Life of the Party (71 page)

I was still
working on that one.

But I was truly
becoming transformed. And all because of God. Riley was right
again. Now that I knew him, I couldn’t fathom having ever lived
without him. I still had my bad days; I still had days when I
missed Grey so badly it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Sometimes—like a masochist—I’d lie on my bed and just think about
him, dredging up all our memories together, remembering the velvet
perfection of his voice and the handsomeness of his face until my
pillow was soaked with tears. But Jesus was there through it
all—helping me along—there for me in every possible way. Lending me
his strength so that I never gave up hope. I wanted to get through
it all and I wanted to do it right. I wanted to feel the pain, to
change as Riley had. I wanted to do it all for him, I wanted to
truly live for him. When things got too much, when my craving for
heroin was gnawing away at my insides, I’d stop and pray and beg
and plead for God to help me. And somehow, it got easier. The
craving would pass without agony, without much torment and torture
until suddenly, I’d realize it was gone.

And I slept. At
night I slept like a baby, and awoke nearly every morning feeling
totally rested. I read my Bible whenever I got a spare minute and
wrote in my journal the new revelations I was discovering, each and
every day. Riley was a constant help, guiding me, trying to answer
my constant flood of questions, eagerly and happily trying to teach
me about this amazing God that I had only just discovered. The time
seemed to fly by, each and every day faster than the one before it,
easier from my newfound strength. With it I felt like I could take
on the world.

Other times I
was terrified of that very thing.

Allison was
leaving me. Her three months were up, and I sat on my bed,
worriedly watching her pack. She was whistling, her blue eyes
gleaming excitedly as she quickly folded her clothes into the
suitcase.

I was concerned
for her. I knew exactly what she was going to do the moment she set
foot out the doors, and I knew where that decision would lead her.
I could almost see her future spiralling away. How long would it
take before she was circling the drain again? Before she ended up
hurt or sick or … worse? What if she ended up dead?

I knew there
was nothing I could do to make her change her mind.

But I had to
try.

“You don’t have
to do it, you know.” I blurted suddenly. She paused for a moment
and stopped whistling, looking up to frown at me.

“I don’t have
to do what?”

“It.” I sat up
and stamped my cigarette out in the ashtray. “Heroin. You don’t
have to use again, Allison. You can start your life again, fresh.
Sober.”

“Yeah, I guess
I could.” She chuckled. “Except I don’t want to.”

“You’ve gone
ninety days without. Allison, that’s huge. You should be proud of
yourself.”

She rolled her
eyes at me.

“What about
your friends and your family … what about them?”

“What about
them?” Allison asked icily, her blue eyes narrowing at me. “They
threw me in here so they wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.
That’s fine. I don’t need them. I’ll be just fine on my own.”

“I think they
put you in here because they love you.”

“You don’t know
the first thing about it.” She threw the last of her shirts into
the suitcase and angrily zipped up the bag.

I shrugged. “It
just … it seems to me like you’re looking for excuses to start
again, and you don’t have to do it. I know you’ve been planning on
… it … but you can change—”

“Shut up,
Mackenzie, okay?” Allison shook her head at me. “Just shut up. Man,
I liked you a lot better when you didn’t give a damn. Just, don’t
get all high and mighty on me. I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you
can do to stop me.”

“I know that,
trust me. No one can stop you. No one but yourself. But Allison,
you can do it. I know you can.”

“Fuck off.” She
wavered.

But I was
unwavering. “I know it’s too late for the motivational speech. All
I can do now is ask.” I put my hand on her shoulder, my dark eyes
pleading with her. “Please don’t use, Allison. Please, will you
just try? I do care about you, and I want you to get better. I want
you to stay better.”

Her blue eyes
met mine for a moment, softened by my words. But then I saw the
exact moment when they hardened again, when her resolve was
strengthened, when her decision was made. She cackled mockingly and
pulled her arm from my grasp.

“Save it, Mac.
I’m gone.” She declared, and brushed by me out the door.

That was the
last I ever saw of her.

Metallica was
blasting through the stereo. Groups of rowdy kids were taking up
absolutely every single space available. Some were belting out the
words to the song—it drifted towards me, harsh and out of key
….

I looked idly
around the room, taking in the scene—my vision foggy, my glance
hazy. The red plastic cup in my hand was heavy, the cigarette in my
fingers wreathing my face with smoke. A smile contorted my lips as
I walked forward with leaden feet. There was something I had to do,
something I’d wanted to do for a long time, and this propelled my
steps—stumbling and unbalanced—towards the stairs.

Suddenly I
wasn’t holding my drink, but someone’s hand. I was pulling someone
up the stairs with me. The image shifted then, the camera angle
changed. I saw the stairs as we took them, slowly. I could hear
myself laughing, could feel the giddiness in my stomach. I watched
my feet as they reached the landing and stumbled into the nearest
bedroom. I heard the silence once the door shut behind me. I
turned, and the whole world spun, reeling wildly.

“
I can’t
believe this is happening ….”

I woke with a
start, blinking into the dark, momentarily confused until I
realized it had all been a dream. Yet it had all seemed so
familiar. The faded brown carpet, the chipped yellow walls. I knew
I had seen them before, somewhere.

Allison was
gone and I was all alone in our room, but the loneliness didn’t
taunt me like it once had. I knew I was never really truly alone,
not anymore. I breathed peacefully and turned my thoughts back to
the dream. The dream that had seemed almost like déjà vu, like I
had lived through it before. Especially the voice at the end. I
knew that voice, even through the haze, the distortion. It was
Riley.

I frowned into
the dark now, searching, straining my mind to come up with the
memory. I just couldn’t place it. We’d been to hundreds of house
parties over the course of the years, almost one a weekend. It was
impossible to decipher where this one had taken place. And why
remember it now, anyway? What was the significance of remembering
another crazy old drunken night of debauchery?

I focused on
Riley’s voice.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
He’d
said. What was happening? I had pulled him up the stairs; we’d gone
into a bedroom. He’d shut the door behind us ….

Oh! I sat
straight up in bed, my eyes wide, my hand over my mouth as I gasped
in vivid remembrance. I could feel the heat staining my cheeks as
the memory suddenly invaded my head. The vision was crystal
clear—which was baffling to me. I thought I blacked out that night.
But now, I remembered everything. I saw it all. I filled in the
blanks of my dream.

I’d been
feeling woozy from the Quaaludes—but good, confident. Riley and I
had been kidding around, joking and laughing, when suddenly I’d
lost my balance and fallen into him. I remembered landing against
the solid width of his chest, how the abruptness of it had shocked
me, how good it felt to be so close to him.

I’d never
really wanted him like that before—though I’d always been
curious—so at that moment, I went for it. He was still laughing
when I looked up at him, amazed, and silenced his mouth with my
lips.

I can’t believe
I’d ever forgotten this. Now I could remember everything … the
taste of his mouth, the feel of it against mine. I think I’d taken
him by surprise, but after he recovered Riley returned my kiss just
as eagerly.

It’d been my
idea to go upstairs. Of course it had been, wasn’t everything
always my idea? Once the door to the bedroom was shut we’d made out
in frenzy, fuelled by the cheap beer and the good drugs coursing
through our veins, the years of pent-up curiosity, the sudden
culmination of all our hidden feelings. It had been … amazing. Hot.
Better than I ever could have expected. Riley and I had drunkenly
tripped our way over to the bed … and then … and then ….

I frowned. I
couldn’t remember anymore, my memories just stopped. They
vanished.

I flicked the
light on—rules be damned—and grabbed a cigarette from my
nightstand. I couldn’t believe this had actually transpired. What
the hell was I supposed to do with this now? I took a deep drag in
thought. How far had we gone? And did Riley know, did he remember?
If he did, why didn’t he say anything? Why had nothing happened
between us afterwards?

Had I wanted
something to happen? Would I have, had I known?

I took a deep
drag of my smoke and slowly blew it out, staring up at ceiling,
trying to sort out my twisted, roiling emotions. I had no idea how
to answer those questions. This revelation turned my entire world
upside down—one I’d barely established as somewhat stable—and I
had absolutely no idea how to feel about it. Everything was still
so new, so different, I hadn’t even figured out who I really was
yet.

And Riley was
my oldest friend in the world. He was my best friend. I couldn’t
even think about him that way … could I? I rejected the thought
automatically, shying away from the possibility. What Riley and I
had was true, it was exasperating at times but it was just …
timeless. How could either one of us dare to ruin it like that? I
knew I couldn’t. I cared too much about him to take such a terrible
chance.

I pictured the
dark, warm eyes of my friend as he gazed at me so often, with so
much tenderness and affection. I thought of the deep bond between
us, the impossible camaraderie we shared that enabled us to be
totally honest and frank with each other. So what had prompted him
to keep this of all secrets from me? Was it just embarrassment? Or
was it something more?

What if … what
if Riley loved me, like really loved me, more than a friend?

I shook my
head, scoffing at the sheer ridiculousness of such a thought. I was
agonizing over nothing. Riley didn’t love me; there was no way he
could, so there was nothing to worry about. I was just his
friend—his best friend maybe, but only a friend. I mean, not two
weeks after our one secret, stolen night—a night he hadn’t even
bothered enough to tell me about—Riley had found Emily, and now
they were in love.

And then of
course there was the biggest reason, the reason I couldn’t seem to
forget, or really forgive. Riley had left me. I blew out a drag of
my smoke, relieved by that fact for the first time since it
happened. Riley had left me behind so easily. Too easily. There was
no way he could love me.

Was there?

For as long as
I’d known him, I had never been so nervous to see my friend.

I was early.
This time, I was the one waiting for him. I sat at the table in the
little room, my legs crossed, my foot shaking restlessly. I lit yet
another cigarette and looked up at the clock for the umpteenth
time. He was late. I hoped nothing had happened. The roads were
slick with ice this time of year and the snow falling lightly now
could easily have hampered his vision. I prayed fervently that
Riley hadn’t been in an accident or something. I needed
answers.

He finally
arrived, whistling as he pushed his way through the door. He
coughed in mock exaggeration and waved the smoke out of the air, a
smile on his face.

“Smoke much?”
Riley laughed, pausing in his stride to open the window a touch.
The smoke wafted away and the cool, fresh air felt good on my
heated cheeks.

“Yeah, I
guess.” I chuckled nervously. I waited while Riley hung up his coat
and made himself a coffee. He sat down across the table and eyed me
suspiciously.

“You okay?” He
wondered, taking a sip from his cup. “You look pretty ramped up
today.”

“Do I?” I wiped
my sweaty hands on the legs of my jeans and tried unsuccessfully to
sound casual. “Huh.”

“What’s up Mac?
You nervous about getting out? Only a few days left.”

Oh, right. Five
days until D-day. I had totally forgotten about it, my mind had
been thoroughly occupied with … other things. But actually, I was
nervous about getting out of rehab. I was afraid of having a
choice. I was afraid I’d choose wrong.

“Yeah, I’m
nervous.” I admitted.

“Don’t be.”
Riley shook his head. “The sober-living facility is supposed to be
great. You’ll be housed with other recovering addicts, people who
understand where you’re coming from. You’ll be supported every step
of the way.”

“Yeah.” I
nodded. I tried to imagine my future living in the city, away from
my family, away from Charlie and all my other friends. I’d have to
get a job, I’d have to pay rent, and I’d have to … live again, for
real. Sober. It all seemed fairly overwhelming. Especially since
Riley wasn’t going to be with me. That was the hardest part.

“How about
you?” I asked him. “Are you excited to get back to school?”

“Yeah.” He
answered, but shrugged noncommittally. “I guess.”

It seemed
neither of us was eager to leave the other. I thought about that a
moment, lighting another cigarette and biting my lip. I couldn’t
put it off any longer; I needed to talk to him about my dream. I
needed some answers.