Between Two Lungs

"Call me right after, okay?" Jordan asked, kissing Mae on the forehead as she picked up her duffel bag, heading back to the bus.

She gave a nod and caught him in a tight hug. "I will." Mae turned and got on the bus, going back to the seat she had the day before. Outside the window, Jordan waved.

"Good luck," he called, giving her a thumbs up. She returned the gesture as the bus started to pull out of the motel's parking lot. Soon Jordan was just a small speck in the distance.

Mae sighed and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, closing her eyes. In a matter of hours, she was going to be back in Columbus facing her parents for the first time in years. Even though her mother would send her plane tickets every year to fly back to Ohio, Mae never returned. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest from both anticipation and fear.

Mae hadn't spoken in length to her father since she moved. And even though he left her the message on her cell phone at Christmas, she didn't count it as an attempt at reconnecting. If he wanted to talk to her, he would have kept trying to call. What's more was that the message itself was recorded when Mae was asleep.

She pulled out her pocket sketchbook and a black ink pen and started to mindlessly doodle. She drew a series of concentric circles, wavy lines, curved lines, checkerboards and zig-zags for about fifteen minutes before getting bored and putting the sketchbook away.

Mae knew that she couldn't be productive on a bus.

It was at times like these that Mae wished she owned an iPod. But alas, she couldn't afford one.

And so, her solution to her boredom was to sleep. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, dozing off in a matter of minutes.

After what felt like an eternity, she felt the bus jerk to a stop. Mae opened her eyes and looked outside. They were at the Greyhound station. Looking over at the familiar street sign that read "East Town Street", she knew that she was back in Columbus.

She was still a far way from her parents' house. Gathering her bag, she headed for the city bus stop and waited. When the bus arrived, she paid her fare and waited for it to take her further north, away from downtown.

Familiar sights rolled by as she stared out the window. She passed Broad Street, the heart of downtown where all the art students from CCAD liked to convene and slowly watched as the further north the bus drove, the more posh the surroundings became. They passed a stretch of restaurants where people were lined up outside in the cold waiting to get in wearing suits, dresses and high-heels--even though it was only the late afternoon.

Mae could see the colour of the street signs changing from green to brown. That could only mean one thing--that they were in Ohio State territory.

Although it was a fantastic school, Mae hated OSU. Everything about it made her cringe. The way the people were, the way they dressed, the way they acted, how alienated she felt whenever her parents used to take her there as a teenager for tours. Mae's parents lived close enough to OSU that her going there would have been a great convenience, but far enough away that the football riots wouldn't affect them in any drastic way.

The bus stopped at the entrance of the OSU campus and Mae transferred to a different bus that took her east of the campus. It drove her all the way to Jeffery Park, right by her parents' house on North Parkview Avenue.

The house looked more like a castle than anything else. But with Mae's mom being a lawyer and her father being a doctor, they could afford anything. There was a gated entrance with ivy growing down the iron bars leading into a circular driveway with a now dead tree planted in the very centre. Apparently Mae's parents had opted out of installing a fountain like they had originally planned.

A white layer of snow coated everything that was once green. Mae felt glad for the gardeners in the winter. Less maintenance work had to be done.

She trekked past the miniature garden maze and the marble statuettes until she finally reached the front door. Putting her duffel bag on the ground, she lifted her hand and rang the doorbell. She could hear it echo through the entire house.

Mae heard the door unlocking. It opened, and she heard a gasp.

"Mae?"

"Hi, Mom."

* * * * *

Mae sat uncomfortably on the lush green velvet couch. The emerald colour matched the deep green on the walls. Even the drapes had green detailing in them. Every room was colour-coordinated.

"What are you doing back home?" her mother, Delia, asked, sitting across from her in an armchair. "Things not going well in New York?"

"It's not that," she responded. "I've just been going through a lot and I wanted...well, needed...to talk to you and Dad."

Delia huffed slightly and straightened up in her seat. "Does this mean you're actually going to talk to your father?"

Mae nodded. "I have no choice. It's step nine."

"Step nine?" Delia repeated. "What are you--"

"Honey, I'm home," Mae's father called from the front door in a tired voice. Delia turned in her seat, craning her neck to the front foyer to see him hanging up his coat.

"Patrick, dear," Delia replied, "we have a visitor."

"Oh, really?" his voice drew nearer. "Who is--"

When his eyes fell upon Mae, sitting slumped on the lush, green couch in his living room, he froze. Mae looked sheepishly at her father and forced her lips to curve up into a smile.

"Hey Dad. Sit down, I need to talk to you and Mom."

His eyes never once leaving hers, Patrick moved to the armchair next to Delia's and sat down, loosening his tie and leaning his elbow against the arm rest. He let one hand cover his mouth, still in shock that his daughter was sitting in his house of her own volition.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Mae glanced between her parents and took in a deep breath before blurting out, "I'm in the Narcotics Anonymous program."

Delia's eyes widened and her jaw went slack. Patrick rubbed his eyes tiredly, finally breaking eye contact with his daughter.

"Sweetheart," Delia cooed. "What happened?"

Mae let out a dry laugh and motioned around the room. "This happened. Life happened. My whole life, you two were nothing more than ghosts. Then when Gabe died, you were out of my life completely. Hell, our maids helped me out more than you ever did. I was a really angry, and so I left. When I got to New York, I got introduced to some people who told me that they could make things better. And so I believed them."

"What kind of drugs?" Patrick asked after a moment of silence.

"Weed," Mae began. "Then 'shrooms, sleeping pills, acid, and ecstasy. And heroin."

Delia sat in her chair and produced a handkerchief from her pocket. She cried mercilessly, soaking the white piece of fabric to the core. "How could you, Mae?" she demanded between sobs. "We taught you better than that!"

"Were you listening?" Mae bellowed. "You two were so focused on your careers that I felt like I didn't even have parents! You were trying to provide for me, but being gone ninety-nine percent of the time isn't the way to do it!"

"Don't blame us for your mistakes," Patrick said quietly from his seat.

Mae shook her head. "I'm not. I'm just telling the two of you how it all started. But now I'm in the Narcotics Anonymous program and I'm getting as much help as I can. I'm nearly sixty days clean."

Delia calmed down slightly. "S-So...there's no more drugs?"

"No," she replied. "Step eight of the program was to make a list of all the people we'd harmed in our lives and step nine was to apologize to them and make direct amends. I came home to talk to you guys and let you know that I'm sorry for ever trying to run from my problems."

Then Patrick did something Mae hadn't expected. He got out of his chair, walked to his daughter and embraced her in a hug. The shock on Mae's face was evident. Delia sat in her chair and tried to hide her smile as Mae relaxed in her father's arms.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered into her ear. "For being wise enough to get help."

Mae felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Thank you, Daddy."