Between Two Lungs

A few days had passed since the hockey game and Mae was beginning feeling a bit more productive. She started talking to some of her other artist friends who lived around the area, some of which were even in her building, and discussed having an art show to display their work. One of her friends had a connection with a local gallery that would be willing to rent out the space for two weeks, provided that they all pay a set fee.

Mae was beyond excited. She never had her work on display before, despite the fact that she sold a painting at least once every week and a half. She was a very persistent salesperson.

Marc popped over into the apartment one afternoon and plopped down on the couch next to her as she flipped through the channels and finally stopped on cartoons.

"So, I think you made quite the impression on Jordan the other day," he noted, taking a sip from a can of Coke. "I couldn't help but notice that you two were sort of flirting like crazy the entire time you were together."

"It wasn't flirting," Mae denied. "It's called being polite."

"Oh, come on, Mae," Marc chuckled. "I've never seen your face turn that shade of red before. It almost matched your hair."

She smacked him on the arm.

Rubbing it tenderly, he continued. "I just don't want you getting hurt is all."

"Why would I get hurt?" she asked. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Let's just say that being a hockey player means giving up a lot of personal time," Marc shrugged. "So does living in a different state."

"If being a hockey player takes up so much of your time, then what are you doing on my couch?" Mae asked smugly. Marc just rolled his eyes and shoved her a bit.

"You love when I come to visit and you know it."

"Yeah, because you always bring me groceries," she grinned. "Thanks for the fruit, by the way. I was craving apples."

"You're welcome," Marc smiled. "But seriously, Em. Long distance anything is always hard."

Mae sent Marc a strange look. "You're making it sound like I'm getting married to Jordan or something. We're just friends."

He laughed, but Mae couldn't tell if it was at the cartoons or at her. "Oh, I was just saying. Hypothetically."

She rolled her eyes and focused back on the television. It didn't take long for Mae to get really into the program when her phone ringed. She jumped a little when her phone rang unexpectedly, and she hurried to the next room to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Jordan's voice came in through from the other line. "Uh, it's Jordan."

"Hi," she responded quietly, the smallest of smiles creeping up on her face. Marc peered over at her from the couch, but just eyed her strangely and went back to watching Spongebob. "To what do I owe the honour of this phone call?"

"I got home last night and put the painting up in my living room,"he told her casually. "I'm taking care of it, just like you said."

"That's great," she responded, sounding a little robotic. "That painting's one of my favourites."

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Mae bit her lip and tentatively said, "Okay."

"Who's the kid in this painting?"

Mae glanced back at Marc, whose eyes were still glued to the television screen. "It's...kind of hard to explain over the phone," she said honestly. "Maybe the next time you're in the city, we can meet up for coffee and I can tell you about it."

"Oh, okay," came Jordan's understanding reply. "Sorry if it's a touchy subject...I saw the look in your eyes when I told you that I wanted to buy it. Do you want me to give it back?"

"No, no," she reassured. "It's fine, really. I want you to keep it. That way, whenever you look at it, it'll remind you to come up to New York more often to visit me and your brother."

Jordan chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe I'll come by when we have a few days off...it's not that far a drive, anyway."

"Sounds good," she smiled into the phone. She could just imagine Jordan's lopsided grin on the other side. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," he said. "Bye, Mae."

"Bye, Jordan," she replied before hanging up. Marc popped up behind her.

"Who was that?" he asked into her ear, causing her to jump up and nearly smack him in the face. She tried to calm her racing heart as she clutched her chest in one hand and the wall with the other.

"Jesus," she panted. "Way to scare the crap out of me. It was Jordan, if you must know."

"Jordan called you?" Marc inquired, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. "I know where this is going."

"It's going nowhere, Marc," Mae droned, walking over to a pile of papers that laid haphazardly on one of her drawing tables and pulling out a clean sheet. She took a pencil in her hand and absentmindedly started to doodle.

Marc just smirked and went back to the couch, laying across it with his eyes staring up at the ceiling. "If you say so, kid. But remember, I know my brother very well and I know when he's interested in someone."

"People grow up and they change," Mae muttered, her hand flowing across the page. "Sometimes people surprise you."

"I hate surprises," Marc yawned, resting the back of his head against the palms of his hands.

Mae looked down at her doodle and noticed the pair of familiar eyes that mocked her from the paper's two dimensional world. Crinkling it up and tossing it into the garbage can, she mumbled, "Me too."

* * * * *

"Gabriel, come back here!" Mae giggled, chasing after her little brother as he ran aimlessly through the park, his scruffy black hair ruffling in the breeze.

"Catch me, Emmie!" he squealed, his seven year old feet padding against the grass with every stride. Mae grinned and ran after her him as their parents watched on lovingly from the picnic blanket that they had spread out on the field.

Mae ran after her speedy younger brother as he continuously threw his head back, checking whether or not she was even within range of catching him.

Gabe stuck his tongue out at Mae and ran faster. Mae laughed at her brother, but it was soon replaced by a face of pure terror.

"Gabriel, get out of the street!"

But it was too late.

Mae shot straight out of bed in a cold sweat, gasping for air. She ran a shaking hand through her damp hair and let her feet dangle off the side of the bed as she gripped the edge of the mattress tightly.

"Not the nightmares again..."

Mae stood up, her knees feeling wobbly, and hobbled into the kitchen to fetch herself a glass of water. After quickly downing it, she made her way to the couch and sat down, sinking into the cushions. She felt tears stinging her eyes and tried to wipe them away and shake the thoughts from her mind, but it was futile. It wouldn't stop.

She ducked down and reached for the bag of pills that she hid underneath the sofa. It had been days since the last time she'd used--but now she needed it more than ever.

She took an ecstasy pill from the clear plastic bag and placed it on her tongue. She hugged her knees to her chest as a chill ran through her body. Then she closed her eyes and waited for euphoria.