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The fluid surrounding Marcy’s body was thick and sticky, but she found it comforting.
She was in a comatose state, somewhere half between alive and dead. She was stuck in this tank. She didn’t know what the exact purpose was, but as long as she couldn’t feel anything, she was mostly okay with it.
She was trapped inside her own head, forced to be alone with her memories.
Some days brought happy memories.
“Sasha! Sasha!”
“Marcy!”
Marcy ran up to Sasha excitedly, the playground empty save for the two young girls. She grabbed her hands and pulled her over to the swing set.
“I have decided on a nickname for you.”
“Oh?” Sasha looked up incredulously.
“Yes.”
Sasha leaned against the rusty swing set. Marcy plopped down on one of the seats, swinging her legs idly.
“What is it?” Sasha asked, ponytail running over her shoulder in blonde waterfalls. Next year they would be in the fourth grade. Marcy was already sure Sasha would be the prettiest girl there.
Marcy pat her hands against her overalls, drumming. She smiled at Sasha, big and wide and adorable. “Sashy!” she finally cried, jumping up and hugging her best friend. When she pulled away, Sasha was smiling. “Do you like it? Do you like it?!” Marcy asked, bouncing on her toes.
Sasha ruffled her hair. “I love it, Mar Mar.”
Other days brought more tough ones to deal with.
“Marceigh, we’re moving.”
Marcy gasped. “What?!”
“Yes. Your father got a job out of state, and it’s a lot more money.”
“But-”
“No ‘buts’, young lady. We are moving and that’s the end of it.”
“No, please, no!” Marcy wailed. “Please!”
“The decision has already been made, Marceigh.”
Marcy fell to her knees, sobbing. “You can’t do this! What about Anne and Sash?!”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll make new friends in Connecticut,” her dad said coldly.
“CONNECTICUT?! That’s all the way across the country!!”
“Marceigh, please, calm down,” her mom tried to soothe her. Marcy cried into her hands.
“I hate you!” she yelled, getting up and running out of the house. A plate shattered behind her.
“Marceigh, please!”
“Get back here, young lady!”
Marcy hated that memory. It was the reason she was here now, the drive for everything that had happened over the past few months. She hated it. She wanted to go back to how things were.
“What’ll it be, Mar Mar?”
“Mint chocolate chip,” Marcy said without missing a beat.
Sasha laughed and rolled her eyes. “Weirdo.”
“Says the basic one with strawberry!” Marcy laughed in retaliation.
Sasha flipped her hair. “Please, basic is in my blood.”
“I thought your blood was German.”
Sasha laughed. “Oh Mar Mar.” Sasha walked up to the counter to order their ice cream. Marcy slid into the booth, looking out the window and watching birds fly by. It was a really nice day, the summer before the seventh grade. Marcy was counting down the days, and Sasha was insisting they spent every one doing something together. Sleepovers, movies, bike rides, ice cream…
“Technically I’m half German half Slavic,” Sasha said, sitting down at the booth across from Marcy. She handed her her bowl of mint chocolate chip and licked at her strawberry cone.
“Which slavic country?” Marcy asked, taking a bite.
“I dunno. It’s my mom’s side, though.”
“You should get a DNA test,” Marcy said.
Sasha laughed. “Maybe one day….”
Marcy couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t finished her sentence that day. She wondered desperately what went on in Sasha’s head. Sometimes, she didn’t even know what was going on in her own. She remembered the closest glimpse she had ever gotten.
“What’s that?”
“Vodka.”
“Alcohol?”
“Duh, Marbles.”
Marcy sat down on the rug, biting her lip. Sasha had invited her over for a sleepover because her parents were out of town, but she hadn’t invited Anne.
“Why didn’t you invite Anne?” Marcy asked, fidgeting with her sleeve.
“She was busy.”
Marcy hummed, wondering if that was true. Sasha took two cups and poured the alcohol into each one. Marcy watched in wide-eyed wonder. She was only twelve, she had never done anything like this.
“Have you done this before?” Marcy asked. Sasha nodded.
“Lots.” Sasha took one of the cups and downed half of it in one drink. Marcy watched in amazement. Sasha coughed. “Your turn.”
Marcy hesitantly picked up the cup, hands shaking. She tried her best not to spill it as she lifted the offending liquid to her mouth. It smelled horrible. She gave Sasha a weary smile.
“Are you sure I should do this?” she asked. Sasha nodded.
“It’s fine, I do it all the time.”
“Doesn’t this stuff kill?”
“Only if you aren’t careful. Now drink.” Sasha grabbed the bottom of Marcy’s cup and tipped it back, forcing her to drink. The alcohol burned as it filled her mouth. Marcy swallowed and pulled the cup away. She coughed, doubling over.
“That’s awful!” she cried.
“You get used to it.” Sasha took another sip from her cup.
Marcy dragged her finger around the rim of the cup. She looked up at Sasha, watching her.
Marcy didn’t feel much, but Sasha clearly was starting to. She was giggling about something.
“You know, they hurt me,” she said.
“What?” Marcy looked up. Sasha was crying now.
“My parents. They hurt me. The divorce hurts. The fighting hurts. It all hurts,” she admitted. Marcy took another drink from her cup. She nodded.
“My dad hits me sometimes,” she said.
“My mom used to give me something when I was little. I don’t know what it was. Some sort of juice.” Her words were slurring now. She locked eyes with Marcy. “You’re really pretty, y’know.”
“I am?” Marcy asked, scooting closer.
“Y-yeah.” Sasha set her cup down and moved closer.
Sasha leaned in, pressing her forehead to Marcy’s. Her breath smelled like vodka. Marcy’s breath hitched. Was this really happening?
Sasha leaned in, closing the gap. Her lips were dry but tasted like vanilla. Marcy hummed, eyes fluttering closed. Her body was tense but her mind had never been more at ease. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Sasha’s lips on hers, but it felt really nice.
And then it ended all too soon.