Musical Chairs

“It’s just routine,” the doctor said after her checkup, “It’s just routine”. Little did Marne Lewis know that these mundane words would mark the moment that would change the rest of her life.

Marne could be described as a simple, fun loving, nurturing woman who loved nature, animals and being outdoors, but that would be a lie. In Fact Marne is none of those things. To be honest she is pushy, and manipulative. She could be the OCD poster child. She is meticulously neat and organized at all times. She doesn’t like animals and likes being outdoors even less, and although she loves her daughters Stevie and Scotti more than anything in the world, she raises them in the same orderly fashion that she lives her life. Some people might call her controlling. Others would say she is a royal pain in the ass.

Richard Lewis, Marne’s husband, is all the things that Marne is not. He is simple, fun loving, and nurturing. His idea of a good time is camping in the back yard with the girls or taking in a day game at Wrigley field with a beer and a hot dog with mustard and relish. They were an odd pairing but it worked nonetheless and they were happy.

They lived in a nice home in Chicago’s northern suburbs and they went about their lives in typical suburban fashion. The girls went to school; Richard went to work at the Lincoln Park Zoo, while Marne ruled the offices of the Ad agency with relentless intensity. After school the girls had soccer practice, Marne made dinner while Richard reviewed their homework, and then it was off to bed. On Sundays they would all attend the local Catholic Church where Marne could go to confession and clear her conscious of all the malicious things she had done or said during the week. This was their lives, disciplined, routine, and boring.

It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon when Suzy Clarke called. “Hi Marne, this is Suzy Clarke here,” said Suzy with her most bubbly tone of voice. “My open house could run a little long tomorrow and it’s my turn to be team mom for the girl’s soccer game. I know you’re busy but do you think Richard would mind filling in until I get there? You know how mean those girls can get if there aren’t any refreshments during the game, and he works the morning shift at the zoo, so he should have plenty of time. Do you think it would be too much trouble? Oh of course I’m sure Richard can handle it; he’s great with the girls. If you don’t mind I’ll just get his number from the phone tree and pass on the message. Thanks hun, I really appreciate it, tata.”

With those words the conversation was over. Marne had not gotten a word in edgewise, and somehow that damned Suzy Clarke had manipulated her husband into being team mom yet again. It’s not that Richard had any problem being team parent, in fact he rather enjoyed it, but Poor Richard, like most men, was merely an unaware participant in a real life game of musical chairs. Richard may not have made a lot of money, but he was very kind hearted. He was great with kids. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be, and he was very cute. He was tall, with wavy dark hair. There was a bit of grey sprinkled in on the sides and a few crow’s feet had begun to creep in around his eyes, but those eyes were his calling card. He could melt a woman’s heart with one look from those warm and caring eyes. He was soft to the touch but somehow he retained a sense of masculine virility and when he spoke his words were calming and smooth like an innocent childhood kiss on the cheek. He was a valued commodity and women knew it.

All the other mothers, most of them single, would somehow find their way over to the refreshment stand and casually bump into him in its very cramped quarters. There would be an inadvertent touch here or a coincidental tight squeeze between the hot dog bun warmer and the condiments where someone’s breast would be forced to rub across Richard’s chest with blatant sexual overtones.

Suzy Clarke was the worst offender. She was a curvy blond with legs that seemed to reach all the way to her neck. She was sexy, and very flirty. She could have any man she wanted and she knew it. She had gone through most of the eligible and some not so eligible men in town. It was rumored that she was the direct cause of at least one divorce maybe two and now she was on the prowl again.

First she set her sights on Tom Duncan the best gynecologist in the area, then after that she married and divorced John L. Smyth, the city’s leading attorney. How she got him to marry her without a prenup was an astounding feat in its own right, and then she married David Clarke and promptly took over his real estate business. He now lives in a roach infested motel down town somewhere, but at least he has worked his way up to top greeter at the local Pick and Save. Now, apparently she’s after a more nurturing man, and Richard was at the top of the list.

“I don’t think so!” exclaimed Marne, thinking out loud as she pulled her sport utility vehicle into the driveway. “I’m going to have to make time to be team parent tomorrow. I’ll take a half day. I’m sure my people can handle it. Somehow, that Suzy Duncan Smyth Clarke will find a way to get out of her open house in time to flirt with my husband and I’m not having it. She’s going to have to find someone else’s home to wreck.”

The next day Marne took a half day from work and arrived at the girls soccer game with drinks and refreshments, and just as she had thought, there was little miss Suzy Clarke leading the pack of hyena’s in flirtatiously helping Richard at the refreshment stand. Marne decided to sit back and watch the show for a moment when she was joined by their neighbor and friend Lucy Sloane.

“I’m surprised to see you here on a Thursday afternoon. What’s going on?” asked Lucy with a smirk, while taking a sip of bottled water.

“Oh, I just decided to come watch the girl’s game,” replied Marne. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to take time off. You know, I wanted to make sure I caught at least one game this season.”

“Hmmm,” said Lucy, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Floozy Clarke over there is team mom this week and has recruited Richard to be team dad does it?”

Of course Lucy was correct in her assumptions. She too knew of the legendary husband hunter Suzy Clarke, and enjoyed pushing Marne’s buttons whenever she could. Lucy had known Richard since elementary school and she cared for him very deeply, but for some reason it was not in the cards for their relationship to develop romantically. They would be the closest of friends until he met Marne, and although they remained close, there was now an imperceptible distance between them. There is only so much room in a man’s heart and the space that had been previously vacant had now been filled by the needs of being a husband and a father. Lucy was on the outside looking in, and sometimes, however unintentional it may have been, a hint of regret would cause her tongue to be sharp and swift. Most of the time she held her emotions and her mouth in check pretty well but today was not one of those days.

“She’s in rare form today,” said Lucy taking another drink of water while delivering a head nod in Suzy’s direction. “Those are the new strappy Michael Khors wedges she’s wearing, and those shorts and that top, are they from the new BCBG summer lineup? Well, somebody went to a lot of trouble for just a kid’s soccer game and she certainly didn’t get those calves from doing palates. You’ve got to hand it to her, whatever it is, she’s got it and she certainly knows how to work it.”

Marne continued to watch as Suzy moved around the tables, flicking her hair back and forth. It would have been almost comical if it had been someone else’s husband, but it wasn’t, it was Richard. She watched as Suzy smiled furtively as Richard passed a hot dog through the opening from the stand and clung to his every word. She watched as Suzy giggled at his stupid jokes and played helpless when opening the jar of pickles. Suzy was putting on quite a show, but when she bent over, lingering around the cooler giving Richard a clear view of both butt cheeks, Marne had seen enough. The show was about to come to a very abrupt end.

“No she didn’t,” exclaimed Lucy in shock. “Did she just do what I think she did?”

Marne was pissed. “You bet your ass she did,” said Marne taking off her ear and wedding rings. “That’s the last time this bitch is going to jiggle her bargain basement breast in front of my husband.”

Marne immediately marched across the field with Lucy close behind. Lucy’s eyes grew larger with every step as she could almost feel the searing heat emanating from Marne’s furrowed brow.

“Do you really think her boobs are fake,” questioned Lucy? “Let’s not be too hasty. Let me get the name of her plastic surgeon before you knock her out? I think I could use a little lift.”

“Lucy,” yelled Marne in disbelief.

“Well it never hurts to know a good plastic surgeon,” replied Lucy shrugging her shoulders. “I thought they looked pretty good.”

“I see that you managed to make it here after all,” began Marne in an irritated tone as she approached Suzy. “It would have been nice to know you were coming, then Richard could have stayed home and I would not have had to burn a half day of work to be here.”

“I’m so sorry,” replied Suzy maintaining her bubbly tone of voice. “I was able to get my assistant to cover the open house, and I thought to myself that it’s a real shame that some mothers choose work over their husbands and children. So when I had the chance to come and participate with the girls I just had to drop whatever I was doing and come right over. Richard has been such a big help,” she continued as she seductively glanced in his direction. “I just don’t know what I would have done without him today.”

“I’d like to know who you are referring to because some of us can’t just sit back and play house all day,” replied Marne with increasing frustration! “Some women don’t have the luxury of marrying into money. So excuse me if I have to actually work for a living, and I don’t neglect my children or my husband. I’d like you to know that my husband is very satisfied, thank you very much.”

“I see someone is a little sensitive today,” said Suzy with a smirk, “but now that you mention it you have missed your turn as team mom three times this season. That tells me that either you’re too busy or you just don’t give a damn about the needs of your family. So which one is it? On second thought don’t bother answering that question but it’s clear to me that someone won’t be winning mother or wife of the year honors any time soon.”

“Well at least I don’t have to parade myself around at children’s events in skimpy shorts and low cut tops, throwing myself at married men like the biggest slut in three counties!” responded Marne with a hand on her hip. “Hell you’re legs are just like a fast food restaurant, open 24/7 with over 6 billion served!”

“It’s not my fault, God made me this way,” replied Suzy flicking her hair with a sarcastic smile. “And apparently someone likes it. Dick honey, have you got that hot sausage link ready for me? I’ve been waiting all afternoon for it.”

No one called Richard Dick, not even his mother and certainly not Marne. Richard didn’t say a word or move a muscle. He was well aware that the slightest movement meant certain death. Beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead into his eyes but still he dared not blink. He had visions of rat poison in his morning oatmeal or maybe a mysterious brake failure on his way to work. There was only one thing he could do; so he swallowed hard and pretended he didn’t hear a thing. He closed the hood of the grill, took off his apron, and walked out to the stands to watch the remainder of the game.

Marne could have followed his lead but by now she was so angry steam was billowing from her ears and nostrils. She reached into the ice cold cooler. She grabbed the first soft drink she could find and began shaking the can.

“Since you’re so hot in the pants today,” said Marne. “Maybe I should help you cool off!”

Marne opened the can and sprayed the cold sticky soda right in Suzy’s face. It was an extremely satisfying moment for Marne and Lucy. The soda had sprayed all over Suzy’s face and hair and was now dripping down her chin onto her fancy designer clothes.

“I think she needed that,” chuckled Lucy. “If it were me I would have turned the hose on her!”

Suzy silently stood there dripping, completely stunned as Marne and Lucy walked away to join Richard in the stands. It had been quite the afternoon but as much as Marne hated to admit it, maybe that floozy had a point. Maybe she was neglecting her family needs a bit. As uncomfortable as it was she contemplated what Suzy had said on the way home. The girls went into the house and Richard and Marne stayed behind to talk.

“Richard,” she began slowly. “You’re happy aren’t you? I mean you’re happy with the life we have, with the girls, with me?”

“Of course I am,” answered Richard putting his hand on her thigh. “We have a great life. Why would you ask that? Aren’t you happy with our life?”

“I couldn’t ask for a better life,” she replied, “I have been extremely fortunate to have two wonderful girls and a husband who loves me. I just want to make sure that you are as happy as I am. I want to make sure that this isn’t just a dream, or some fairytale that I have imagined, and that the feelings we have are as real as I’ve always hoped them to be. I know I really made a fool of myself today, but to have someone question my love and my effort for you, Stevie, and Scotti is hitting below the belt. I’m doing the best I can but sometimes I think it’s just not enough, and I don’t want to lose my family to some tramp who has all the time in the world to get her hair and makeup done every day.”

“Look,” said Richard, “you and I, we live in the real world. It may not be filled with fancy clothes, and events with fancy dinners, but I am the luckiest man in the world to have my best friend and love of my life by my side every day. Relationships aren’t all trumpets and fanfare and sometimes life gets in the way. It’s true I’m not going to be the next Frank Lloyd Wright or Ernest Hemingway but I am smart enough to know that when life gives you a rose you don’t complain just because it may have a few thorns. Now let’s go inside. I didn’t get a thing to eat and I’m starved. I don’t suppose that meatloaf is still good. It smelled a little funny but I think I’ll have some anyway.”

With his last few words life was back to normal. Richard had a way of saying something profound and then following it with something equally stupid, but that was her Richard and Marne wouldn’t have had it any other way.

A few days later Marne received a call from the doctor’s office. They wanted her to come in so they could discuss her test results.

“Goodness,” Marne thought to herself. “Can’t they just tell me over the phone? I’ve already taken one half day this month, now I’m going to have to burn another one.”

“Can’t you just tell me the results,” complained Marne, “I signed all the paperwork and release forms.”

“I’m sorry,” said the nurse, “but I’m not allowed to discuss the test results, the doctor wants to speak with you regarding your treatment.”

Marne was quite irritated having to waste even more of her time in the doctor’s office for yet another unnecessary visit and expense, but she complied with the nurse’s request, and several days later she returned for her appointment.

“Okay Doctor Moore, what’s up, I got a new girl back at the office and I’d like to get back before she burns herself trying to make coffee, sets the building on fire, or just causes any mayhem short of a natural disaster. What do you need me to do? Do you have some vitamins you want me to take, or perhaps change my diet, what?” began Marne impatiently.

Doctor Moore looked at Marne sympathetically and began quietly flipping through Marne’s file. After a few seconds he pulled out several x-rays and began placing them on the viewer. He was normally quite social and even somewhat humorous most of the time, but today was different. Any normal person would have noticed the change in demeanor, Marne however, was much too self absorbed to be aware of anyone else, and she continued her light banter until the doctor abruptly interrupted her.

“We have two x-rays of your lungs Marne,” began the doctor. “The one on the left was taken two years ago, as you can see it is relatively clear. There are some small dark spots which we attributed to a bit of bronchitis that you were getting over. The one in the right was taken six months later, not only do the dark spots remain but there they have increased in number. Once again you came in with shortness of breath, back pain, etcetera. You were diagnosed with pneumonia, and prescribed antibiotics. On your most recent visit you again had similar symptoms and an increasing amount of back aches and pain, so we took a ct scan.”

Marne looked at the doctor with increasing impatience. How long was he going to prattle along about insignificant crap?

“Doesn’t he realize that I have more important things to do than listen to his babble,” She thought to herself. “Just give the damn script so I can pick it up on the way home before the pharmacy closes.”

“So what is it this time Doctor Moore? Some kind of upper respiratory infection right, bronchitis, pneumonia, what?” said Marne impatiently and rudely interrupting.

Doctor Moore paused for a moment. It was clear that he had been intentionally stalling; after all, he was a kind hearted man and hated delivering bad news.

“Marne” he began softly, “you have been diagnosed with a rare disease found almost exclusively in women called lymphangioleiomyomatosis. It is a disease where soft muscle tissue is growing over your lungs and slowly obstructing the small pathways eventually causing pulmonary cyst formation leading to chylouspleural effusion.”

“Doctor Moore, I don’t really understand what you’re saying. Look, give it to me in words I can understand.”

“Marne,” said Doctor Moore slowly. “These cyst will slowly grow on your lungs until your lungs stop functioning. There are some preliminary drugs on the market but they have had limited success in halting the disease. There is a transplant procedure that is a possibility but even that is a long shot if we can even find a donor. If we cannot find a donor this disease is usually fatal. I am sorry Marne.”

Marne sat in her driveway thinking about what Doctor Moore had said. Richard and the girls had gotten home before her and she watched them quietly through the large living room windows going about their day. Stevie and Scotti were arguing over nothing and doing the things that little girls do. She imagined them starting high school and learning to drive on their sweet sixteen like she did when she was a girl. She imagined them graduating college and getting married and what their husbands would be like. She thought of them having families of their own and what her grandchildren would look like.

Marne thought of all these things and for a brief moment she was at peace, but then she imagined the girls wearing make-up and cute, although extremely inappropriately short form fitting dresses. She imagined them shimmying down the drain pipe outside their bedroom window to meet some creepy, hairy backed, middle aged Vinny Barbarino type, while their kind hearted but incredibly naive, and somewhat stupid father was sound asleep just like she did when she was a girl. She imagined them drinking cheap booze and smoking cigarettes and marijuana in some teenagers basement wearing synthetic fabrics and bargain basement shoes. She could even imagine them pregnant and pole dancing in the back of Luau Louie’s bait, tackle, and social club.

“Okay, maybe that’s a little crazy,” she thought to herself. “I’m completely over reacting to what Doctor Moore said, besides I feel fine. I can’t believe that I’ve been going to that old crack pot all these years. It’s all a big conspiracy to make more money anyway. They’ll run more test and take more blood and just like that it was all a big mistake. Well I’m not having it. I feel just fine.”

Having completely talked herself out of believing the doctor, Marne entered her home unencumbered by the events of the day.

“I’ll sit down, polish off that bottle of Argentinean malbec that we got from Richard’s parents and maybe even read something without pictures and advertisements for a change. Richard said he would take care of dinner tonight, so I can sit back and relax a little. Hopefully he’s bought Chinese. If I have one more slice of pizza I’ll be down at dress barn buying a new wardrobe,” said Marne thinking out loud.

As she opened the front door a dark cloud of smoke billowed toward the ceiling and out through the doorway. Their large standard poodle was once again drinking from the toilet in their hallway half bath, and the girls were having a full on no holds barred wrestling match in the living room. The smoke detector was going off and Richard was standing on her decorative antique bench trying to take the battery out of the alarm, so much for the relaxing evening.

“Hi honey, I’m making spaghettio surprise and steak, after all, growing girls need their protein. I couldn’t get the grill out back to work. I guess the propane tank is empty, so I’m pan frying them on the stove. I hope you like them well done. The first couple steaks are a little crispy but I think I’m getting the hang of it now, besides some texture is good for food.”

Richard smiled at Marne. He was so proud of himself. She could see that he tried really hard to make dinner for her and the girls. It didn’t matter that he destroyed the kitchen and nearly set the house on fire, or that he had ruined 37 dollars and 98 cents worth of steak. It was the thought and the effort that made her smile and the fact that their dog “Happy” had now moved from the toilet to kitchen and was now licking the spilled spaghettio sauce from the sides of the cabinets and floor.

“Gross,” thought Marne to herself, “effective, but gross.”

“Richard,” began Marne putting her mommy hat back on. “That stool is over a hundred and fifty years old. Get the step stool out of the pantry and don’t track that spilled spaghettio sauce throughout the kitchen.”

She sent Happy outside to play in the back yard and sent the girls to their rooms to do their home work. She turned off the stove, ordered a pizza for delivery and began cleaning the kitchen for the next three hours with images of toilet germ infested dog slobber covering nearly everything. During the next few hours of scrubbing the red stained grout from the kitchen tiles life seemed to be perfectly normal. She had completely immersed herself back into her daily routine. Her life was hectic but she wouldn’t have it any other way. A busy, hectic life was a full and rewarding life and she worked hard to reach the level of success she had attained at work and at home, and she wasn’t going to back off one bit. Tomorrow was Saturday. That meant a light run with Lucy followed by the real work out at the gym. Running with Lucy was entertaining. She usually had the down and dirty neighborhood gossip and was always good for laugh.

The next day was beautiful. Chicago usually has only three seasons. Winter last nearly six months, then you wake up one day and it feels like the middle of summer. Today was different. Today Marne and Lucy had been blessed with a rare occurrence in Chicago, a spring day. The two women got up early that day. Without any traffic it was a short drive down to Lake Shore Drive, where hopefully they could find a place to park and start their run.

“Lucy,” began Marne, “You sure have a lot of energy this morning. What’s up with that? You’re usually struggling to keep up, and if I’m not mistaken, I believe I see the remnants of the smoky eye look. Did someone have fun last night?” joked Marne.

“Hmm… how’d you play it? Were you the easy virtue or did you go with businessman’s delight, or did you play hard to get with my all time fav repressed single mother?”

Marne and Lucy had names for their man grabbing techniques. The easy virtue was just as it sounds. It was mainly used for younger guys who had no real prospects as a long term mate. These men were not husband material but if you were lucky you got a fireman with bulging biceps, a great set of teeth, a full head of hair, and a fully functional hose ready to put your fire out. If you were unlucky you got a meal at the burger shack and a scrawny kid with a squirt gun instead of a hose, but either way they ended up the same, cheap quick and easy.

The businessman’s delight was usually reserved for happy hour at the best after work watering holes in town. These places are where the crème de la crème of young, upwardly mobile, eligible bachelors in the Chicago metropolitan area brag about their day. Of course navigating the shark filled waters could be tricky because although the pond is deep, it is also filled with the married guys who just need to unwind before their two hour commute back to the suburbs. As a single woman you just have to be careful you don’t waste your bait on a someone else’s catch. Friday’s are usually the best days for the businessman’s delight. It’s usually casual at work which allows for extra maneuverability in the wardrobe department. A slight freshening of hair and makeup after 5 p.m., a change of shoes, and a girl is ready to do battle with the best of them. After that it’s easy. You laugh at their comments whether it’s witty or not. You throw in a couple of naughty little hair flips, and you hang on their every word. Then you top it all off with a few well timed incidental touches. Combine all that with few old fashions with good bourbon and it’s a done deal. Then comes the tricky part, this is a long game not a short one. A marriage worthy catch must be allowed to breath like wine. You merely open the bottle and let it sit. You exchange information then most importantly you move on to the next fish. Landing a catch is a game of numbers after all, besides it will do him well to see that you will not be waiting around for him to call.

The all time favorite of most women seems to be repressed single mother or repressed catholic if you don’t have any children. Basically you flirt with an unsuspecting guy until he invites you out to dinner. Then all through dinner you act like you’re tired and ready to go home. When you get home you invite him up for a nightcap make an excuse to change out of your clothes then pounce on him like he’s the last size seven and half pair of designer shoes at Macy’s 50% off President’s day sale. Repressed catholic is even easier, you just throw in a ruler and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, but apparently none of these techniques were of use for Lucy last night.

“If you must know, I did have a date last night. If you can call it that,” replied Lucy. “Honestly it would have been more interesting just staying home watching paint dry.”

“No, surely he wasn’t a Sad Sam,” said Marne in horror.

There was one type of guy the girls detested more than any other. The obnoxious, arrogant, or perverted they could deal with. These types of men were dipped in the ink of pretentiousness and unearned expectation. They drove their daddy’s Ferrari’s and lived comfortably in the family brownstone on the Gold Coast. If you could dig past all the pretentiousness, and trust fund arrogance, you usually found a man with a penis the size of a salt shaker, and a massive inferiority complex. Despite their shortcomings “literally” they were never boring, and a girl could usually count on a good meal and a man who was eager to prove that technique and persistence were more important than pure size. Even though Lucy thought differently it was fun to watch them try, besides these guys were all douche bags anyway, and had no long term value. The Sad Sam, however, was completely useless.

The Sad Sam was usually a man who wants to prove he was not like other guys. He wants to show that he is sensitive, caring, and in touch with his feminine side. He wants to tell you about his previous relationships and use you as a sounding board for a cheap therapy session of analysis. At the end of the night you’re emotionally drained and all you have to show for your efforts are a tear stained blouse, and a Grande macchiato cappuccino from the local coffee house.

“Please,” said Lucy “It’s been so long I’m going to need more than just a plumber to clean out these pipes. I’m going to need a jackhammer, dynamite, and the Army Core of Engineers to get my water flowing again, besides I’m not even sure it’s worth the trouble. It’s been so long since I’ve waxed I’ve got a small village of Australian Bush people paying rent down there.”

“Lucy,” laughed Marne, “that might be a little too much information for my taste but there’s nothing that a few shots of tequila and a trip to Madame Curie’s couldn’t fix. Whatever happened to the days when having hair was a sign of woman hood? I remember being a little girl and just waiting for even a hint of hair down there, and now I’m paying a small fortune to be a little girl again.”

“Yeah, I tried it once,” said Lucy,”but after a couple of days the stubble was awful. I went around the office rubbing myself on just about anything I could find. I must have gone to the copy room about fifteen times that day. I pretty much violated two printers, the fax machine, a half dozen staplers and the refrigerator in the break room. Did you know it vibrates when the ice maker is running? If I find someone worth the trouble I might consider it but until then, I’m an au natural kind of girl.”

“Fair enough,” laughed Marne, “but in the mean time I’ll race you to Navy Pier, the loser buys lunch!”

This was their routine. The two women would walk and talk, unburdening themselves of all the crap they had accumulated during the week. Once they had loosened their bodies and unchained their minds they would run as far as their legs would carry them, because here in between the crashing waves and unrelenting traffic they were free to be themselves. There were no husbands or boyfriends, no kids, no frenemies, no fake smiles, or fake emotions. There was no makeup for the body or soul to hide behind; there was only the truth of two long term friends completely open to whatever the other had to say, without judgment or reservation of any kind. It was a true friendship in every since of the word.

The two women ran along the shoreline. Marne was quite fit and extremely competitive. One could say she was a sore loser but that would be an extreme understatement. As usual she jumped out to a lead, aggressively passing everyone in her path, calling out “left” as she passed. It wasn’t that she cared about being safe or courteous. No, Marne actually enjoyed the feeling of dominance and control over others, and she liked to make her dominance known vocally with every opportunity. At any given moment she could find another gear to blow by the other runners and usually Lucy struggled to keep up, but today was different. Today, Lucy was step for step and coming on strong.

“What’s up with this chick today?” questioned Marne, “I guess all those fiber bars must have loosened her up a bit, she’s really going at it.”

Marne reached the last turn before the mile long straight. She had kicked it into high gear for the final leg of the run and although she was giving it everything she had her energy and stamina were fading fast. She looked around and not only had Lucy passed her but so was everyone else. The air was becoming thick like she was trying to breathe through an old, wet cable knit sweater and her legs were as heavy as a child’s heart on a rainy spring day. The constant traffic flow of cars and people seemed to merge into a melted montage of blurry slow motion images that would be perfectly suited for an uptown impressionist art gallery. Marne had never felt like this before. It was painful and for the first time in her life she felt fear, a fear that was real, honest and as deep as she had ever felt. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down but a sharp excruciating pain shot through the left side of her chest. Her knees buckled as she grasped onto her sweaty jersey top and bent over toward the ground. She tried to think about what to do next but as the first blood filled cough emerged from her lips she could only stop to look up at the handful of clouds scattered amongst the open sky.

“I guess that quack was right.” She mumbled as she passed out landing face down onto the unforgiving concrete surface.