Folded

God damn boxes.

She let the cardboard clatter to the floor as she let a long breath. Moving was never something she enjoyed. Come to think of it, Maggie didn’t like any kind of change.

When she’d packed up from Chicago for South Carolina when college came a-knockin’, it had taken Maggie three full days to choose which of the many picture frames scattered around her room she was taking with her. And then, four years later, Maggie was ready for med-school – back in Chicago.

Opening the door to a now almost barren walk-in closet, Maggie’s eyes were drawn up to one last remaining shelf stocked with her thickest sweaters and hoodies. She hadn’t touched them since her last winter in Chicago. She loved the warmth that came with being back in South Carolina, but Maggie would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit excited to possibly have a white Christmas.

Standing on her tip toes, she reached up to gather the stacks of clothes. There were more than she remembered and she was a little disappointed that she’d have to wait to wear them, her swollen belly too big for the pretty sweaters.

Folding them neatly and closing up the boxes, Maggie turned to leave. Before she turned the light out, she looked back on last time to make sure everything was cleared out.

It wasn’t.

It wasn't something that should be on a shelf and creased - as neatly as it was. It was something that should be on a hanger whenever it wasn't on your body. But in a fit of rage, albeit one where she still couldn't throw it away, she'd folded up the jersey, the game worn sweater, with number 19 on the back and buried at the top of her closet underneath sweaters and hoodies from her Carolina days.

But now, as it fell to her hands, she found herself staring at incredulously. Slowly, carefully, she raised it by the shoulders and watched as the sleeves fluttered out and a leaf of paper fell to the ground. It looked just like the one he still wore, even now years and years later.

Picking up the piece of printer paper, she plopped to the ground, tears threatening to spill over just due to the crumpled paper.

Jon.

It had been so long since she’d thought about him; let his name pass through her mind. He was still captain of course, probably still tearing up the league. When things had ended, when it had come time to grow up, Maggie had done all she could to exile every mention of hockey from her life.

But it had been so hard. They’d been so in love and it had happened so quickly. Looking back, it might have been a little foolish, but they’d been young and she’d been looking for something to tell her to not get married. Maggie had hoped Jon was just that.



She was the only person in the bar that wasn’t wearing either Cubs or Bears merchandise. It was a rare Sunday in early September that had both Chicago teams playing. Football was at home while the Cubs were out of town.

Kaner and Burish had convinced the guys to go out and squeeze into a sports bar in downtown Chicago with the crowds. They’d yet to win their first Stanley Cup, Maggie recalled, and there wasn’t too much focus on them yet as the ’09-’10 season had yet to get underway.

She remembered Jon sliding up next to her and ordering a round of beer at the bar. The sheer number of bottles he’d ordered almost made her fall out of her seat. Instead, she made a face inter her own bottle.

“Sitting all alone at the bar?”

Maggie knew who he was – vaguely. Her brother was a Blackhawks fan and he’d dragged her to a few games. She might as well talk to him just to get something to rub in her brother’s face.

“My sorority sisters cancelled on me,” she sighed. “But this is the only place in town showing the Gamecocks game, so I’m not about to leave.”

“Gamecocks?” it was obvious Jon had never heard the term.

She swiveled in her seat to show her shirt, inadvertently giving him permission to stare right at her chest. Quickly, realizing what she’d done, she turned back the other way. “University of South Carolina.”

Jon nodded as he gathered up the bottles between his fingers and hands. “You, uh, mind giving me a hand?”

Maggie took a few bottles from the hockey player and began following him back to the corner where his teammates had accosted several tables.

“Word to the wise,” Jon turned to block her with his body. “Don’t mention the whole ‘Gamecocks’ thing. You’ll be sure to hear some ‘colorful’ humor about that.”

And colorful humor she heard. Before the night was over, Maggie found herself in fits of hysterics, her own bottle of beer completely forgotten at the bar. She hadn’t intended to stay with the group of hockey players, just drop off the bottles and then return to the college football game, but they’d roped her in.

But it wasn’t always fun and games. Over the following weeks, as the season approached, Maggie and Jon found themselves spending nights together very much awake and afternoons spent in the city they were both calling home. But each morning, as she prepared for her classes, Maggie was reminded what she’d run away from in the first place.

The beautiful diamond ring sat nestled in her jewelry box, covered by several bracelets. They’d called a break that past spring and Maggie had run off to Chicago, the ring in tow. But he’d called her – twice – and she was too scared to listen to the messages.

But soon enough, their fairytale came crashing down. It wouldn’t have lasted, Maggie tried to tell herself.

They blew up at each other in her apartment. He’d found the ring on her dresser after she’d gone rummaging for her sorority pin in her jewelry box. He’d known she’d been engaged, but Maggie hadn’t mentioned the fact that she still had the ring – much less the fact that they were really only on a break.

Jon had stormed out, almost never to be heard from again.