The Oxygen in My Lungs

Chapter 1

Do you know that numb feeling? The one where you coast through life barely aware of who you are and where you're going. You're not angry or depressed. You're just there. That was me. An empty shell of a human being with absolutely no direction in life. I was floating in a dark, cold abyss with no light in sight. Until I met HIM. He was the brightest, warmest light I have ever seen. In his presence, my body couldn't help but ascend out of the murky waters I slumbered in. His strong hands reached out to me, and finally, after all these years, I took a breath of air.

"Dad! Hold it higher or I'm going to drop it!"

Today was moving day. After graduating UConn with an international business degree I was ready to take on the world. Not really. It turns out there are two problems to graduating college: finding your dream job and figuring out if it even is the dream. Unfortunately, you need to sink a good sixty thousand dollars or so either way.

"Maeve, honey, are you excited to live all on your own?" my mom questioned while putting down the box she brought up.

"You know you can call whenever you need anything." Her voice was tinged with worry, but she tried to hide it behind a warm smile. Despite her strength, she'll be crying the instant my dad brings up leaving. It doesn't help that the move to Miami, a booming Southern metropolis with quite the nightlife, is eighteen hours from where they live.

"I will Mom. Don't worry I'll be just fine. Nothing can go wrong working a boring 9 to 5 business job". I say that as if I had any other grand plans when, in reality, my dreams died out long ago. I used to imagine I would be a wealthy businesswoman living in a condo at the top of a skyscraper. Kids really have the biggest imaginations.

"Be grateful it pays the bills," she says as if that's the most important thing in life.

"A job is a job. It doesn't matter if I hate it or not, right?" I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the pragmatism.

"You don't know if you hate it until you try it" my dad grumbled out while trying to shove my new IKEA couch through the tiny doorway. It's hard to be angry with him when he's helping me carry a couch up 3 flights of stairs in the sweltering summer heat, so all I could do was agree.

"You're right. It's good pay and I could learn something."

"Exactly," my dad said, content after hearing the defeat dripping from my voice, "it's a great entry level job that opens you up to all kinds of other opportunities."

I only got this job because he had the good sense to speak to one of the hiring managers at his software company. Apparently, the VP's last assistant had to leave for some unexplained family dilemma. As soon as they work it out, they'll be back, but until then, it's all mine.

I shouldn't be upset. I had no specific job in mind anyway. Ever since I was little, the only thing I wanted was to be left alone. I did my work, studied hard, and stayed out of trouble. Not that I had any other options with my dad constantly at work and my other siblings taking up all my mom's time. With all the attention away from me, I was free to do as I pleased. I ended up spending most of my time with my head in the books. I have a feeling that everything I learned there, won't even be close to what I need to survive Miami. Now I'm stuck going upriver without a paddle.

"Alright" my dad sat with a huff "looks like everything is about done." It was quite amusing watching him, with his tall stature, sit down on the little Swedish couch. I wish I inherited some of his height, but, no, I got the short gene from my mom.

"Did you need any helping unpacking and setting up the rest of your apartment?" I could hear the ache in my mom's voice to add her in her own decorative touch. She practically lives for decorating. I wouldn't be surprised if half my dad's income goes to her antics, granted the house does look pretty amazing.