Life of the Party (73 page)

“Insensitive?”
I frowned.

“Yes.”
Fervently Riley shook his head. “I mean, some friend I am. You have
enough on your plate right now; you have enough to worry about
without having to … agonize over us … over the state of our
relationship. You know?” His dark eyes warmed to mine, his
expression sheepish. “Mac, you don’t have to answer that question.
Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want. Not until you’re really
ready.”

He was silent
for a long moment, waiting for me to look up at him. I gulped and
worked up the nerve to meet those dark eyes—so familiar, so full of
affection for me.

“Mackenzie,
yesterday I told you I love you, and I meant every word.” Riley
continued. “And I’m going to be here for you, Mac. Anything you
need, however you need me to be, whatever that entails. If you need
a shoulder to cry on, or a friend, a best friend … or more ….” He
shrugged. “I’ll be that for you. Just know that I’m … that I’m
here, okay? That I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

There was
definitely something wrong with me. Certainly any other girl in the
world would have had their heart melted by this moving speech, but
all I could feel was relief. I was nearly giddy with it. Things
didn’t have to change between us; things didn’t have to be ruined.
We could go back the way we were before his confession, before he
asked me that terrible question. Like nothing ever happened.
Gratefully, I looked up into the fathomless gaze of my best friend,
meaning to thank him. But suddenly I couldn’t speak.

He was looking
at me so fondly, so sincerely … I almost couldn’t bear to see it,
the genuine love reflected in his deep, dark eyes. And I knew then
with a sinking heart—no matter what happened or what Riley said to
the contrary—that we could never go back. We could never be just
friends again. Because he loved me. He really loved me.

Even now, as I
furiously tried to blink back the tears, he was holding my hand and
speaking such words of comfort—alleviating my every fear, putting
to rest any doubt and uncertainty his confession may have
caused.

“And, also …,”
he was saying, “I think you’ll like this. I’ve decided to put off
school until after the summer.” He announced with a smile. “So I
can come see you every day … maybe I can find a place in the city
or something. I’ll get a job while you’re in sober-living, and then
when you’re out, I’ll help you get settled ….”

I couldn’t
listen anymore, I just couldn’t. Not when he was promising me
everything I’d ever wanted, speaking those words that—just like
him—were too good to be true. The selfish part of me was heady with
relief, warming instantly to the idea, straining for me to agree.
It’d be so easy to give in, to say yes and let Riley put his life
on hold for me. But I knew I couldn’t let him. I knew it wouldn’t
be fair. He was doing this because he loved me. Truly loved me. And
I … I ….

I had to let
him go.

My eyes were
burning with tears as I opened them, trying to strengthen my flimsy
resolve. “Riley, no. Don’t be crazy.” I forced the words out. “You
need to go back to school.”

He stared at
me, momentarily stunned. “… Why?”

“Because.
You’ve put off your life for too long already.”

“Mac, we’ve
gone over this and over this.” Riley rolled his eyes at me. “I told
you already, that doesn’t matter to me. I’m here for you.”

“I know.” God,
this was hard. Harder than I’d ever imagined. I was torn. Half of
me wanted to grab onto him, to hold on tight, to never let go. The
other half … the other half just watched. Determined, strengthened
somehow, her eyes shining with tears as she told her best friend to
leave her. “I know you’re here for me, and I’ll never be able to
thank you for everything you’ve done. But Riley … just … just trust
me, okay? I’ve let this go on far too long already.” I bit my lip.
“You should go back to school.”

He eyed me
darkly. “Why? You don’t need me anymore?”

“No,” I shook
my head vehemently. “No, that’s not it, at all. I just … I want to
do what’s best for you, for once. You know? I mean, you’ve been so
amazing to me. I want to return the favour.”

“Really?” Riley
chuckled, raising his eyebrows at me. “That doesn’t sound like
you.”

“I know,
right?” I laughed mirthlessly. “But I have to start somewhere.”

“What if it’s
not your decision to make though? What if I want to stay?”

“No. You can’t,
Riley.” I implored him. “Please. I mean, you’re my best friend in
the whole world, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.” I
gazed up at him, my eyes wide and soft. “Can you just trust me?
Trust me when I say … its better that you … go. I need you to go,
Riley. Please?”

Riley just
stared at me, defiant as he mulled over my words, like he wanted to
argue with them. But then he stopped. I don’t know what he saw in
my gaze, I don’t know what he read there. But then—like some
terrible conclusion had taken place in his mind—he suddenly
deflated, slumping down in his seat, casting his eyes down to the
floor. My heart beat profusely in my chest as I watched him,
wanting desperately to reassure him. I wanted to tell him how hard
this was for me, how every single bone in my body was screaming for
him to stay … but I knew I couldn’t. There’d be no convincing him
to go if he knew how much this hurt.

“Go back to
school.” My throat ached with the unshed tears burning down my
throat, but I tried to smile for him. “Trust me Ry,” I stated
softly then, “I’m doing you a favour here.”

“Yeah.” Riley
scoffed. “Sure.” He muttered. And as he lifted his eyes back to
mine, soft with hurt but still warm with affection, I knew he
believed anything but.

The day had
finally come. That morning, when I opened my eyes, I couldn’t
believe it. I couldn’t believe it was all over. That day I was
free. Rehab was done. I was going home.

Slowly I
prepared myself in the bathroom—washing my face, combing my hair,
applying my make-up, brushing my teeth. It took all my effort all
morning to try and remain calm. I concentrated all my energies on
the most mundane tasks, anything that would keep me from thinking
about what was coming next. Finally I stood back, let out a shaky
breath, and stared at myself in the mirror. I was done. I was
finished.

But I was
nowhere near ready.

My heart was
pounding in my chest, and not with excitement. I should’ve been
like Allison, jumping off the walls excited at the prospect of
going home. I think most people usually were. But I wasn’t. I was
anything but excited. Terrified, more like. When once these walls
had seemed stifling and claustrophobic, now I would’ve given
anything to stay within the safety of their confines, away from the
world waiting at the doorstep.

It wasn’t to be
though. Riley was coming to take me home, back to my parents. I was
anxious about seeing them again too, I didn’t know what to expect,
how to act, who to be around them now. But nothing could make me so
nervous as just the thought of being out on my own. A pit of
anxiety gnawed at my stomach. As if taunting me, the craving for
heroin flared up inside, like it knew we’d taste fresh air again
soon; like it knew that nothing but my own willpower would stop me
from finding some dope and injecting it straight into my veins. It
was testing my strength, trying to make me cave. I prayed fervently
that somehow, somewhere, I’d find the will not to give in.

“Hey,” there
was a gentle rapping on my door. “Are you decent?”

“Oh, hey Ry.” I
grabbed my make-up off the counter and headed back into my bedroom.
The instant I saw him, I smiled. I couldn’t help myself; he just
had that affect on me. His very presence was comforting. Already I
could feel myself relaxing, could feel myself strengthened, could
feel the tension ease.

But things had
still been understandably … different between us lately. I had
given it a lot of thought over the last few days, a lot more than I
expected to. I found it was nice to realize—just in the middle of
whatever I was doing—that Riley loved me. I’d stop, and I’d
remember, and the thought would make me smile. I mean, who wouldn’t
want to be loved? It didn’t mean anything; it was just really nice
to … know.

That was the
pro of the situation. The con was the sudden awkwardness that would
spring up between us, the constant elephant in the room. With every
word we spoke to each other, there was no forgetting what he’d said
and what I’d said and what had happened—like a white noise in the
background, there no matter how we tried to ignore it. Every look,
every moment of silence spoke volumes.

Riley loves
Mackenzie, but she’s making him leave.

And I was.
Riley was going—he was getting on a plane that very night, heading
back to school. In my deepest heart I knew it would be better that
way. He’d forget me soon enough. Maybe … maybe he and Emily would
even get married. I frowned darkly at the thought, shuddering,
deciding instantly that I hated the idea.

“Mac?”

I shook my head
and gave him a smile. “Sorry … I was just ….”

“Stressing?” He
smiled knowingly at me. I felt my cheeks blush crimson and nodded
guiltily.

“Yeah. Stupid,
right?”

“Not at all. A
little fear is good. It shows you want the right things.”

“Does it?”

“I don’t know.”
Riley smiled. “Just trying to sound wise.”

“Oh.” I tried
to laugh, but it sounded strained. I threw some last minute things
into the suitcase lying open on my bed and then zipped it up. It
reminded me vaguely of my birthday, when Riley had called me out of
the blue and then I decided—in a panic—that I had to see him. How
I’d been desperate to see him. Until I remembered Emily.

“You look
really pretty today, Mac.” Riley stated suddenly, interrupting my
hateful thoughts his warm, familiar voice. I could feel his eyes on
me.

His words were
flustering. I felt my cheeks blush even redder, but secretly I was
glad he noticed. It was sick actually … it was really wrong of me,
but I couldn’t help it. Riley had professed to love me, and though
I couldn’t return the sentiment—though I knew it wasn’t really
fair—for some reason, I didn’t want him to stop loving me, either.
The two opposing sides of me were constantly warring with each
other. But today—knowing that my time with Riley was dwindling—I’d
given in to the selfish side. I’d actually put some real effort
into myself, mostly because I needed something to preoccupy my
thoughts, but also because I wanted to look … good for him.

My make-up was
all done and my hair hung in curls around my shoulders. My clothes
were still a little baggy, but not as loose as they had been. I
wore blue jeans, my old black skater shoes, my blue Three Stones
fireball shirt and a grey zip-up hoodie overtop. It seemed
right—comfortable and fitting, an outfit I used to wear all the
time before Charlie took me under her wing and totally glammed me
up. It was more … me.

“You mean, I
don’t look as scared as I feel?” I asked in an attempt to act
causal. Riley picked up my suitcases and flashed me a grin.

“I didn’t say
that.”

I laughed and
followed him to the doorway. There, I turned and cast one long,
last look at my old room—at my old life, over now. I sighed and
flicked off the light, and then shut the door behind me.

I said all my
goodbyes to the staff and to some of the other girls, to my group
leader and my old, decrepit therapist. They all wished me the best
and gave me many words of encouragement, approving my decision to
move into a sober-living facility before totally striking out on my
own. It was the best chance I had for staying sober. I had to take
it. I needed all the help I could get.

So then—armed
with a deep, exciting and newfound love for God, the various coping
skills I’d been taught and ninety days of sober living under my
belt—I was released back into society. It was the beginning of
April. I breathed deeply the air outside; softer now that the harsh
crust of winter was spent. It was still cold out, but the sun’s
rays held some warmth. I could feel the promise of spring in the
air as Riley loaded my bag into the back of his car. The promise of
life. Of renewal.

“Ready for
this?” He asked me with a grin. At once, I felt a familiar pang of
regret as he looked at me. Dressed now for the weather, Riley wore
a dark red toque and wide black sunglasses. When he smiled at me I
barely recognized him; he was just so … handsome, so grown up. I
dropped my gaze before he could see the sudden sadness in my
expression. If only I felt something for him, this would all be so
much easier.

“Yeah.” I lied,
forcing a smile. “So ready.”

I didn’t
realize how uptight I was until Riley pointed out my clenched fists
in the car. I looked down at my lap and relaxed my hands, giggling
nervously. We were only about ten minutes from my parents’ house,
and each mile made my heart thud that much harder. I was so afraid
to be home, afraid to be back in town, afraid of the familiarity
that could bring back much of my heartbreak. Afraid of the sights
and sounds and smells that would make me want to use again. Even
though I was only going to be back home for a night—until my room
at the SLF was ready—the interminable hours stretched before me,
overwhelming with the opportunities they presented.

Riley pulled
the car up at the curb in front of my house. My home was the same
as always, but it still looked … different, somehow. Marcy and
Greg’s black Jag was in the driveway. The snow was melting off the
roof, dripping down the eavestrough. The sky above was still grey,
but the wind had turned warm in classic Chinook form.

“It looks like
it might rain.” I noticed, staring up at the sky, attempting to act
casual—normal—although my heart was hammering away in my ribs. I
wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans and let out a shaky
breath.