contact the warden and — ”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

Renee folded her arms across her chest. “You’re anything but fine.”

Jamieson’s gaze darted back to the tabletop.

“Listen, you made a stupid decision. Now what are you going to do about it?”

“Not start another fight.”

Renee shook her head. “You really have no idea, do you? How awful and miserable is your life going to have to get before you wake up?”

Jamieson didn’t respond. She shifted in her seat and stared out across the visiting room.

Renee sat back in her chair and drummed her fingers on the tabletop, regarding her daughter. Jamieson would turn thirty in a few months. What a way to spend such a special occasion. Instead of getting gussied up in a cocktail dress and going out to party with her friends, she’d be locked in a cell and clad in her postman blue prison uniform.

Partying. Jamieson’s downfall. That’s what earned her fifteen years in the state pen. Renee took a deep breath. Why couldn’t Jamie have listened to her and sought help before her drinking spiraled out of control? If Doug hadn’t used his position of power as Governor to bail his daughter out of trouble all the time, maybe she wouldn’t be here. She could’ve received treatment instead of punishment. And avoided the media disgrace and the burdensome guilt associated with killing someone.

“I love you, Jamie, but someone has to tell you the truth. And it’s me; it always has been. Your dad never disciplined you. You were daddy’s little girl, and still are, despite my infidelity. Your brothers never toughened you up in any way. They all treated you like a little princess and protected you from everything. When your world fell apart, you had no coping skills to draw from.”

Jamieson looked at Renee. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“I’m the only one who acknowledged your drinking problem.”

“I made one bad decision.”

“For god’s sake, open your eyes! You killed a man and handicapped his little boy. That wasn’t just an error in judgement; it’s the result of years of reckless binge drinking and alcoholism.”

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Is that so? What do you call it when you spend every weekend at the bar partying with wannabe politicians? Or show up drunk to family gatherings. What about those empty liquor bottles I found in what was left of your Lexus after the Baker crash? And Tobin found the mini bottles of bourbon you had stashed in the bottom drawer of your desk at the state building. Don’t forget, you were hungover at your sentencing hearing.”

“I haven’t had a drink since then. I’m sober now.”

“Are you?”

Jamison smacked her palm on the table. “Of course I am! This is prison, Mom. There’s no happy hour here.”

“No, you’re not. I can see it in your eyes.”

“See what?”

“Desperation. Yearning. The same look you’ve always had when you needed a drink.” Renee leaned into the table. “If I offered you a shot of Jim Beam right now, would you be able to say no?”

Jamieson put her elbow on the table, jammed her fingers into her hairline and concealed her face.

Renee sat back in her seat. “That’s what I thought.”

A silent void grew between them.

“I know this is hard for you to hear,” Renee said. “You’re a drunk. And plagued with unprocessed guilt over killing Mark Baker. You’re a broken young woman who needs help.”

Jamieson faced Renee. Tears slipped down her daughter’s battered cheeks. Jamie never cried. When she did, it meant the hurt was soul crushing.

“You know what I hate most about you, Mom,” Jamieson said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You always shove the knife in deep.” She got up from her seat and stormed to the exit. A corrections officer let her through the locked door, and she disappeared down the hall.

***

Renee and Doug sat at a secluded booth in the private dining room of their favorite gourmet steakhouse. She sipped her Riesling and watched raindrops beat down upon the window next to her.

“Are you ready to talk about your time with Jamie?” Doug asked, then forked a piece of filet mignon into his mouth.

Renee turned to her husband. “I think I really hurt her.”

Doug wiped his lips and returned the cloth napkin to his lap. “The time for being hard on her is over, Renee. God knows you tried everything to get her to stop drinking. She didn’t listen. Life’s got Jamie in a choke hold now and she’s got some choices to make. The only thing we can do is give her love and support. I think you need to be as gracious and encouraging with her as possible. She doesn’t need to you to chew her out at this point; she needs you to build her up.”

“You saw her; she’s a wreck, physically and mentally. I couldn’t sit there and say nothing. She needed to hear the truth.”

“That’s why I always go in to visit first. I know she’ll be in a good mood.” He grinned and took a drink of his Scotch.

“How is it that you’re not bothered by the fact that our daughter is languishing in prison? She hasn’t done a thing to work through any of her issues since she’s been there.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m heartbroken. That’s why I went straight to the car instead of waiting for you inside. Seeing her beat up like that…I needed a minute. You know how I am with Jamie.”

Renee smirked. “A big crybaby teddy bear.”

“That’s accurate.” He finished off his Scotch. “See, that’s your problem. You’re honest to a fault, and sometimes you just need to bury it and show a little compassion.”

Renee cupped her hands and rubbed them over her face. “I realize that, but I don’t know how. What’s your secret?”

“You’ve got to see this through Jamie’s eyes. She went from sweetheart of the state capitol to prisoner #001191. Imagine how devastating that would be for you. One day she’s rich, popular with the media and politicians, and engaged to a hunk. And the next, it’s all gone. She’s got nothing left but a guilty conscience and a lengthy prison term to serve.” Doug cut another piece of meat. “She controls nothing. The prison dictates what she wears, what she eats, when she gets up and goes to bed, and what she does with her day.” He paused. “Think about that.” Doug forked the meat into his mouth and chewed. “You’re right about one thing. The only person who can save Jamie from the nightmare she’s living in…is her.”

Renee folded her hands in her lap and stared down at her half-eaten plate of chicken marsala.

“I think you should write her a letter and apologize. I don’t know what you said to her, but I imagine it wasn’t very warm and fuzzy. Am I right?”

Renee looked up from her plate and nodded.

“You need to experience her reality so you can better understand what she’s going through. I’m calling Warden Larsen and getting you a tour of Lowood Correctional Center.”

“Doug, I get to see how awful it is every time I go through the barbed wire lined fence and locked gates to visit.”

“That’s nothing. When I was in office, I toured all three men’s institutions and Lowood. I assure you; nobody wants to live there. Especially not a girl with her status and last name.”

Renee took a drink of wine and turned her attention back to the rain. “Do you ever feel like this is our fault?”

Doug set his fork down. “Sometimes. Neither of us put those martinis or car keys in Jamie’s hands, but I can’t help wondering what would have happened if I’d allowed her DUI charges to stick instead of making them go away.”

“I should’ve told her,” Renee said, turning to Doug. “I waited too long. Damn the media for exposing my affair before I could explain it to her.”

“Water under the bridge. We worked through all that. I’ve always considered Jamie mine.”

“I know, but that’s the catalyst that started her drinking. If she’d only known the truth before the press ripped open our dirty laundry, I could have spared her the shock and the shame.” She took another sip of wine. “Here we are. More than a decade’s worth of failures has caught up with us; Jamieson’s in prison for vehicular manslaughter, and we played a part in putting her there.”

Doug reached across the table and took Renee’s hand. “We’ve both made mistakes. We can’t go back. The only thing we can do is be there for her.” A smile broke at the corner of his lips. “Jamie needs you. Not as her disciplinarian. She’s got plenty of those in her life now. Be her pillar, like a stronghold.”

“I thought that was your job.”

He grinned. “I’m willing to share the responsibility.”

***

Renee sat at a table and waited for the corrections officers to bring Jamieson out to visit. It’d been two months since their clash. Jamie never responded to the apology letter. She hoped that didn’t mean she was in for another rotten visit.

When the officer unlocked the door and Jamieson stepped into the room, Renee startled. She didn’t recognize the girl walking toward her. The cast was gone, and her face healed. Her uniform looked crisp and well kept, and her shirt was tucked in. She’d tied part of her hair back out of her face. A far cry from the sloppy, disheveled, just rolled out of bed look she normally presented.

“Look at you,” Renee said as Jamieson sat down. “You clean up well in spite of your circumstances.”

Jamieson gave a half-smile but didn’t say anything. She placed a folder on the table in front of her.

“Did you get my letter?”

“Yeah.”

Renee closed her eyes and swallowed. She took a deep breath, then opened them. “I meant everything I wrote. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you last time I was here.” She hung her head for a moment. “It was cruel and inconsiderate. Please forgive me.”

“No worries. I’m over it.” Jamieson bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t hate you. I just hate your brutal honesty.”

Renee rested her arms on the tabletop and laced her fingers together. “I’m working on that.” Renee leaned into the table. “My honesty should be delivered with compassion and in love, right?”

“I guess.”

“I brought a peace offering.” Renee scooted a plastic bottle of fruit punch and a snack sized bag of honey roasted cashews across the table. “These used to be your favorite when you were a little girl.”

Jamieson stared down at the treat in front of her and remained silent for some time.

“Is something wrong?”

Jamieson looked into Renee’s eyes. “I should’ve gone to rehab when I had the chance.”

“Jamie, don’t — ”

“I made a mess that can’t be cleaned up. I can’t bring Mark Baker back to life or make his son walk again.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I know I’ve got problems to deal with, but all I want to do is get hammered. My life is ruined. I might as well be doing life without parole. That’s how it feels.” Her eyes shifted to the tabletop. “It’s like I’m hanging onto the edge of a cliff by my fingertips. Then you came by and crushed my grip.” Jamieson pushed the folder in front of her toward Renee. “I hit the bottom of the ravine, and I realized I don’t want to live in this misery anymore.”

Renee picked it up. She pulled out a few sheets of paper and read them. Her eyes widened. “Is this…a treatment plan?”

Jamieson nodded.

Renee thumbed through the entire folder, reading each document. AA meetings. Individual therapy sessions. Anger management and self-control classes. Jamie’s signature lined the bottom of every paper. She sat back in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief. She thought this day would never come. Jamieson reached the end of herself, her breaking point. She was finally confronting her deep-seated issues.

Renee smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you.”

“Seriously?”

“None of your academic or professional accolades matter — you weren’t sober when you achieved them.”

“So…you’re saying this prison epiphany I’ve had is my bright, shining moment?”

“Absolutely.”

Jamieson hung her head. “God, my life is pathetic.”

“Not so.” Renee held up the papers. “These signify a new beginning. You’re moving forward now. Getting the help you need. Working toward parole.”

“It’s gonna be years before anyone considers letting me out.”

“One day at a time. And I’ll be here to support you along the way.”

Jamieson smirked. “Since when?”

“I’ve had my own epiphany.” Renee straightened Jamieson’s papers and slid them back into the folder. “I’ve been insensitive and harsh about your incarceration. No more. I know I can’t walk a day in your shoes, but I want to try to understand what you’re going through.”

Jamieson twisted the cap off the punch and tore off the corner of the cashew bag. “Okay.”

“Your dad pulled some strings. I got to meet Adel Larsen today.”

“The warden?”

“She gave me a tour of the facility. Chow hall, public showers, a cell block, infirmary, education center, the yard…now I know where you picked up all that foul language and slang. It’s like a foreign country out there.”

“When in Rome…” Jamieson popped a handful of cashews into her mouth.

Renee closed her eyes and shook her head. “I couldn’t survive in here.”

“Sure, you could. You’d adapt.”

“No. Look at what you’ve been through. I couldn’t handle any of that. You’re a stronger and more resilient woman than I am.”

Jamieson cracked a smile. “Thanks.”

Renee handed the folder back to her daughter. “Please take this seriously. I don’t want to still be visiting you in prison when you’re forty. And behave. Neither your father nor I could bear seeing beat up like that again.”

“I will.”

Renee smiled. “And I appreciate your new look. Groomed.”

“You know, once I walk out of this room, I’m untucking these blues. I’ll probably pull the tie from my hair. And I’ll definitely be cussing and slanging it up.” She grinned. “I might even drop another C-bomb.”

Renee pinched the bridge of her nose and blinked. She sighed.

“Put those newfound empathy skills to work, Mom.” Jamieson winked.

THE END