Life of the Party (32 page)

I saw Riley and
me when we first met, when he had been shy and reserved, and I had
grabbed his hand and forced him to come and play with me. The third
grade when I had peed my pants and Riley leant me his gym shorts so
no one would know. Climbing the big hill in our neighbourhood and
eating plums at the top. Countless birthdays and Christmases and
presents he’d given me. Getting his car stuck in the ditch a few
winters ago, when he’d let me sit in the warm car while he
shovelled and pushed us out. The hundreds of times we’d gotten
wasted together. I remembered it all, just then, as the lyrics to
the Green Day song played dimly in my mind.

“
It’s
something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right.

I hope you had
the time of your life.”

“Hey,
Mackenzie, you okay?” Abruptly Grey stopped playing and he looked
up at me with concern.

“What, yeah,
I’m okay.” It was hard to talk.

“You’re
crying.” He took the guitar off and placed it back in its stand. I
wiped the tears from my eyes; I hadn’t even realized they were
there.

“Come here.”
Grey pulled me to him, wrapping his strong arm around my back and
cradling me against his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That
was beautiful … you play amazing.” I sniffled. I hated that I was
letting Riley ruin our time together. “It’s stupid, I’m just …
drunk. I’m sorry, Grey. Just forget about it.”

His blue eyes
were pensive for a moment, and then a sudden thought occurred to
him. “You’re thinking about Riley, aren’t you?”

My silence was
the same as a yes. Grey sighed heavily.

“Mackenzie …
are you in love with this guy or something?”

“What? No.” I
sat up in earnest. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

Grey shrugged.
“You spend a lot of time being upset over him.”

“I’m not upset
over him, I just … he’s like my brother, you know? And I’m, I’m
drunk and that song made me nostalgic and ….” I looked up at him.
“I’m really sorry, Grey, honestly, you have nothing to be jealous
of.”

“I’m not
jealous.” He shook his head. “It’s just … it’s pretty obvious.”

“Oh, Grey, no.”
I sat up on my knees and grasped his hands, looked up into his
face, imploring him. “Please, don’t think that way. You’re on my
mind, like, all the time. Riley’s just my friend, I mean, he’s not
even my friend anymore, really ….” I shook my head, angry at myself
for letting this happen. Furiously I pushed any feelings and all
thoughts and images of Riley from my mind, determined not to let
them surface again, ever. We were over; we were done. I wouldn’t
let his very memory ruin things for me. I promised myself that I
would never agonize over Riley McIntyre ever again.

Ever.

“Grey.” I
looked up into his deep blue eyes, into his perfect, tan face,
darkened by just a hint of stubble. His lips were hard as he looked
down at me, his face tense. I knew what I had to tell him, but the
dim memory of how this information had last been received made me
hesitate a moment. I shook the unpleasant image from my mind and
took a deep breath, working up the courage.

“You don’t have
to worry, Grey, at all. Because I love you.
You
.”

Inwardly, I
braced myself for rejection. Outwardly, I was calm and hopeful,
waiting for his reaction. I watched as Grey softened at my words,
watched his jaw relax and his lips curve into a smile. He looked me
over warmly for a moment.

“You’re a bit
dramatic, aren’t you?” He chuckled.

“Why does
everyone always say that—?”

My words were
cut off then as he, smiling, swept me up in a kiss.

I moved into
Charlie’s house on a Friday. Mom and Dad came to help, but I really
didn’t have much stuff—just my bed and my dresser and a few
suitcases of clothes, a box of pots and pans and a set of dishes I
was given for graduation. Dad put my bed frame together in
Katrina’s old room for me. We could hear him grumbling as Mom and I
put my dishes away.

Charlie and I
snuck excited smiles at each other, neither of us could wait for my
parents to leave so we could get good and high. Mom didn’t like the
place, I could tell, but at least she approved of Charlie. From the
look of her she was a sweet, well-dressed, pretty young lady, very
proper; of course mom would like her. She never would have guessed
that Charlie was my biggest source of illicit fun.

Finally
everything was unpacked. My dad looked fairly unaffected but I
could tell my mom was stalling, putting off saying goodbye to me
for as long as she could. For the last week or so I think she’d
been in denial that I was actually moving out. Amidst all my
packing and planning, maybe she thought I’d change my mind. But I
would never stay at home now, not when I’d realized how awesome
it’d be on my own. Even if my parents renounced all their rules and
their Nazi-ness, which they hadn’t, I wouldn’t even consider
it.

My ultimate,
total freedom was just minutes away from fruition. Mom was cleaning
everything she could get her hands on in an attempt to prolong the
inevitable goodbye, and I could tell my dad was getting impatient.
The entire house was sparkling by the time they finally gathered
their things to go.

Dad gave me a
pat goodbye and his face was smug, like he expected me to come
crawling back home once I discovered how tough it really was out on
my own. I kissed his cheek, smirking to myself. I’d show him.

Mom had a tough
time leaving. She wrung her hands, her expression pained.

“You be sure to
call us, if you need anything.”

“I’ll call.” I
nodded.

“You can come
home, you know, if you change your mind.”

“Mom, I’m only
ten minutes away.” It was hard not to roll my eyes.

“I know, but
it’s not the same.” She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing,
and then pulled me into a sudden, fierce hug. “I can’t believe I’m
an empty-nester. It’ll be so lonely at home without you there.”

I grimaced.
Welcome to the last two years of my life, I wanted to say. But when
Mom pulled away from me, there were actual tears swimming in her
sad eyes, so I bit my tongue and just smiled sympathetically
instead.

“You remember
the deal, right? You have to come home on Sundays for dinner.”

I sighed. How I
had ever agreed to that little clause was unbelievable. Mom must
have cornered me at an especially weak moment or something. She’d
been so nice to me all last week and when she asked me to come home
every Sunday for supper, I just … gave in. I still don’t know why.
Dinner with Marcy and Greg was probably my most hated event of the
whole week. I’d rather clean the men’s bathroom at the Red Wheat
than sit across the table from those two. But for some reason I had
agreed to it, and from the look on Mom’s face now, she’d be crushed
if I didn’t show.

“Yes, alright
mom. I’ll be there.” I was getting impatient. All I wanted to do
was get high and I hadn’t realized my parents would be hanging
around for so long. I thought it’d be more of a drop off my stuff
and leave kind of thing, but they’d been there for hours now,
sharpening my craving for cocaine by the long, drawn out
anticipation.

“Come on, Deb.”
Dad nearly growled. “I’ve got to pack for tomorrow yet.”

“Okay, Mitch.
Okay.” Mom sighed and nodded. “Goodbye Mackenzie.” She kissed me on
the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” I
managed a tight smile. “I’ll see you in two days, Mom.”

“Right. Bye,
honey.”

“Bye.” Eagerly
I shut the door behind them and leaned against it for a moment. I
sighed in relief. “Finally. I didn’t think they’d ever leave.”

“You’re so
dramatic. They’re not that bad and they didn’t stay that long.”
Charlie argued with a grin. She was already cutting up the coke for
us. I listened as my parents’ car pulled out from the curb and then
drove on down the street. They were gone. Finally, we were alone. I
was free.

I felt so
light-hearted I was nearly giddy. I could do anything, everything I
had ever wanted to do. I could go anywhere. I could stay up as late
as I wanted. I could smoke in my house. I could do copious amounts
of totally illegal drugs and there was nothing that anyone could do
about it.

I giggled and
lit a cigarette, then sniffed back a hard line, just to prove my
point.

Charlie and I
hung out by ourselves for a while, celebrating the start of our new
beginning and the best summer ever. We got majorly high on cocaine.
I loved that I didn’t have to worry about trying to find a ride
home and acting half-ass sober when I got there. I was home. I
could get as wrecked as I possibly wanted and just head down the
hallway to bed. This was freedom. Sheer, complete,
irresponsibility.

The guys came
over to help us celebrate. We drank and got high and partied late
into the night. When finally I fell onto my bed, drunk and sleepy,
I stared out at the dark, still night sky through my bedroom
window. My life was really beginning, I could feel it. I grinned at
the moon, white amidst the silver clouds. The stars were twinkling
in the sky, the country lights bright and pretty on the horizon.
The whole world spread out before me, and I could experience all
its secrets now, everything it had been hiding, all the wonder it
had been keeping from me. No longer would I be sheltered from what
was out there.

I fell asleep
with a smile on my face.

I could hear
them giggling on the other side of the door. Quickly and as
silently as I could, I sniffed the coke up my nose and pinched my
nostrils together. I stood a minute, motionless as the drugs hit my
veins and spread throughout my system. Relief hit me and I let out
a heavy, shaky breath.

“Mackenzie, I
need the bathroom.” Marcy knocked curtly on the door.

“Yep. Be right
out.” I shoved the drugs back into my purse and wiped at my nose,
checking quickly in the mirror to make sure there was no evidence
left. I opened the door and smiled at my sister as I passed by—much
calmer now, much more in control of myself. She didn’t look my way
even once.

Marcy’s wedding
was in three weeks and we were at the dress shop for the final
fittings of the wedding gown and our bridesmaids dresses. I could
not imagine a more vivid portrayal of my personal hell on earth.
Marcy’s two snobby friends, Whitney and Marie—A.K.A the maid of
honour and the other bridesmaid—were sipping champagne from their
flutes, talking in hushed tones with their arms crossed and
glancing my way every now and again. It was obvious they were
talking about me, but I didn’t care. They were both in college, so
I think that made them feel horribly smart and very above me,
especially given my current condition.

Of the two
bridesmaids, I liked Marie best. Whitney was the prettier one and
had obviously been uber popular in high school, as she still liked
to act superior to everyone even though she had gained noticeable
weight over the years. She was tall with long blonde hair and hazel
eyes; she had a really pretty face. Marie was plainer, but she had
a better personality, more humour. She could have been really
pretty if she tried a bit more, like if she dyed her mousy brown
hair and maybe waxed the uni-brow. She was thinner than Whitney,
though shorter, and this seemed to put the two girls on even
turf.

And they were
both looking at me now like I was someone to be pitied.

I ignored them
as best I could from where I sat slumped over silently in my chair,
horribly sleep deprived and somewhere in between hung over and
still drunk. I whiled away the unfortunate time lost in my own
meandering thought, impatient for the day to be over so I could go
back home and pick up where I left off the night before. My friends
would already be partying, and I hated missing out.

The summer had
been awesome so far, everything I hoped it would be. Every night
after work Charlie and I came home and blew all of our tips on
booze and cocaine and cigarettes and weed and whatever else we
wanted to do that night. Most nights Grey and Zack and Alex would
come over after band practice and party with us until the wee hours
of the morning. We all got so drunk and high that most times we
just passed out wherever we happened to be sitting.

Charlie and
Grey and I all worked the evening shift full time at the
restaurant. Work was a ton of fun with all three of us together,
but even then I’d count down the hours until we were free to go
home and start the party all over again. There seemed to be no end
to my energy. I’d stay up every night until four or five in the
morning, wake up about eleven, do some cocaine, get ready for work,
work from about four until ten, and then get wasted the rest of the
night. It was awesome—I couldn’t get enough of it, I loved hanging
out with my friends.

Those were just
the weeknights. On the weekends, we went all out. Grey’s band had a
show nearly every Saturday, so Charlie and I would come watch them
at the club, crazily high on E or drunk and high on cocaine or
stoned on weed or mushrooms, whatever we had on hand, whatever
would totally fuck us up. Those were the best nights, I so looked
forward to Saturday, when I could watch my gorgeously hot,
unbelievably talented boyfriend rock and sing and seduce me with
his guitar. Afterward, we’d all meet up in the VIP room and do some
more cocaine and drink more booze and party until the house lights
went up and we all had to go home.

Sunday, as per
the promise to my mother, I would drag my tired, bedraggled, sick,
hung over ass to my parents’ house for dinner. Most of the time I
was still drunk and high from the night before, and I would sit at
the table as I came down, pushing the food around on my plate as
the substance leaked slowly from my system. I must’ve smelt
terrible, and I certainly didn’t add much to the
conversation—grunting for most my answers and groaning for the
others. I wondered if my mom regretted asking me to come over. I
knew she didn’t like how I was behaving—her nose did the flare and
I could tell she was disappointed by my actions and my choices. But
she still couldn’t stop me, none of them could. Dad ignored me for
the most part, and though Marcy and Greg acted shocked, they seemed
to enjoy my total lack of propriety. I think it made them feel good
to “tsk tsk” about me behind my back.