Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  And in an instant, I knew I had the answer. I had to let Riley go.

  It was the only thing left, the only thing that made sense. Until I knew for certain how I felt, until I knew if I could love him like he deserved, I had to let him go. But the prospect was daunting. I bit my lip, blinking back tears, my throat aching with every beat of my quaking heart. I knew it was the right thing to do. Something I had to do.

  And the one thing I’d never been able to, no matter how hard I tried.

  Last summer when Riley left me, the pain had been devastating. And this time, there’d be no Grey to cushion the blow of his absence. There’d be no drugs for me to use to hide from the hurt, to help push the tormenting thoughts and memories of Riley away. I’d have to live with it; I’d have to deal with it. Healthily, this time.

  But I could do it for him. Couldn’t I? Didn’t I owe him that much? I may not have Grey to soothe me and I wouldn’t have the drugs to ease the hurt … but I had God now. And I knew that borrowing his strength—somehow, someway—I would get through it. I knew that he would help me. And I knew that my friend, my best friend in the whole world, deserved whatever happiness I could afford him. After everything he’d done for me, I knew that Riley was worth it.

  I loved him enough to let him go. I had to.

  I kept this statement running through my head the next afternoon, as I forced myself—with heavy heart and dragging feet—down the hallway to the meeting room. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was nervous, anticipating inevitable awkwardness between us, afraid of what I was going to do. It felt so unnatural to be selfless, like a vegetarian suddenly having to down a t-bone. Against the grain. Wrong.

  But somewhere deep, deep down, I knew it was right, too.

  Riley gave me a hesitant smile as I came through the door. I studied his face a moment, grown so handsome over our time apart, so much older and mature—and felt the first icy stab of loneliness pierce into my soul. I tried to keep my expression blank and tried to calm my heart—overwrought with expectation of the pain—from hammering its way out of my ribs. With a shaky breath I sat down across from him, steeling my resolve, hardening my will.

  “So.” Riley cleared his throat a moment, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He looked just as nervous as I was, but his dark eyes were still warm, gazing at me fondly.

  “So.” I repeated quietly. I had no idea how to start.

  He smiled at me tentatively. “Mac, I owe you an apology.”

  I blinked. “You do?”

  “Yeah.” Riley cleared his throat.

  “For what?”

  “For yesterday. For our conversation.” He let out a heavy breath. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret telling you. I’m glad it’s out there now. But I do regret … asking you … how you feel ….”

  “Riley—”

  “No.” He held up a hand, stopping me. “Please, don’t say a word. Really. The whole drive home yesterday and all last night I just … thought about it. And I realized how … how cruel it was of me to ask you that question. So insensitive.”

  “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, slu
mping 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.

  “Yeah, it does. Better than snow, anyway.” Riley looked up at the sky as well, playing along with me. I stared at him a moment, suddenly overtaken by just how badly I was going to miss him.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go.” I blurted foolishly.

  His dark eyes were serious on my face. “I don’t have to, you know.”

  “No. You do. You do.” Furiously, I blinked back my tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said ….” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  Riley looked down at the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. “Don’t cry Mac, please?”

  “I’m sorry.” I sniffed. “I just … I wouldn’t have made it without you … you know?”

  “Yeah … well, you stay sober, and we’re even.” He smiled then, trying to lighten the mood. “Deal?”

  I nodded, biting my lip to try and hold back the tears. This was still fairly new to me, having to deal with the pain. Before, whenever I hurt—for whatever reason—I would go and get high and therefore solve all my problems. But now, I felt the full scorch of the pain burning my lungs, throbbing in my chest. There was nothing I could do but feel it. It hurt. It was deep, aching. Hollow.