My parents were there. They hugged me the moment we pulled up at the church. I was ready to blame them, to call them out for their actions, to see if they were happy now that Grey was dead. But then they hugged me and I didn’t know what to do. I let them wrap their arms around me, let myself feel their warmth, let myself hear how sorry they were, how much they professed to love me. My resolve crumbled. I let them lead us through the foyer and into a back room where we could hide until the service began.
The church reminded me of Marcy’s wedding. Candles glowed softly and flowers were everywhere, but this time they weren’t white. They were black. Black calla lilies on graceful green stems, placed artfully in cut glass vases. They were perfect. Grey would’ve loved them.
I whispered lowly in Charlie’s ear. “… Who? Who did all this?” I wondered. Grey didn’t have any family. I was his family. And I doubted that Tom and the band ….
“Your parents did it.” She answered back. “They’ve done everything … they’ve been so great, Mackenzie. They paid for it all.”
“What?” For a moment, I was shocked with disbelief. “But they hate Grey.”
“No.” Charlie shook her head. “They don’t.”
I bit my lip. Tears warmed my eyes. Marcy got a wedding, I got a funeral.
It was fitting, almost.
When the service finally started, Charlie gripped me tightly by the hand and helped me walk down the long aisle, past the countless pairs of sympathetic eyes to a pew at the front of the church. I was amazed by the amount of people present to honour Grey’s memory, people I’d never seen before, people I’d never met. I should have expected it though. Grey had that affect on people—he touched them, he warmed his way into their hearts without them even knowing. He was popular, he was loved.
He was gone.
Alex, Zack, Tom, and the rest of the band filed into the pew beside us. We were considered Grey’s family. The Minister started speaking, but I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the large, gleaming oak casket that dominated the stage of the church, holding the body of the man that I loved. He was in there, he was inside. I raised a shaky hand to my mouth in an attempt to quiet the sudden sob that burst through my lips. He was so near to me, but he was so far away, forever removed. A large picture sat next to the coffin upon an easel; Grey’s happy, smiling face in life—his blue eyes shining, his smirk dimpling his stubbled cheek. I stared at his picture as the tears flooded my eyes, as they fell cascading down my cheeks. No amount of heroin could have prevented this hurt.
I felt it in the deepest pit of my soul, felt the terrible yearning for someone forever lost to me, the desperate longing for something I would never know again.
What I would give to have you hold my hand. What I would pay to feel your breath on my face. I love you Grey, I love you with all my heart.
Why did you have to die?
We drove out to the cemetery. I couldn’t find my parents, but I just knew they were there. I could feel them there. And Riley. Somewhere, deep inside me, I knew Riley was there as well. He was keeping his distance, which I could understand. But he wouldn’t have left me to do this alone. I suppose the thought should have comforted me. But at the moment, I was beyond comforting.
Before Grey’s coffin was lowered into the ground, I set a rose upon the shining lid. I pressed my hand against the silky lacquered wood and held it there a moment—the tears pouring freely—and in that instant my mind was made up.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it without him. It was too hard. Even with the drugs, it was unbearable. There was no point living. Not without him.
I didn’t say goodbye to Grey then. More like … see you soon.
I cried the hardest as we pulled away from the cemetery. It didn’t feel right to just leave him there, alone. Wouldn’t he get cold? What if he was afraid?
It was a long drive to my parents’ house. They were hosting a luncheon, which touched me, deeply—but was something I wanted no part of. The house was packed, but I didn’t want to socialize, I didn’t want to accept condolences. I stole one of my father’s super thick, heavy winter coats and escaped outside, leaning against the house and chain smoking. I could feel the nausea hitting, my stomach churning, the craving pulsing within me. This was the longest I’d gone without heroin in weeks. I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.
Nor did I want to. I was exhausted, weary, ready for everything to be over. I clutched my purse against my chest and threw my cigarette butt into the snow. Everything felt strangely clear—sharpened, almost—as I walked back into the house and hung my dad’s coat back up in the closet. My steps had purpose for the first time in what felt like eternity. I’d been so lost for so long. It felt good to have direction again.
I slipped through the crowd of mourners in their dark dresses and suits, up the stairs and into the bathroom. I set my supplies out on the counter, slowly and methodically. I wouldn’t allow myself to think of my family, my parents, my sister, Greg—the sixty-year-old man stuck in the twenty-something body—my friends. I wouldn’t let myself picture Charlie or Alex or Zack, or Toby and Ben. Or Riley. I refused to think of Riley. They’d all just have to understand. It was way too hard.
It was kind of poetic, in a way, going out the same way Grey had. At least it would be peaceful. And quick. I put as much heroin on the spoon as it would hold, diluting it just enough to make it liquid. The mix was dark—darker than normal—much, much stronger than normal. I heated it all, sucking up the lethal combination until the syringe was nearly full.
I kept Grey’s face before my eyes. My hand shook as I gripped the needle. I didn’t want to lose courage, not now, not when I was so close. I’m coming, Grey. I promised. Soon, we’ll be together forever. Nothing will keep us apart.
A smile bent my lips as I pressed the needle against my skin. It was like I could already feel the sweet relief of death, like I could taste its promise. The needle slid in easily, found my vein effortlessly, sucked my blood fluidly up into the chamber. I sat down on the toilet seat, ready; gripping the needle, shutting my eyes in sweet anticipation.
I love you Grey ….
I pressed the plunger down, slowly, prolonging the moment. I smiled as the drugs took hold of my system. And then they just kept coming, rushing through my blood stream, taking my breath away with the sheer force of them—my heart pounding harder and harder as they slammed through my swollen veins. Taking over me. Surrounding me. Drowning me. I didn’t fight them; I let them have their way, giving up, giving in to the sweet surrender of blackness that loomed on the very edge of my being.
I fell over, slowly—it seemed to take forever. Everything was in slow motion. Was this how it felt, Grey? I wondered. Did you feel this way when you died?
I fell, slumped over between the toilet and the wall, and knew no more.
CHAPTER 61
There was a banging noise. Like a fist on a door. Muffled voices were coming from somewhere far, far away. I was removed from the noises; apart from the chaos unfolding. It was peaceful where I was. Tranquil. Heavenly.
“How long has she been in there?” Riley’s voice, frantic with worry.
“I don’t know. I didn’t even see her come up here!” Charlie wailed.
Ah. I understood what was happening now. They were outside the bathroom door, trying to get in. They were about to find my body, cold and dead on the floor. It’s too late, I wanted to tell them. You’re too late. I’m dead.
“Mackenzie! Answer me!” Riley tried the knob again. “Please?”
I can’t. I’m dead.
“Get out of the way, Charlie. Move!”
“What are you—?”
Bang! The noise jerked me in surprise. Bang! It sounded like Riley was hurtling himself at the door, throwing his weight against it, kicking it with as much strength as he could muster.
There was a sudden splintering sound, like breaking wood and wrecking metal. I listened faintly, curious as they burst through the broken d
oor. What were they going to do now? What were they going to do when they discovered they were too late?
“Mackenzie!” Charlie screamed in horror. The shrillness startled me. Warm, strong hands were suddenly on my arms, on my shoulders, turning me over, propping me up ….
You’re too late ….
“Mackenzie.” Riley’s voice was close now, in my ears, gasping, pleading with me. “Please. Open your eyes. Please be okay.” He shook me; he slapped me, lightly. “Mackenzie!”
I turned my face from the sting of his slap. It was more annoying than anything.
“Is she okay? Is she breathing?”
“Yeah, she’s breathing.” Riley’s voice oozed relief. “She just needs to wake up.”
His touch was lighter now.
“Mackenzie, Mackenzie, can you hear me?”
No … oh, wait. Yes, I can hear you. Why can I hear you?
I frowned. No, this wasn’t right. Something had gone wrong. Why could I hear him? Why could I feel him? Slowly, I tried to open my eyes.
“Is she waking up?”
“I think so. Mackenzie?” Riley’s face was close, so close to mine. I blinked up at him, confused by the warm, chocolate eyes that gazed down at me. They were filled with tears, with agony. Why could I see him? And why the hell was he crying? I was the one who was supposed to be dead.
He picked me up in his arms, gingerly; as if I were fragile, easily breakable. I let him; I had no energy to fight him at all. It was warmer in his arms than it had been on the floor. We left the bathroom and started down the hall, rushing, Charlie close behind us.
I tried to pay attention to the chaos that ensued once we reached the main floor and my parents learned about my state—the frantic, dramatic worry of their voices mingling together, a cacophony of concern surrounding me. But I was still too overcome by the sweet waves of bliss to care, too out of it to really hear them. The heroin that burned through my swollen veins was intense, it was good—I hadn’t been that high in ages. Warm and comfortable and safe in Riley’s arms, I gave into the numbing heat, nodding in drowsy pleasure. I shut my eyes and leaned against his hard chest and succumbed, more content, more peaceful than I had been for days.
Wearily, I opened my eyes. Just a bit at first, and I didn’t understand a thing. Stupidly I blinked into the dark, trying to place myself, trying to remember. The last thing I could really recall were Riley’s dark brown eyes hovering over me, filled with tears. I turned my head, relived to see he was still with me—his face a dim silhouette against the dashboard lights, his eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the road before him. We were in a car. My car, I realized. I sat up a bit, my neck aching in protest from the odd position I’d been resting in. It made me groan.
Riley looked over at me sharply. I glanced back at him, achy and uncomfortable.
“You’re awake.” He observed.
“So it would seem.” I admitted reluctantly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Terrible.”
“You had me worried there for a minute.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to be awake; I didn’t want to be aware. I leaned back against the seat, staring out the window at the dark beyond while Riley navigated us over the icy roads. It was quiet, and warm. I’d always liked driving at night; it had always been so calm, so peaceful. Lulling. But now, it was too quiet. The precious drugs were leaving me. Even now I could feel them slipping away, could feel the warmth evaporate, the peace fading. I sat up and switched on the radio, eager for some background noise, for something else to focus on besides the utter gloom and depression of the thoughts now penetrating my flimsy veil of protection.
The DJ from the local station was prattling on in his low, monotonous tenor. I crossed my arms and leaned back against the seat, listening. Riley stared at the road ahead; he didn’t seem to know what else to say, but I wasn’t really up for talking at the moment anyway. I shut my eyes and hoped for sleep.
“And this one goes out to all those Serpentine fans grieving the loss of lead singer Grey Lewis, who passed away New Years Day.” The DJ was saying. “Funeral services were held today for the guitar wielding local hero, and their debut CD, Seize the Day, has been selling out of stores ever since the late singers tragic death. Here’s the latest single from the album. Enjoy. This one’s for you, Grey.”
I stared straight ahead, shocked. Every muscle in my body tensed as the all too familiar intro began—the beautiful streaming guitar and the melodic piano blending together into the world’s most perfect song. Tears warmed my eyes. I realized that I was holding my breath, waiting in agonizing anticipation for the bittersweet moment when I would hear his voice again, when it would come to me from beyond the grave.
I shut my eyes, like a masochist, and focused on nothing but his raspy, velvet sound. A sound I loved with all my heart. A sound I lived to hear.
Mackenzie, I hope you miss me
When I’m gone, when I’m gone.
I gotta go now, but you need to know how
Much you’re loved, how much you’re loved ….
Mackenzie ….”
His voice—Grey’s beautiful, unmistakable voice—ripped through my mind and tore through my soul, leaving a wake of burning fire smouldering in my wounds. The pain was all the more potent for the meaning behind his words, words I couldn’t fathom. Grey loved me. I was precious to him; the song was about me. He loved me. So why did he leave me? Why? The sound of his voice was the only thing in the entire world that I wished to hear. But I wanted it from him. I wanted his lips to move, I wanted his mouth to speak. And he never would again.
“Stop the car, Riley.” I ordered. My breath was coming in gasps.
“What?”
“Stop the car!” I shouted. “Stop the fucking car!”
The brakes locked, the wheels skidded across the icy highway. By the time we slowed to a stop, I was already out of the car.
Damn, it was freezing. The icy wind whipped around my legs, my hair, taking my breath away. Traffic whizzed by. I ran to the side of the road. I didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew I had to get out of there. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t bear it. It was too much to take. I ran frenzied hands up into my hair, trying to yank it out by the roots, trying to distract myself from the uncontrollable pain tearing my heart in two. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair! How could you, Grey! How could you leave me? Why?
I was so mad. I was so furious. I screamed into the wind—shrill, crazy. I took off my shoes and threw them as far as I could, oblivious to the crusty frozen snow stabbing into my bare feet.
“No! I won’t miss you!” I shouted. “I won’t! I hate you! I hate you!” Liar. Liar. You love him.
I sunk to my knees, defeated, sobbing as the pain gripped my heart, its clutch as icy as the freezing wind. “I love you, Grey. I love you so much. Why did you leave me?”
“Mackenzie,” Riley grasped me by the elbow. I hadn’t even noticed him approaching. “Come on. Let’s get back in the car.”
I tried to shrug him off. “Just leave me here, Riley.” I sobbed. Just leave me here to die. Please.
“Come on.” He pulled me up, out of the snow. “It’s freezing.”
“I don’t care.”
He sighed a moment and then, like I was two, bent and scooped me out of the snow. With his warm arms around me, I cried against his shoulder, and he carried me back to the car.
How could anybody live through such agony? How could I be expected to go on, to lead a normal, happy life? I would never recover from this, there was no way—the pain was too great. Too constant. There was only one way for me to escape, one way for me to forget everything. I needed a hit. I needed one soon. I needed one badly.
“Riley.” I sniffled as he buckled me into the seat. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask before; I hadn’t really cared. But now I needed to know how much time stood between me and my next hit. “Where are we going?”
“Are your feet okay?” He ignored my question, bendi
ng to inspect my toes.
“Fuck my feet, Riley.” I snapped. “Where are we going?”
He smiled at me. “Watch your hand.” He ordered, slamming my door shut. I wiped furiously at the tears on my cheeks as he walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. It was freezing out, and he took a minute to warm his hands before the vents. I glared at him.
“Riley, answer me. Where are we going?” I demanded.
He ignored me again. He didn’t even look at me, slowly pulling back onto the road and accelerating over the icy pavement. He waited until we reached highway speed, until we were going too fast for me to jump out of the moving car. Then, Riley turned to me.
“I’m taking you to rehab.”
“You’re … what?” I glared at him incredulously.
“You need help, Mac. I’m going to get you help.”
“But I ….” I froze with horror, realizing fully what he meant. I couldn’t go to rehab. Not without Grey. I needed heroin, now more than ever. I wouldn’t survive without it. What would I do when the pain got too bad? The very thought made my blood run cold with fear.
“I can’t go to rehab.” I shook my head resolutely. “Riley, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can Mackenzie. You have to.”
“No, I don’t. I’ll … I’ll do it on my own, Riley. I’ll cut back; I’ll get clean on my own ….”
“No.”
“You could help me, Ry, we can go somewhere, we can be alone and you can help me and I’ll quit, I really will ….”
“No.”
“Please? Please Riley, I need a hit, you don’t know what it’s like.” Desperate, my eyes filled with tears again. I looked over at him, pleading. “Please, Ry. Please? It hurts so badly, I can’t go through it. Not alone, not now. It’s too soon. Please?”
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