Life of the Party

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Life of the Party Page 46

by Christine Anderson


  They were still gaping at me as Riley’s fist slammed into his face.

  That shocked me out of my stupor. “Riley, no! What are you doing?” I lunged in between them, expecting the worst. But Grey didn’t fight back. Riley got up and shook his fist in pain, furiously staring down at my boyfriend levelled on the floor. I pushed him back as hard as I could, but I barely managed to move him an inch.

  “Get out of here Riley!” I shouted, furious. “Get out of here!”

  “You’re coming with me.” He decided, grasping my arm again. “Its okay, Mac. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “No!” I panicked again. I couldn’t leave Grey now. He had to see … he needed to see that I was really okay. “No!”

  The bouncers were quick to step in. They were always around, blending into the shadows, waiting for a fight caused by some cocky jerk getting rowdy. They grabbed Riley and hauled him away from me. The moment I was free I ran to Grey’s side. He was standing again, a welt across his cheekbone where Riley had punched him. But he wouldn’t look at me. He was like I had been earlier, a robot, on automatic pilot as he turned and pushed through the crowd.

  “Grey?” I ran to catch up with him. “What’s the matter?” It was a stupid question. I knew the answer. But I wanted him to speak to me, to acknowledge I was there.

  “Everything.” His voice was devoid of any emotion.

  A sob caught in my throat. “Am I really that hideous?”

  “No.” He stopped in his tracks, shaking his head. His eyes burned at me with sincerity. “You are beautiful.”

  “Then what—”

  “This is my fault. It’s all my fault.” He started walking again, and I had no choice but to follow him. I didn’t know where he was going until he headed up the stairs that lead to the back of the stage. The other guys were there, completely oblivious to our drama, prepping for their next set.

  Grey was like a sleepwalker. He sat down on a stool and started tuning his guitar, staring down at his pedal like he was deep in concentration. I was beside myself. I had never seen him like this before … it actually scared me. I couldn’t imagine what thoughts were going on in his mind that could keep him so … paralyzed.

  “Grey, talk to me!” I demanded. I couldn’t take it any longer. “Please, say something.”

  “She was right.” He looked at me. “She was right. I am a screw up. A total loser.”

  “Stop that.” I shook my head at him. “You are not a loser.”

  “No, I am. I am.” His voice was so … lifeless. “I did the same thing to her, you know. I just sat back and watched while she slowly wasted away.”

  “Grey, stop it.”

  “I didn’t do anything then. But I can do something now. I can do something.” He didn’t even seem to notice I was standing there. He was talking to himself and I wasn’t meant to be a part of this conversation. “I can make it right ….”

  “Grey, please?” Tears stung my eyes. My heart plummeted somewhere deep inside my chest, strangling the breath from my lungs. “Please?”

  But then he looked straight at me. “Mackenzie, we shouldn’t be together.” His blue eyes bored into mine, and only from knowing him could I tell how much this cost. The pain was evident in his eyes, the heartbreak apparent on his face. I shook my head wildly, refusing the words.

  “Grey, don’t do this. Don’t do this.”

  “I can’t. I can’t do this to you anymore.”

  “No. No, Grey.” The tears started flowing then, I was powerless to stop them. “We’ll … we’ll figure something out … we’ll get clean … I’ll go to rehab … something, anything …. Grey, we have to be together.”

  “I’m not strong enough.”

  “You are. You can be. We can be together.”

  “No. No Mackenzie.” His voice found some power again, some life. “Can’t you see? I’m killing you. I’m killing you!”

  “You’re not.” I grasped his hand, desperate, and raised it to my cheek. “Grey, look at me. I love you. I won’t let you leave me. You won’t. You can’t.” I sobbed. “You love me too. I know you do.”

  “Of course I do.” His eyes were wild with pain. His voice was like a whisper now, harsh and choking. “But I don’t have a choice.”

  “Grey—”

  “Grey, man.” It was Zack. He seemed hesitant to interrupt us, but everyone was already on stage. It was time for them to play. “Come on, we’re on.”

  Grey stood up, like he was on automatic pilot again, and picked up his guitar. He didn’t even glance back at me as he took the stage, the screams deafening as he stood before the mike. Hopelessly I collapsed on the floor, watching him. When he started to sing I committed the sound to memory, every melodic pitch, every word his smooth voice rumbled over. I listened to him through my tears and thought back, trying to figure out where we went wrong and how everything had fallen apart. After everything we’d done, everything we’d gone through, how we could put it back together again? Back to the way it used to be?

  The rest of the night dragged on, every second worse than the second before. I went back to the bar; I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like everyone was staring at me out of the corner of their eyes, I felt like everyone was talking about me behind my back. Every breath was a shudder as I attempted to hold back my sobs. All around me, people were revelling, happy, joyful, celebrating. I hated them all.

  Just before midnight, Serpentine played a wicked, hard rock version of Auld Lang Syne. The crowd went crazy for them. I was so proud of Grey up on the stage, in his tight jeans and his black t-shirt, with the studded leather bracelets on his wrists, the cherry red guitar held in his deft, capable hands. His dark messy hair, his gorgeous blue eyes, his cocky smirk. I loved Grey more than I could possibly love anybody. He was the only one for me, and suddenly, I was determined to make it work.

  I would do anything I’d have to. I’d give up heroin. I’d start today, start right now, if that’s what he needed. Anything.

  The lights dimmed when the band stopped playing, and the countdown began. The club erupted with the deafening noise.

  “Ten … nine … eight … seven … six … five … four ….”

  And then I was safe. Safe in Grey’s arms again. I don’t even know where he came from, but suddenly I was swept up into his warm, strong embrace, and he crushed me to him. I clung to him just as tightly, my hands in his hair, cupping his face. I smelt deeply his delicious cologne and pressed my lips against his neck.

  “You’re right, you know. There’s no one for me but you.” He whispered.

  “I know.” I giggled shakily. “I know. Grey, we can make this work.” I stared up into his eyes, trying to read them, trying to convince him.

  “I’m going to make this right.” He pressed his forehead to mine, speaking with vehemence.

  “I know. I know.”

  The clock struck twelve.

  “Happy New Year, Mackenzie.” He smirked.

  “Happy New Year, Grey.” I whispered back, through my happy tears. We smiled at each other, for just a moment, as the crowd started screaming and cheering and clapping for the stroke of midnight.

  And as Grey bent to kiss me, a smile still on his lips, it seemed like they were cheering for us.

  CHAPTER 58

  I couldn’t wait to go home. Grey and the guys had left the bar just shortly after midnight, and I knew exactly what they were going home to do. My craving for heroin pounded in my bones, reminding me—and I realized I couldn’t wait to be done with it all. I couldn’t wait to feel … healthy again. I knew it would hurt, I knew I’d be sick, I knew it would downright suck, but I wanted to get off the heroin. So Grey and I could be together, so it could be pure and real, just like it once was.

  The rest of my shift I tried to picture our new life together. It seemed right that it was New Years, a time for new beginnings, a time to leave behind the old and start afresh. As people screamed their drink orders at me and I worked in a frenzy to fill them
, all I could envision was Grey and I, our future together, sober and happy. We could do it, I knew we could. I felt hope again, it surged throughout me.

  When the party finally came to a close; when I finally made it home—shivering from the cold—I bounded into the house. I couldn’t help myself. I felt optimistic. Positive. More so than I had in a long time. Even though I could feel the start of the sickness pressing in, I gave Alex and Zack a happy smile as I burst into the living room. They both sat slumped over on the couch, nodding off in front of the TV.

  Not even the beading cold sweat could dampen my mood.

  “Hey guys, great show tonight!” I practically sang. It took a moment before either of them could respond.

  “Oh, thanks Mac.” Alex smiled drowsily. “It was … really … good ….”

  I giggled at him. “Is Grey in our room?”

  “Yeah ….”

  I nearly ran down the hall to our bedroom, my eyes adjusting to the dim light within. The bedside lamp was on and I could see Grey’s form lying on the bed. Our supplies were scattered in front of him. I grinned understandably. I couldn’t begrudge him one last hit, one last time before we started our new life, our clean life. Maybe I’d have one too—just one more to tide over the sickness until he awoke, and then we could do it together, could go through it together. And I meant it this time, they weren’t just words. We were going to get clean.

  I crawled into the bed behind him, gazing down at his handsome face, slack and peaceful, utterly gorgeous. I wrapped an arm around his chest and hugged him to me, kissing his neck and breathing deep. With my fingers I slowly trailed down the hard muscle of his arm, expecting him to shiver … but he just lay there, still. Wow, he must really be out of it. I grinned, my lips following the pattern my fingers had taken down his arm. He still had the needle clutched in his hand, and gently I pried it loose from his grip.

  “Grey.” I whispered, nudging him slightly. “Grey, will you do one for me?”

  He didn’t respond. I giggled softly in his ear, reaching my hand beneath his t-shirt and skimming it over the smooth, hard muscle of his abdomen. I pressed my palm against his chest, trying to coax a reaction from him. “Grey?”

  But he was still. He was too still … something was wrong. Frowning, I pressed my hand harder yet against his chest. But it didn’t move. It just stayed flat and hard, without rising or falling ….

  “Grey? Grey?” I rolled him over so he was flat on his back. His slack form was completely yielding, his head lolling on the pillow. His lips were blue.

  My heart stopped beating

  “No, no, no, no, no, no, no ….” I was frozen. Terrified by my discovery. Part of my brain tried to jolt me into action, tried to tell me to get up, to run, to go and get help. But I couldn’t, I was shaking too badly. And I didn’t want to leave him; I didn’t want to leave him alone.

  Part of me shut down. I was only barely aware as I got up off the bed, my footsteps staggering in utter horror. I had to use the wall for support. It was like I was outside myself, like a spectator at a play, watching some horrible drama ensue. I rooted for the girl I could see, I hoped for her. Yes, go get help, I told her. Go get Alex and Zack ….

  I wobbled, teetering down the hallway. My muscles wouldn’t move, like I was in a nightmare or something, paralysed with fear.

  “Zack!” I barked. “Alex!”

  There was no movement from the couches.

  Damn, stupid junkies. “Zack! Alex! Help me!” My voice was so shrill, so high pitched—like the fear had frozen my voice box and all it could make now was this strangled, harsh soprano.

  They must have heard the sheer panic of my scream. Both of them shook awake, staring up at me in confusion for a moment. Alex was the first to move.

  “What’s wrong, Mac?” He came to me in the hallway, helped me stand straight, his eyes hazy with concern.

  “Grey … it’s Grey ….” I panted. “Oh god … it’s Grey … please … please ….”

  He left me there. Zack brushed past me an instant later. I clutched the wall for support; my limbs were shaking so badly that my teeth nearly chattered. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t watch. I shut my eyes and listened as Zack and Alex ran into our room, hoping I had made some terrible mistake—that Grey would be up and sitting in bed, wondering what the hell all the noise was about.

  “Shit! Shit! Grey … Grey buddy … wake up man ….”

  I could hear someone slapping him. It was true then, it was real. A sob escaped my throat and I slid down the wall, my legs refusing to hold my weight up anymore.

  “Come on man … come on … come on buddy ….”

  Sirens. Paramedics. Red, flashing lights. A stretcher. A body on the stretcher. CPR. Shouting. White lights. Sterile. Emergency room. Beeping machines. IV.

  My mom.

  She came up out of nowhere. Of course she was working tonight. Wasn’t she always working? Isn’t that why I had always been alone?

  I had never felt more alone than I did at that instant.

  She scanned the limp body on the stretcher for a half a second, assessing the situation, and then sprang into action. I’d never seen my mom at work before, she was commanding—everyone hurried to follow her orders.

  “I need 10cc’s! Lori, start the Defibrillator ….” She pulled on a pair of white gloves and hurried to the front of the bed. At that moment, she saw me. Her blue eyes filled with anguish for just a second.

  “Get her out of here!” She shouted. Someone grabbed me, but I fought them. I couldn’t leave Grey. I’d been in a total trance until then, just blinking at the nurses and paramedics surrounding him as they worked frantically—pushing needles into his skin, shouting orders at each other. His handsome face was covered by an oxygen mask. He wasn’t breathing, he couldn’t breathe. I wanted to be near him until he did; I needed to feel the warmth of his hand, to know that he was going to be okay. He had to be okay ….

  “Mom! Please!” I shouted desperately. “Help him! Please, help him!”

  “Get her out of here!” She boomed. The grip on my arms tightened and then I was being hauled away, beyond the swinging doors, out into the waiting room.

  “No! No! Grey!” I was screaming, fighting them. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand how badly I needed to be beside him. It would help him, my closeness. It would give him a reason to open his eyes again.

  Someone held my writhing body. I couldn’t look at them; I looked past them, straining for a glimpse inside the ER. “Let me go!” I shouted. “Let me go!”

  And then, I was calmer. I didn’t want to be; I knew there was a reason for me to keep fighting. But then my head got cloudy and my muscles relaxed without my bidding. I hadn’t even felt the needle until I saw the orderly holding it in his hand. They’d given me something to calm down. Valium, probably. He set me on a chair then, and they left me all alone.

  It was too quiet in the waiting room. The change was tangible after the frantic chaos of the ER. I had no choice but to just sit there; I had no energy to move my limbs. I was thankful for the Valium, it wouldn’t let me think straight. It wouldn’t let me gnaw the ends of my fingertips off with worry. But it was also making me sleepy. I fought with my eyelids as they drooped heavily. I knew there was something I should stay awake for, but I was losing the battle. Despite my best efforts I dropped my head, slumped in the chair, and gave in to the relative comfort of sleep.

  My mom shook me awake. I stared up at her a moment, bleary eyed. How could it be time to get up for school already? It felt like I had just gone to sleep ….

  “Mackenzie?” Her eyes were full of sorrow, her face tense, like she was stressed about something. She was in her white Doctor’s coat. Didn’t she usually leave that at work?

  And then it all came rushing back to me, in a tidal wave of dread. All of it. Grey’s still chest. The ambulance. The nurses, the machines, the tubes. The beeping. His limp, motionless body. I sat up rigidly, already reaching for the doors to the emer
gency room.

  “Grey!”

  “Mackenzie.” Mom stopped me, her hand firm on my arm.

  “Can I see him? Can I see him mom?”

  Tears began to swim in her eyes.

  “Mom?” My whisper was choked, desperate. “Mom, can I see him?”

  “I don’t think so, honey.”

  I swallowed heavily. “… Why not?”

  “Because. Sweetie, Grey … Grey didn’t make it. He overdosed, Mackenzie. It was too late; there was too much heroin in his system ….”

  “No. What? No.” Slowly I shook my head. No. No. Liar. She was lying. Grey couldn’t be dead. I knew what this was; I knew what she was doing. They were trying to keep us apart. When I was drugged, she’d hatched up some plot. She’d give Grey something … money maybe, if he promised to stay away from me. And then she’d tell me he was dead. They never wanted us to be together. Ha. The joke was on her. No amount of money could keep Grey from me. He’d find me, he would.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” My mom was crying now, like it hurt her deeply to tell me the news. I hadn’t realized she was such a good actress before. Was this the part where I was supposed to believe her? I scoffed. I’d show her. I wasn’t going to fall for her little ploy.

  I ripped my arm from her grasp.

  “Mackenzie! Mackenzie! Where are you going? Come back!”

  But I was already gone, running down the hallway, searching for the exit. I’d go and find Grey before he got away. Then, together, we’d take the money and go live on an island somewhere, away from all of this. We’d sit on a porch swing at sunset and laugh about how we overcame all the odds, how we’d finally made it, despite everything.

  I burst through the front doors and into the staggering cold. Yes, we’d definitely have to find an island somewhere. I hated winter. Grenada, maybe—I’d heard great things about Grenada. I searched frantically for my car; I couldn’t really remember driving it, I couldn’t remember following the ambulance to the hospital. The red lights had been blinding, the sirens ear splitting.

 

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