Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  “Yeah, sure,” I barely looked at her, “hey, Ry, do you think I could talk to you for a minute?” My voice was a raspy whisper.

  “Yeah, of course. I’ll just be a minute, okay Em?” He smiled again at her. “Save me a seat?” She nodded submissively and grinned.

  “Sure. Just don’t be late, okay? Bye Mackenzie, nice to see you.”

  I gave her a tight smile. It was probably more like a grimace, but at least I tried. Emily galumphed off down the hallway and I let my breath out, the tears held at bay for the moment.

  “So, are you okay or what? You look kind of terrible.” Riley smiled, opening his locker to exchange books. “Late night or something? Can’t say I miss that. You’re looking at a full eight, every night. I’ve never felt better.”

  “That’s really great, Ry.” I tried to be enthused, tried to seem light-hearted. It all sounded wooden to me. “Um … so, I was just wondering, well, I was hoping that we could hang out sometime soon … just me and you.” I looked up at him hopefully. Emily was definitely not invited.

  “Sure … yeah of course. Um ….” Riley thought it over. I frowned impatiently. When did this become so awkward? Hanging out with Riley used to be as natural as breathing, and now we had to watch ourselves, had to keep things from each other, had to think things through before saying them.

  “I’m just trying to figure … this week is crazy, when I’m not working I’ve got to get my studying done, what with the camping trip this weekend ….”

  “What camping trip?” I interrupted suddenly. A faint hope that he had planned our trip in secret, to surprise me, glimmered briefly.

  “Oh, yeah, we’re heading to Moose Lake this weekend, Emily and her family and I, kind of a pre-grad celebration thing.”

  “What?” My hope died, snuffed out with barely a fight. I couldn’t believe my ears. Anger and injustice began to mix with my panic and worry, roiling together just below the surface. “You’re going on our camping trip? With the Christian?” I said her nickname with as much disdain as I could muster.

  “What?” Riley chuckled, but the sound was dangerous. “What did you call her?”

  I didn’t answer. I just stared at him in disbelief, and I could feel my tears welling. My sight became blurry, my voice wobbly. My throat burned.

  “I can’t believe you.” I managed.

  “What’s the big deal?” He asked with concern, his own anger forgotten as soon as he saw me crying. It worked like a charm, every time.

  “I don’t know. I suppose you’ve probably forgotten, since you’re so busy with her all the time.”

  “Leave her out of it. Get to the point, I’ve gotta go.” Riley was getting impatient. He had to go be with her, is what he meant.

  “We were supposed to go on a camping trip, remember? Us! For pre-grad. We planned it for months. Remember?” My voice was thick.

  “Well, sure … I remember.” He softened. “But, I told you Mac, I can’t do those things anymore. You know I can’t. I’m sorry. I know it sucks.”

  I frowned, and crossed my arms around the volatile mixture of emotions within me. My entire chest seemed to burn.

  “Hey, Mac. Come on, don’t be upset. I know … maybe I could ask Emily if you could come with us this weekend. We could all hang out. What do you say?”

  I scoffed incredulously at him. It wasn’t so much his words, as ridiculous as they were. It was the fake enthusiasm I could hear in his voice. He didn’t want me to go with them anymore than I wanted to go. He didn’t want me with him. And that killed me.

  There were no words. The tears overwhelmed and spilt down my cheeks. I shook my head and turned from him, heading blindly down the badly lit hallway, no direction in mind but out. Part of me was conscious for him, waiting to hear him call my name, waiting to hear his footsteps falling behind me. He couldn’t just let me go, could he?

  And when he never came, when he never followed, I had my answer. And I knew then why I hated seeing Emily’s hand twined within Riley’s. Because she had replaced me, just as I feared and easier than I ever could’ve imagined, and seeing that physical bond had been like tapping the final, inevitable nail into our coffin.

  Riley and I were done.

  CHAPTER 9

  Our night was coming to a close. I caught a sight of my face in the decorative mirror, amazed that my eyes were still red, though the puffiness had gone down. I had gone through all the motions a waitress was expected too, but I had no enthusiasm, no patience at all for any of the people surrounding me. I just wanted to go get high, higher than I’d ever been, to have a break from the doldrums and find some numbing peace in the process. My thoughts weren’t allowed to even sneak by Riley’s name. It was all too close, and then I’d end up where I’d been for most of the day. Trying to hold back tears that would just inevitably break through.

  “How you holding up, hon?” Charlie asked me, back in the relative safety of our waitress area, and rubbed my shoulder comfortingly. I had indulged a few details to Charlie, only because she demanded to know and wouldn’t accept my allergies excuse. She knew both Riley and I, and could sympathise fairly well. Also, it felt good just to talk to someone, and she was surprisingly easy to talk to.

  “I’m okay.” I decided. Just minus one best friend. I took a deep, shaky breath.

  “Here.” She handed me the large plastic container for House dressing. “Go hide for a minute. I’ve got things under control out here.”

  “Thanks, Charlie.” I nodded, glad for an excuse to drop the fake smile from my face for a few minutes. I headed through the dish-pit to the large walk-in refrigerator. It smelt in there, like oil and cheese and eggs and sour milk and whatever else happened in refrigerators. There were shelves upon shelves of cold food and sauces and supplies. I took the large, heavy, black funnel from the wall and tried to remember how Sophie had shown me to refill the dressing, having never actually done it myself before.

  A large white bucket sat on the floor, the word “House” scrawled in faded black marker. Then I remembered. I sat the dressing container on the floor, taking the lid off so I could place the funnel in the top. Carefully I removed the wide lid from the heavy bucket, trying not to get covered in the thick white-green gloop in the process. By the time I had the bucket lifted and into position to pour, the funnel had tipped sideways out of the top of the dressing container and was lying on the floor upside down. Quickly I put the bucket down and retrieved the funnel, hoping I hadn’t broken any health codes in the process. I placed it back in the container, where it rested precariously against the edge, and grasped the bucket again.

  A curse escaped my lips when I noticed the black funnel, upside down on the floor again. Vaguely I remembered the poor woman from The Gods Must Be Crazy Two, trying desperately to get a rusty drink from that old rickety windmill while the monkeys kept making off with her can. Suddenly, I could sympathise with her.

  I looked around for a moment, deciding to prop the funnel/container up against the wall to keep it in place. It looked like it would work, but barely had I started pouring when the funnel tipped out again, this time falling to the floor and splattering dressing everywhere. I bit my lip and cursed again, closing my eyes in frustration. Now I had a mess to clean as well. The last thing I needed.

  “Damn monkeys.” I breathed nonsensically. It was then I heard him chuckling. I looked up quickly in surprise and found Grey, standing there at the entrance to the fridge, his arms folded on the nearby wire shelf, his head resting on his arms, his eyes wide with amusement. He had been watching me. I felt the alarming blush rush to my cheeks. His blue eyes were dancing with laugher, even more beautiful then when they were sullen.

  Normally very, painfully aware of him, I had been utterly distracted all night; even to the point where I almost forgot he was working. I smiled at him now though, pleasantly surprised, probably the first real smile of my whole day.

  “Would you like some help?” He offered.

  I shrugged, trying to play it cool
, but then admitted, “Yes, I would. Please.”

  “Here. Hold the funnel.” He sauntered over and picked up the pail as if it weighed nothing at all. I bent down and held the funnel upright for him. We worked in silence a moment, watching as the thick dressing poured neatly into the container.

  “So what’s with you tonight?” Grey asked when he was done, flipping the pail up expertly. “Cursing monkeys by yourself? You look like you’ve been crying all day.”

  “Oh … it’s nothing.” I stammered, and I could feel myself flush bright red. “Nothing to bore you with.”

  Grey shrugged, and then he smiled, sitting upon the white bucket and patting an overturned milk crate beside him. “Come on. Indulge me.”

  “Um …. Okay.” I felt like my smile might split my face in two. I sat down beside him and tried to stay cool. Why was Grey talking to me all of a sudden? It didn’t matter, as long as he was.

  “So ….” He was close enough for me to smell not only the scents of the kitchen, but also his own scent … a hint of men’s cologne, sweet and masculine. His blue eyes were even more intense up close, so clear and beautiful. Hypnotising almost. He smirked, and motioned for me to tell my story. What was I upset about again? I couldn’t seem to remember. Oh, wait … of course ….

  “Um … well, Riley and I had a fight … sort of.” That was barely scratching the surface of what we were going through, but I thought it’d do.

  “About?”

  “Well … he’s kind of, done with the party life, you know, and I’m not.”

  “I noticed that actually. He doesn’t even smoke anymore.”

  “I know! It’s frustrating. But I’ve tried to be understanding.”

  “Are Riley and you … together? You worry about him a lot.”

  “No we’re not together.” I shook my head. “We’re best friends … at least we used to be.” I wanted to stop there.

  “Go on.” He encouraged. It was hard to think straight with Grey so near. I kept my eyes busy, cataloguing all the items on the shelves of the refrigerator, and took a deep breath.

  “Well, he met this girl ….” I started, but I could tell my voice was about to break, and I stopped then. I looked up at the roof and prayed that I wouldn’t break down, not now, not with Grey here, actually talking to me. What a way to impress him. I cleared my throat and held it together. “Anyway, we’re over. It’s just … over.”

  The finality of my words hung in the air.

  “That sucks.” Grey decided. I nodded; amazed that we were having this conversation, amazed that he actually cared.

  “Yeah, it does.” I admitted.

  “Did you tell him to go screw himself?”

  “No.” I laughed loudly, his question surprising me. “No, I didn’t. Maybe I should’ve.” I looked at Grey and grinned.

  “It’s amazing what a simple ‘screw you’ can do to a man.” He chuckled. I laughed with him again, repentant.

  “I’m sorry about that, I just … I didn’t even think … it was just the first thing that came to me.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Grey smiled. “I enjoyed it. Really.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll remember that.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Mackenzie.” He stood up off his bucket and stretched out a hand to me. Hesitantly, I put my palm in his, praying that my hand didn’t feel sweaty or sticky or gross. He pulled me to my feet and suddenly I was very, very close to him. Closer that I’d ever been. I drew in my breath and forced myself to look at him. Forced myself to meet his gaze.

  “Come out with us tonight.” He grinned. His smile took my very breath away. “I promise, by the end of the night, you won’t even remember what you were sad about.”

  I couldn’t even think rationally. Grey was asking me to go out with them. Somehow I managed to keep a calm exterior, but the Mackenzie within me was doing a very childish and horribly embarrassing triple-arm-pump of exultation. I gave Grey a wide, dazzling smile.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled again. “Eleven o’clock. We’ll pick you up.” He edged slowly out of the refrigerator.

  “Great.” I nodded. Grey smiled at me again as he left, only to pop his head back into the fridge when I was cleaning up my mess a moment later.

  “And Mackenzie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get ready. We’re getting fucked up tonight.”

  I beamed up at him. “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER 10

  A quick glance at the clock told me it was almost ten. Hurriedly I wiped up the waitress station, aware now as Grey worked behind the counter near me, whistling as he stacked up the ramekins, the glassware clinking together. A surge of excitement spread through me, making my stomach churn convulsively. In an hour, I’d be out with Grey. One hour.

  “Hey, you almost done?” Charlie came in and surveyed my work. “Good. We don’t want to be late, and we still have to get you out of those clothes.”

  “Out of my …?” I looked down at myself, dressed in dark pants and a turquoise blue sweater, and puzzled. Charlie giggled.

  “For tonight, silly. You’re coming to my house. I’m going to doll you up before we go.”

  “Tonight? You’re coming with us?”

  “Of course. You think I’d let you go with those idiots by yourself?” Charlie shook her head, her blond curls flipping around her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go.” She stretched her hand out to me.

  I took her hand, hesitantly, and smiled, but felt disappointment leak into my chest. Had Grey asked Charlie to come? Why had he asked me then? Maybe Grey was into Charlie and just asked me along to make it seem like a group thing. I frowned, and felt stupid. There was no competition between Charlie and me. She’d win hands down.

  My excitement began to drain, my night heading quickly in a downward spiral. I followed Charlie through the restaurant into the warm, fragrant air of summer night, but I lacked my previous enthusiasm. Then she smiled at me.

  “Zack asked me to come along. You don’t mind, do you? I just couldn’t say no, I’ve been waiting so long ….”

  “No, of course I don’t mind.” I exclaimed suddenly, her words alleviating all my worries. My anticipation surged again, stronger than ever. Grey didn’t want her! I giggled excitedly as we climbed into her car. “I can’t wait. This is going to be great.”

  “I know!” Charlie laughed and lit a smoke. She threw her little sedan into reverse and then punched it when we were the right way around. We rolled the windows down and let the night air wash over us, racing through the empty, quiet streets. Slipknot blared through her speakers, the music lost somewhere behind us in the calm night air, the dull thumping bass of her stereo wafting down the streets.

  This was it. This was living. This was exactly where I wanted to be.

  We pulled up to Charlie’s condo just a little after ten. She lived in a quiet, dark part of town, where the buildings were older and needed paint in a bad way. The trailer park where Riley lived was not far from us, and I glanced sadly in that direction.

  “Come on, Mackenzie!” Charlie smiled and raced up a set of wood stairs, grey with age. They squeaked and groaned in protest. I turned from my sudden melancholy and followed her, taking the stairs more gingerly that she had, not trusting them with my weight. She fought with the saggy doorknob and flicked a light on once inside. I stepped into the entryway behind her and surveyed the little house.

  It was older, apparent in the gold plastic trimmings and light fixtures, the odd cream coloured light-switch plates, the threadbare carpeting and cracked linoleum. But she still managed to make it cozy and welcoming—the walls repainted a warm green, candles covering nearly every available surface, blankets and pillows adorning the older, second-hand furniture. I liked it immediately.

  Charlie swept in, throwing her bag on the kitchen counter, her coat on the chair in the living room, flicking on lights as she went. I followed into her small bedroom, sitting on her unmade bed as she rushed around, opening dresser drawers and rum
maging through her closet.

  “Do you live here by yourself?” I wondered, sitting cross-legged with the large, flat book she had just handed me, getting out my supplies so I could roll us a joint.

  “No, I have a roommate. Katrina. She’s got the bedroom at the end of the hall.” Charlie made a face, throwing some chosen clothing on the bed beside me.

  “You don’t seem pleased.” I noticed.

  She frowned. “Katrina’s kind of a pain in the ass. I’m thinking of kicking her out.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Charlie stepped over to the CD player and pressed play. The room was instantly flooded with 311, loud. She smiled and came to sit next to me.

  “Just roommate stuff. She’s messy and always late with the rent.”

  “I like your house.” I licked the joint and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” Charlie lit the joint, puffing away until the end was smoking. She sucked in and held her breath. “Here.”

  I took it from her and inhaled deeply. Even just the taste and smell of weed smoke was relaxing to me. I smiled and handed it back to her. She took another drag, held it, and then passed the joint back to me.

  “Okay, let’s get to work.” She piled some clothes on my lap, a pair of silvery studded blue jeans and a tiny, silver halter-top. I looked at them a moment incomprehensibly.

  “Put them on, silly.” She laughed and started taking off her pants. I grinned dumbly and nodded. We changed in her room—she into a long, tight, pink, sleeveless dress and I into the jeans and top. They actually fit fairly nicely. I took a glance in her full-length mirror, impressed. The silver top was a little low. It showed some good cleavage, hinting nicely at my breasts beneath, something I was unused to. The rest of the shirt flowed smoothly down my tight abdomen, barely meeting the jeans that rested snugly just off my hips.

  “Hot.” Charlie decided. I handed her the joint and she sat me down on the bed, pulling over a large make-up kit and starting on my face.