Between Two Lungs

Jordan laid down on his bed in his room, staring at the ceiling. It was the early afternoon, and Mae and Marc had gone out to lunch. Jared was out with some of his friends, and Linda and Henry were heading to the grocery store to get some supplies for Christmas dinner.

"Jordan," Linda called, knocking on her son's door. "Could you do me a favour since you're not busy?"

"Sure thing, Mom," he agreed, sitting up. "What is it?"

"Could you go around the rooms and grab all the dirty sheets?" she asked. "I need to do a wash."

Jordan gave a nod. "Okay."

"Thank you," she grinned before wandering back downstairs to meet Henry in the front foyer. Jordan let out an indignant groan, flopping back down on the bed momentarily. He hated chores.

After about five minutes of laying down in silence, he figured it was about time that he fulfill his mother's demands. Jordan rose to his feet and started pulling the sheets off his bed to wash first before tossing them in the hall. He figured that he could gather all of the sheets from every bedroom into one giant pile so that he could collectively toss them down the stairs to the laundry room below.

Jordan cleared out his, Jared's, Marc's and Eric's room in a jiffy, even though Eric was still in Raleigh with Tanya and Parker. He was the only one out of all the Staals that wouldn't be able to make it home for the holidays. The only rooms left were his parents' and Mae's.

He climbed over the huge pile of fabric to the guest room. The door was closed shut, so he turned the knob and it opened with a loud creak. Jordan peered inside. The room was a bit of a mess, clothing strewn about, sketchpad paper all over the desk and occupying some of the floor. He figured that Mae had managed to condense her apartment's environment into one small room.

Jordan went over to the bed and tugged at the sheets when something caught his eye.

"Is that...blood?" he murmured, examining it more closely. "Gross."

He was about to write it off as some sort of feminine hygiene issue when he noticed something. The stain was small, maybe only the size of one or two droplets of blood, and it was too close to the pillow to be from anywhere below the waist. And on top of that, the blood was only on the blanket, not on the mattress cover.

Jordan's face hardened. "Please tell me that this isn't want I think it is," he seethed, ripping the sheets off and angrily throwing them into the hallway. His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He spied Mae's suitcase in the corner and immediately moved towards it.

His hand hovered over the zipper momentarily, unsure if it was the right thing to do. That thought was immediately erased from his mind when he decided that he was trying to help Mae--not hurt her.

"This is for the best," he told himself.

He unzipped her suitcase and lifted its cover, coming face-to-face awkwardly with several different kinds of undergarments. He blushed furiously and shuffled around them until his fingertips made contact with something hard. He dug deep and lifted out a small wooden chest.

Jordan looked around as if someone was watching him. When he was completely sure of his solitude, he unlatched the case and opened it. When his eyes fell upon the box's contents, he immediately felt anger bubbling up inside of him. He wasn't about to let this one slide.

He put the chest in his room and went back to deal with the rest of the sheets in silence. He kept glancing out the window, looking for Marc's car. He and Mae needed to talk the second she got home.

* * * * *

"Thanks for lunch, Marc," Mae grinned, giving her boyfriend a small hug. "It was really great."

"Got any other plans for the rest of the day?" he asked her as they walked in through the front door, dusting the snow off their coats.

"I've got to get some art pieces done," Mae sighed. "I'm in the middle of working on a collage piece right now. My room's kind of a mess."

Marc laughed. "This whole house is a mess. Four boys running around all the time? I mean, come on. That's a recipe for disaster."

Mae giggled. "Yeah, I guess so. But I'd better get back to work if I want to have enough pieces to show in March."

"How many do you have now?"

"Eighteen," she said proudly. "Just twelve more and I should be good to go."

"Well, happy working," he replied, wandering off to the kitchen to presumably find more food. Mae just laughed and shook her head.

She made her way up the stairs to her room and raised an eyebrow when she noticed that the door was ajar. When she had left to grab lunch with Marc, she made sure that the door was closed.

Mae entered the room and immediately looked over at where her suitcase was. The zipper was open. Another thing that was different from when she had left.

From behind her, the door shut. Mae nearly jumped out of her skin, but then turned and relaxed slightly when she saw that it was Jordan.

"What are you doing in my room?" she demanded. "Trying to give me a heart attack?"

When his eyes met hers, she could feel the intensity burning within them. He raised the familiar looking wooden chest in his hands and said darkly, "What the fuck is this?"

She gulped. "Well, for one," she answered, her voice shaking. "That's mine, so you can hand that back to me--"

"Mae," he repeated, holding the box up above her reach. "I want to know the truth. What the fuck is this?"

She turned her gaze away from him. "You wouldn't understand."

"You keep telling me that and I keep telling you that I want to understand!" he roared, throwing his arms in the air. "And you know what, Mae? I don't get it. What the fuck were you thinking? The pills were one thing, but needles? What kind of shit are you injecting into your body?"

"None of your fucking business!" she retorted, trying to make her way past Jordan to the door. But he blocked her path.

"You made it my business when you started shooting up in my house," he snarled. "Now tell me. What the hell is inside these needles?"

Mae felt her lower lip quiver in fear. She had never seen Jordan--or anyone, for that matter--so furious in her entire life. She ran both hands through her hair, retreating to the other side of the room before collapsing on the ground in a fit of sobs.

Jordan's expression softened. He put the chest on the floor and walked over to where Mae was sitting and took a seat next to her. He wrapped his arms around her small body, rocking her back and forth like a child.

"It's okay," he whispered. "You'll be okay."

"No, I won't," she sniffled, using her sleeves to wipe the tear tracks off of her face. "Fuck, I'm broken."

Jordan frowned and rested his chin atop her head. He kissed her forehead gently and she recoiled in his grasp.

"You can't keep doing that!" she shrieked, backing away from him. "I'm dating your brother, for Christ's sake!"

"Marc has no idea, does he?" Jordan shot. "Do you really think he'd be so willing to stand by you if he knew that you were a fucking junkie?"

"Don't call me that!" she sobbed, bringing her knees back up to her chest. "It's not my fault!"

Jordan growled in frustration. "Mae, you need to tell me what is in those syringes. If you don't tell me, then I can't help you."

Mae scoffed. "What makes you think that I want any help from you?"

"If you didn't," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "you would have gone back to Manhattan already."

Mae took in a shaky breath. "Okay, fine," she whispered, staring down at her hands. Jordan braced himself for what she was about to say next, but it didn't stop the impact as the frail sound of her voice echoed in his ears. "It's heroin."