Life of the Party (48 page)

To my surprise,
no one took the opportunity to launch into a lecture about what
happened at the wedding. Things were tense around the table, I
could feel it, and I was probably the only one completely relaxed
and at ease. But it didn’t bother me. I wasn’t really hungry but I
scoured the menu, ordering the closest thing I could find to a
cheeseburger, some fancy pasta with Bolognese and feta cheese.
After the waitress took our order, Marcy looked pointedly at
me.

“So, Mac, how
was the big birthday? Did you get totally wasted? End up in the
hospital, anything like that?”

“I had a good
time.” I answered, unperturbed.

“So what’d you
do?”

“Just … hung
out.” Actually Marce, I tried heroin for the first time. It was
awesome!

“Still with
that boyfriend of yours then?” Craig interjected, giving Greg a
glance that made him chuckle cockily.

“Yeah. He was
going to come tonight, but they’re still in the studio.”

“Too bad he
didn’t come.” Greg decided. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

“Oh yeah?” I
smiled. “Why? Because he punched your brother out for kissing me?
Or were you going to talk music or something?”

“Mackenzie.”
Dad warned, like the fourth thing he’d said to me all night. His
eyebrows were furrowed my direction.

“What Dad?” I
turned to him. “Did you not know that? This gentleman here,” I
pointed my thumb in Craig’s direction, “isn’t as gallant as you
think.”

“Still, Grey
didn’t have to punch him.” Marcy came to her brother-in-law’s
defence, crossing her arms. “Talk about overreacting.”

“And he didn’t
punch me out.” Craig insisted. “He just caught me by surprise. I
think the correct term is, ‘sucker-punch’? Isn’t that right
Greg?”

“Yeah, I think
that’s what they call it. Not how a real man fights, anyway.” Greg
smirked at me so arrogantly that if I hadn’t been so high, I
would’ve taken him by the crisply ironed shirt collar and slammed
him up against the wall. Or I would’ve wanted to, anyway. But as it
was, I just smiled at him and shrugged.

“Call it what
you want. Craig got what he deserved.”

Mom frowned. I
think she could see her little scheme of setting us up go flying
through the window, but honestly, I don’t know what she’d been
thinking even attempting such a stupid ploy. Like I’d magically
fall in love with Craig just because Grey wasn’t around or
something. How perfect it would be for them if I’d just behave and
follow their cleverly ordained little plan. Then they’d have both
daughters married off to super rich husbands, and just think of
what their friends would say.

Our meal
continued, fairly awkwardly, but I knew it would be. Conversations
ensued around me, but they had nothing to do with me … actually I
was basically ignored for the rest of the meal. There was a lot of
talk about Craig’s job that I barely paid attention to—my parents
subtly mentioned his various successes slyly for my benefit as I
tried to keep from rolling my eyes at them. I could feel the heroin
wane, the bliss fading slowly from my veins, and hoped our evening
would be coming to a close soon. I really didn’t want to be around
my family when it totally wore off.

Finally—thankfully—it was over. Dad paid the bill and we all went
our separate ways; Marcy and Greg took Craig home and I was forced
to pile in the car with mom and dad. I realized climbing into the
backseat that not one person besides my parents had even said happy
birthday to me. There’d been no singing, no presents … not even a
cake. Whatever, it would all be over soon. I just had to make it
home.

I sat back to
try and enjoy the ride. I’d always liked driving in the city at
night, looking out over the twinkling lights beneath the huge dark
sky, the streetlights flooding the cab with a pale, warm glow; the
gentle braking and accelerating of the car. It felt cozy to me,
quiet.

“So, Mackenzie,
was that really necessary?” Mom posed, turning in her seat to look
at me, though it was pretty much pitch black inside the car.

So much for my
quiet. “What mom?”

“Why’d you have
to bring it up? Why’d you have to act that way to Craig?”

“Um … because
he’s a total dick. And for some reason, no one cares that he kissed
me. Grey had every right to punch him, but for some reason,
he’s
the bad guy. It’s so stupid.”

“Mackenzie.”
Mom sighed. “Really. Look, I know you like this … Grey fellow, and
he’s a … he’s a nice boy, but can you really see yourself settling
down with someone like him?”

“Mom, who the
hell is talking about settling down? I just turned eighteen.”

“I know, but,
why waste your time? Craig is mature, and responsible, he’s a—”

“Okay, stop
right there.” My patience was thinning as the heroin ebbed. “Get it
out of your mind that I’ll ever be with Craig Donovan, okay? Forget
it. And I’m not wasting my time with Grey. He’s amazing, for your
information, though you don’t know that because you won’t even give
him the time of day, for some stupid reason.”

“I just think
you could do better.”

“Well, I don’t.
And luckily for me, I’m the one that gets to live my life, not you.
So just butt out, alright?”

There was a
moment’s silence. “Alright.” Mom finally answered, her words
clipped, her voice terse. Dad sat silently in his seat, his eyes on
the road.

We rode the
rest of the way in silence.

There was
nothing on TV. I sighed and flipped absently through the channels,
bored and lonely. I leaned quickly over the coffee table and did
another line, then sat back on the couch and let the cocaine race
through my veins. A shaky smile bent my lips as I lit a
cigarette.

It was
Thursday. Somehow, I’d managed to get through the week without
doing any more heroin. Not because Grey had mentioned how addictive
it was, not because we were supposed to save it for special
occasions, but simply because I had absolutely no means of getting
any. As badly as I wanted it, I had no hope of finding some in a
town as small as ours. Sometimes I would just sit and think fondly
back to my blur of a weekend, trying to remember how good heroin
felt, trying to relive the delicious, warm nothingness. I did
copious amounts of cocaine to try and fill the void, but nothing
could satisfy, nothing could compare with what I really wanted.

Grey was coming
home that Friday. I was so excited; I couldn’t wait to have him
here with me again, for good this time. Just one more day and I
wouldn’t be alone anymore, not like I had been all that week. I had
no idea where Charlie was or what she’d been doing—she didn’t come
home and she didn’t show up to work and she didn’t answer her cell.
I was to the point that I wasn’t even mad at her anymore, at all—I
just wanted to know that she was okay, that she was safe and alive.
I had played with the idea of calling the police, but in the end
decided against it. If Charlie were just off binging somewhere it
would do more harm than good for the police to find her. She’d
probably never speak to me again if I got her in any sort of
trouble.

My worries were
put to rest though, when after an old rerun of
The
Simpson’s
, I heard sudden footsteps hurrying up our stairs. My
heart leapt with relief as the door swung open and Charlie swept
in, her blonde hair curled and her make-up on, dressed up like she
was about to go clubbing.

“Oh, hey.” She
smiled at me—but it was more like a sneer—and threw something my
direction. I knew what it was without having to look. “You left
this in my car.” She snickered, breezing by me on the way to her
bedroom.

I blinked a
moment in amazement, and then sat up to retrieve my license card
from where it had landed on the floor. I looked down at it—at the
little photo of the young girl I’d been then, smiling widely as the
picture snapped, just given the key to new freedom. I remembered
that day, how exciting it had been to finally be allowed to drive,
how Riley and I had celebrated by getting stoned and then cruising
around town. I’d hit a parked car pulling out of my parking spot,
and Riley had screamed “Go, go, go!” and I’d peeled out, terrified,
laughing uproariously with my friend as we stole away from the
scene of the crime.

No, no, no. I
shook the thought of Riley firmly out of my head, knowing if I
didn’t that I’d never be able to keep the sadness at bay.
Forgetting him proved harder than I expected this time. I’d tried
all week—with copious amounts of cocaine—to shelve him back to the
farthest corners of my mind. But he seemed impossible to ignore. My
thoughts skittered to him constantly; memories of him long
forgotten would suddenly pop into my head. His face even invaded my
dreams at night. I was holding onto my sanity by a tenuous thread
and counting down the days to Grey’s arrival, knowing full well
that only his gloriously handsome face would help distract me
entirely.

Charlie waltzed
back into the kitchen then, interrupting my musings, and opened the
fridge. “I’m not staying, Courtney’s in the car. I just had to grab
some things.” She explained. I looked up at her, puzzled. Who the
hell was Courtney? I frowned to myself. A new best friend? How
easily everyone replaced me.

“How was your
weekend, anyway?” Charlie wondered. “It must have sucked not being
able to go out.” Her voice was insincere, gloating almost.

I stared at her
evenly. “Zack is cheating on you.” I blurted. It wasn’t the most
tactful way to tell her, I could admit, but I figured she was still
getting off easy.

That was enough
to wipe the smirk from her face. She froze in her steps, her head
whipping up to glare at me. “What did you say?”

“Zack’s
cheating on you.”

Charlie swayed.
She grasped the edge of the counter for support and teetered a
moment as the full weight of my words crashed down on her. She let
out a little gasp, almost like a sob, and then sat weakly down in a
little faded armchair.

“Really?” Gone
was the sardonic grimace that had distorted Charlie’s beautiful
face to me for so long. It was like something had broken in her,
like the walls of resentment she felt towards me had come crumbling
down with an explosion of humility. She gazed up at me now, her
blue eyes wide and sad—repentant. “Are you sure, Mac?”

I sighed.
“Yeah.” Already I could feel the air clearing between us. I forgave
her easily, for everything, feeling nothing but compassion for her
now. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”

“I mean, I’d
always feared … the worst, but I never actually thought ….” She
shook her head and dropped her face into her hands. “I never really
thought he’d do it.”

Wordlessly, I
crossed the living room and joined her on the chair, wrapping my
arm around my friend and drawing her near. She wasn’t actually
crying, but her petite frame was shaking with pent-up emotion.

“Hey, you can
do better.” I encouraged. “You can do so much better than that
asshole, Charlie. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Yeah.” She
sniffed doubtfully.

“No, I mean it.
You are way too beautiful to waste tears on a loser like him.”

Charlie smiled
weakly, her blue eyes full of emotion as she cast them up at me.
“Why are you being so nice to me, Mac? I’ve been terrible to
you.”

“Because you’re
my friend.” I shrugged. “And I love you.”

Charlie scoffed
and sniffled loudly. She looked down at her hands, twisting in her
lap. “So this is what it feels like to have your heart broken.”

“I’m sorry.” I
repeated. I didn’t know what else to say. She leaned her head
against my shoulder and we sat silently for a moment. Despite
Charlie’s sorrow, I couldn’t help but be happy that we were friends
again. Now I wanted nothing more than to help relieve her pain, to
help her forget everything, to help her forget all about Zack
….

A wicked,
horribly tempting idea crossed my mind then. I sat up, excitement
coursing through my veins at just the thought, and glanced down at
Charlie, beaming impishly.

“Charlie, I
have the perfect thing, something I know will cheer you up.”

“Oh yeah?” She
replied doubtfully. “What’s that?”

“Heroin.”

“Heroin?” That
sparked some interest in her dull blue eyes. “What? Where’d that
come from?”

“I did some on
the weekend.” I remembered fondly. “Trust me, nothing on earth will
ever make you feel better. It feels so friggin’ good. I can’t even
describe it.”

That intrigued
her, I could tell. “Really? But … where would we get some?”

“I don’t know.
I was hoping you might know somebody.”

“I don’t.” She
frowned a moment, but then her eyes lit up with an idea. “But I bet
Courtney would. Come on, let’s go ask her.”

“Okay.” I
smiled eagerly.

It felt like
old times again as Charlie and I—swept away with anticipation and
the age old desire to get as wrecked as we possibly could—hurriedly
readied ourselves and then trounced out down the old wooden steps,
giggling as we headed for Courtney’s idling car.

Courtney was
really pretty. Not Charlie pretty, but pretty in her own punky,
perky way. She had dark short hair, straightened, with bold chunks
of blonde and red throughout. Her wide almond eyes were lined
heavily with black liner, her lips smiled with blood-red lipstick.
She was a waitress at the Aurora; I knew I recognized her from
somewhere. She had this experienced, bored aura about her, like she
had seen everything and been everywhere and tried everything at
least once. Just from looking at her I could tell she was bad. It
made her mysterious to me, I couldn’t help but wonder what wild,
crazy things she’d been apart of before.