May 22nd, 1989
Maggie's fingers find the curly tendrils of dark hair that frame her face like a halo. The woman's nails had grown uneven and peeled, a consequence of her teeth ripping into them incessantly. She wraps the curl around her finger tightly, reveling in the delight of her blood circulation slowly seizing, before unwinding the curl. She mechanically repeats this action as she waits for Cleo to emerge from the dirty, smelly gas station.
She had ventured in to grab two packs of cigarettes; one for Maggie, and the other for herself. Jenny did not partake in the habit, and always urged the two other women to quit. Maggie could not imagine the strain of tobacco tugging on Jenny's sweet southern voice.
Her dull eyes remain focused on the door of the gas station as she awaits Cleo and her pack of Camels. The cold unforgiving absence of nicotine caused an uneasy, jumpy feeling to arise in the pit of her stomach. Her knee bounces up and down anxiously and her hair continues to strangle her slim pointer finger.
The grimy glass door of the gas station swung open. A white plastic bag is tucked between Cleo's nimble fingers. She walks briskly and purposefully towards the car. Maggie unlocks the doors. Cleo slides into the drivers seat.
Her hand fishes around the bag, and out came a much anticipated pack of Camels. Maggie let out a sigh of relief, immediately taking the cancer from Cleos hand. "Thank you," she breathes as if Cleo had slain a beast for the pack of cigarettes. "No problem."
She buckles her seatbelt, then starts the car, and swiftly backs out of the small lot. Maggie opens her pack and pulls out one cigarette. Shaky fingers place the stick between her cracked lips. Those same fingers retrieve a rusty silver lighter from her duffel bag.
The orange flame dwindles pitifully as she desperately lights her cigarette. It offers a warm glow in the dim car for the slightest moment, before darkness consumes the vehicle once again.
Bliss immediately washes over her like an ocean. Her muscles become relaxed and the jumpy feeling that courses through her lessens. Her eyes shut and she leans back against the seat. Cleo glances at her silently.
Jenny and her had been more concerned for their friend than usual. Maggie had always been dull, dwindling in the same fashion as her worn lighter, but lately pieces of the woman had begun to dissolve, fizzling into dust. Her soul seemed to grow weaker with each passing day. The flame trembled with not an ounce of resilience, just exhaust and pity.
Cleo's features harden with worry.
She bites the inside of her cheek and does her best to ignore the tears that consume her vision.
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June 3rd, 1989
The door to the apartment swings open. Jenny's innocent, curious eyes wander up from the magazine placed in her hands. They meet a worn looking Maggie. Her duffel bag falls to the floor with a soft thud. She lifts her head slightly to look at Jenny. "Hey."
She walks over to the couch, and effortlessly falls onto a stained ripped cushion. "Hi. Was work ok?" She asks gently, her voice flowing easily like honey. "Yeah. What've you been up to?" She asks. Jenny can see right through her friends dark eyes. She can see the numbness from a long period of suffering, yet the agony and pain burn fiercely within her.
Jenny swallows the lump in her throat, her heart crumbling into ash silently. She shrugs her shoulders. "Nothing much. Talked to my parents on the phone, read, the usual," she answers with nonchalance. Maggie nods. "And where's Cleo?" She asks, switching on the TV. "Went to get some tampons for me," she laughs, a red tint staining her cheeks.
Maggie feels nothing, but loved Jenny, and cannot stand to disappoint the sensitive girl, so she forces out a chuckle. It feels like a knife being dug into her heart, but the pain is worth it. Jenny's laughter was so infectious, so warm and bright. It hurt not to laugh along with her,
So she did, despite the ungodly anguish.
Jenny silently eyes her friend, who mindlessly stares at the television, dead eyes glazed over as the bright colors and sounds do not manage to cure her. At the tender age of 25, she looks halfway dead, burnt out and dry of substance.
Jenny swiftly wipes her eyes before Maggie can notice her tears.
"Kurt called," she says, cocking her head towards the phone. Maggie barely reacts. She slowly turns her head toward Jenny. "I'll call him back tomorrow," she mutters. She cannot deny the feeling of pity that tugs at her heart strings. It is the first raw emotion she's felt all day. She feels like a bitch for ignoring him, but she lacks the energy to continue to uphold the heavy mask of sanity she wears.
She needed to let her true colors show for just a few hours.
"Well, I'm going to bed," she announces, rising from the couch. As she walks by Jenny, she outstretches her arm, squeezing the younger woman's shoulder gently. Jenny forces a soft smile that masks her worry. "Goodnight."
As Maggie disappears into her dark bedroom, Jenny sobs quietly into a pillow, praying for her sick friend.
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The heavy feeling of dread sits on Maggie's shoulders as she dials Kurts number slowly. Annoyance streams through her veins, thicker than blood. She knows she cannot truly be angry with Kurt for simply calling her, but logic does not dissolve her feelings of irritation.
She cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder, her lips pulled into a tight frown. The quiet ring of the phone sounds like a horribly irritating siren, replaying over and over like a mantra in Maggie's head. Kurt finally picks up.
"Hello?" "Hey, it's Maggie," she says, masking the rugged exhaustion she suffers from behind a tone of neutrality. "Hey, how are you?" He asks. Maggie knows the words that leave her mouth next will be an utter fabrication.
"I'm good, just busy with work," she lies, fiddling with the cord of the telephone. "And you?" He lets out a sigh. "Stressed, anticipating the release of our album," he says, laughing nervously. Maggie's usually narrow, dim eyes widen slightly. She had completely forgotten about the album in her latest depressive episode. She clears her throat, and musters up a few words of encouragement for him.
"Don't be nervous, Kurt." It's all she says. She hopes it offers something that resembles sympathy. She truly does care for the younger man. He was sweet, honest, shy. But an odd mixture of numbness and pain has ravaged her body and soul, infesting her brain like a thousand tiny parasites, crawling into every nook and cranny of her mind and feasting on whatever the young woman had left to offer.
She was tired,
So so tired.
Kurt clears his throat, the momentary quietude uncomfortable. "Would you like to come to the release party? It's just a small gig than drinks afterwards," he asks, raspy voice small with fear of what Maggie might say.
The thought of a social function makes her skin crawl. She imagines the heavy burden of the mask, the exposure, and the torment of pretending. The friendly offer reads as an invitation to the fiery pits of Hell.
But Maggie feels she has been so disappointing as of late. She feels the need to atone,
Even if it feels like a rough blow to her gut.
"Y-Yeah, of course! Just give me the time and the place." The forced emotion steals the few grains of energy she has left, like hungry leeches sucking the last of her blood. She loathes the pain and the heavy, twisted guilt she feels as she lies through her teeth.
Kurt gives her the date, time, and venue. She haphazardly scribbles the information down onto a stained notepad. "I've gotta get ready for work, but I'll talk to you soon. Thanks Kurt," she says, front teeth clamping down onto her bottom lip in agony. "Bye Maggie."
She immediately drops the phone, rubbing her hands over her face in a panicked frenzy. She feels so mortified, so cruel, so weak, so tired. The lies and many facades have diminished her over and over again. She feels like a hollow shell, an empty promise, failing to be fulfilled.
"Hey, what'd Kurt say?" Cleo asks, peeking her head out of the kitchen. "Invited me to their album release party. You and Jenny should come with me," she explains, silently hoping her friends agree to tag along. Thankfully Cleo nods. "Of course we will." She then disappears back into the kitchen, the sweet scent of Bougatsa lingering in the air.
Maggie removes her mask and lets the pain reveal itself once again.
YOU ARE READING
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Fanfiction"my heart is broke, but i have some glue. help me inhale, and mend it with you."
