Between Two Lungs

"So, I was thinking," Marc said one afternoon as he and Mae laid together on the couch in his apartment flipping through channels on the television. "You should come with me to Thunder Bay for Christmas."

Mae lifted her head up from where it was resting on Marc's chest and furrowed her eyebrows. "Won't Jordan be there?"

"I don't think so," he said. "Jordan's got some games on the road during the holidays this year, so does Eric. I think only Jared's going to be home with my parents since he still lives up in Canada. But if you decide to come with me, it'd be an excuse to not see your parents."

Mae pondered, tapping her finger against her chin. "You're right about that," she agreed. "I'll think about it. But I'll only go if Jordan isn't going to be there."

"I'll make sure of it," he grinned, kissing the top of her head gently.

Four days had passed since Jordan left along with Mae's ecstasy pills and acid sheets. It was drawing closer to Thursday, the day Mae had to take a plane to Columbus to spend the holidays with her parents. The day she had been dreading.

"Should I call my mom, then?" she inquired. "Let her know I'm not going to be coming home?"

"Sure," Marc shrugged. "Only if you're one hundred percent sure that you want to come be with my crazy family for Christmas."

Mae chuckled and sat up, taking her phone out of her pocket. She walked to the kitchen and dialed the number, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Hello?"

A male voice.

"Hi Dad," Mae mumbled quietly, her voice suddenly sounding hoarse. "Can you put Mom on the phone?"

"Sure," he replied. There was some rustling, hushed voices, and the sounds of the phone being handed over.

"Mae, sweetheart? Is that you?"

"Hi Mom," she answered. "I just wanted to call to let you know that I'm not going to be coming home for Christmas this year."

"And why not?" she demanded, sounding furious. "Your father and I spent good money buying you that plane ticket and you're letting it all go to waste?"

"I have a valid reason for not coming, Mom," Mae exclaimed, exasperated. "I have a boyfriend now and I'm going to be with his family for the holidays."

Silence on the other end. But only momentarily. "A boyfriend? Who?"

"Marc Staal," Mae answered. "He's a defenseman for the New York Rangers. They're a hockey team."

"How did you meet this boy?"

"Mutual friend three years ago," she responded. "We only started dating a few days ago, though."

Mae heard her mother sigh loudly. "I don't think that you should be spending Christmas with his family instead of ours."

"This is my life, Mom," Mae said decisively. "I can do what I want. I'm not a baby anymore. I've been living on my own since I was ten, and you know it. One Christmas isn't going to change anything." Then she ended the call.

Walking back to the living room, she laid back down next to Marc and sighed, snuggling into his chest. Although she still wasn't a hundred percent sure about her feelings for him, Marc did bring her great comfort. But still, keeping her secrets from him proved to be harder than she thought now that they were in a relationship. He was constantly at her apartment or inviting her over to his. She barely had any time to herself, and it had only been a handful of days.

"How did your conversation go?" he yawned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"As well as could be expected," she shrugged. "I'm free to go to your house, though."

"Excellent," he declared. "I'm going to call my mom too and let her know to expect some more company. We're leaving on Friday for Thunder Bay."

"Okay," Mae nodded as Marc got up to leave the room. "Hey, Marc?"

"Yeah, Em?"

She scratched the back of her head and said, "I think I'm going to head back to my place tonight. You know...to get ready and pack. And I might need to get some art supplies to bring with me, too."

"Sure," Marc said, walking over and kissing Mae lightly on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she smiled faintly. "Bye."

Mae pulled on her winter coat and made her way out of the apartment. Once she hit the cold streets of New York, she exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the chilled air. She made her way back to Alphabet City. Her feet led her down Avenue A, around an area that she frequented often.

A lot of homeless people scrounged around the streets of Alphabet City, and Avenue A was one of the most populated areas for vagabonds. Mae had befriended quite a few, sometimes sharing some food with them or offering to buy them coffee from less expensive cafes when she had some extra cash. She looked around and saw several familiar faces, but one was missing.

"Gina," Mae called to a ragged looking woman wearing a large, heavy trench coat with sunken in blue eyes and matted curly brown hair. "What happened to Bobby?"

"Bobby?" Gina reflected, her yellowing teeth hidden behind a set of wrinkled, pursed lips. "Sweetie, Bobby's dead."

Mae felt her insides lurch. "H-He's dead?"

The poor woman nodded. "Last week. Beaten to death by some kids in an alley."

A tear rolled down Mae's cheek and nearly froze to her skin. "Oh," she sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry to hear about that."

"Bobby was old," Gina told her, somehow smiling. "We all have our time. Bobby's just ran out."

Mae nodded and started to walk away.

"You know, we haven't seen you 'round much anymore," Gina called, pulling the trench coat closer to her frail body.

"I'm sorry about that," Mae returned, turning to face her. "I promise I'll try to come by more."

"Holding you to it," was all Gina had to say.

Mae retreated to her apartment on Avenue B and immediately ran to her quote wall. Her eyes darted over every word until she found the quote that she was looking for. She unpinned the napkin and scribbled along the bottom, Bobby Jones, 1952-2009.

She ran a hand through her tangled hair after pinning the napkin back to the board. Mae let out a small cry and pounded her fist against the wall.

"Fuck, I need to get out of New York," she whimpered. Mae ran to her room and pulled out a wooden box from under her bed. Opening it gingerly, she gazed at the fresh, clean syringe that stared back at her from within its velvet lining. She swallowed hard, looking intently at its contents.

Taking in a deep breath, Mae held the needle up to her inner elbow and closed her eyes as it pierced through her skin.

"Life is beautiful," she whispered to herself as she injected the liquid into her veins. "Never forget it."