CHAPTER 53
The thought of quitting heroin didn’t cross our minds anymore, not when we could function as we did. We forced ourselves to function, determined to have the best of both worlds.
Whenever Grey and I woke up, either at his house or mine, we’d shoot up almost immediately. It wasn’t just a want anymore—it was a need, for the all too familiar sickness was always at bay, waiting to strike if we went without for too long. The rest of the day would pass in a blur of total, utter bliss. If I had to work, I’d start doing cocaine towards the evening to get ready for my shift. It gave me the energy I needed, the spunk required to make it through.
The tips were even better at the Aurora than they had been at the Red Wheat (on the weekends anyway) so I could support all my drug habits and pay my rent. Grey’s band played there a lot—some weekends, some weekdays—so I was essentially getting paid to watch nearly all of their shows, and he was getting paid to play them.
As soon as my shift was over, I’d hurry to meet Grey at home, where he’d be waiting for me with a fresh batch all prepared, and then we’d shoot ourselves into oblivion once again. It was a fine balance, one that was always teetering towards the loss of control. Somehow we were able to make it work. We had to make it work.
Charlie was trying desperately to get over Zack. The evidence was obvious. If Grey and I stayed at my house overnight, it was inevitable to see or hear some strange guy heading out the door. Grey didn’t like it; he didn’t like the thought of strange men coming and going all hours of the night. We started spending more nights at his house because of it, which I thought was a bit of an overreaction, but one I didn’t mind. I was worried about Charlie but she seemed happy—she was always out clubbing, drinking, living it up. So I let it go.
Courtney was now a constant in our lives. She and Charlie were nearly inseparable. I always felt a pang of jealousy when I saw them together, talking and sharing secrets and laughing at private jokes. The way Charlie and I used to be. Even though we’d managed to patch up our relationship, we were never as close as we had been, and I feared we never would be again. That’s why—though it did hurt my feelings—I wasn’t really surprised when Charlie asked me if Courtney could move in with us.
“But, where will she stay?” I wondered.
“She can sleep in my room,” Charlie suggested. “Or, if, I mean, since you’re at Grey’s house all the time anyway…maybe she could stay…”
I didn’t let her finish. “I’ll talk to Grey.” I interrupted.
He was amazingly receptive to the idea. I was surprised, I thought guys weren’t into that kind of thing, not until they were ready to settle down, anyway.
Grey just smirked at me.
“You should move in. You’re here all the time anyway.”
“Are you sure you’re not just saying that?” I argued. “If I hadn’t asked, would you have asked?”
“Yeah, sure. I just didn’t think about it.”
“Really?” I wondered doubtfully.
“Yes.” He rolled his eyes at me. “Would it help if I said it?”
“Yes.”
“Mackenzie, would you move in with me? Please?”
“Why, Grey,” I exclaimed. “I thought you’d never ask.”
By the end of November, I was officially living with Grey. It really was no different than before, since I spent most of my time there anyway. I was sad to move out, though. Every excited giggle on Courtney’s lips hurt me just a little more, shoved the knife in just a little deeper. She was always hanging around on the edges, watching as we loaded up my things, impatiently waiting for me to get the hell out of there.
Charlie hugged me when I left.
“I’ll miss you, Mac. And this doesn’t change anything, you know.”
“Yeah.” I nodded glumly. She punched me playfully in the arm.
“Don’t be like that. You know you’ll be happier over there.”
“Maybe. But I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll see me all the time.” She promised .
I knew I’d see her at work—I’d see both of them at work—but it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same. I forced myself to smile at her as I left, heading down the old rickety stairs, leaving my first apartment behind me. Trying not to think of how excited Charlie had been when I first moved in, how eager we’d been to get high, how we’d spent that whole first night giggling ecstatically. Suddenly I sympathized with Katrina, Charlie’s first roommate. I wondered if, like me, the door had slammed behind her before she’d made it down the stairs.
Grey tried to comfort me. He cooked up an extra shot that night just to raise my spirits. It worked, too. I lay back on his bed with his warm arms around me, and suddenly, I didn’t care about Courtney and Charlie. Suddenly, they didn’t matter. I was with the man of my dreams—I was living with the man of my dreams. I couldn’t believe it. I propped myself up on my arm and just stared at him, amazed.
“What?” Grey asked me casually, suddenly aware of my scrutiny.
“I can’t believe I found you,” I said with awe. “How am I so lucky?”
He smirked at me, his blue eyes shining, and tucked an errant strand of dark hair behind my ear. “I wonder the same thing every time I look at you.”
That night was a memorable one.
But they all were really. I’d never known such contentment…sleeping in Grey’s arms every night, waking up to his gorgeous face every morning, spending every minute we possibly could together. His room grew much messier after I moved in, my clothes were all over the place, underfoot, strewn across his chair and his bed. My makeup dominated the bathroom counter, my shampoo and conditioner and body wash left “slippery shit” all over the bottom of the tub, and my shoes practically overflowed the entryway. For all this, Alex and Zack complained more than Grey did, and even that was done in jest.
Living with three guys was surprisingly easy. They may have been messier than girls in most respects, but they were also painfully easygoing. And if they had a problem with something, they’d say it to my face instead of talking behind my back. We settled into a nice, harmonious arrangement. I’d even managed to forgive Zack for breaking my best (girl) friend’s heart. We never talked about it or brought it up or anything, we just…agreed to disagree. And I’d always loved Alex. He was just too sweet; he was too much fun not to fall in love with, with his long hair and his winning smile. The only disagreement we ever had was whether I should be allowed to knock down the beer-can castle, which had grown larger over the months, now dominating the little dining room. I was strongly in favour of the idea, but he had yet to be swayed .
Winter hit with full force. Its icy claws clung to the windows, glazed up the sidewalks and frosted over the stubble fields surrounding our little frozen town. I was oblivious to it. I was up above the clouds, sailing beneath an eternal summer sun, anchored to the earth by nothing more than Grey’s strong arms around me.
Heroin was like a beach in a needle. It was the only vacation I needed.
At times, when we were more lucid, Grey would take out his guitar and work on his music. That was my absolute favourite. I could sit on the bed and just watch him for hours as he practiced and composed, leaning over his guitar and deftly forcing notes from the strings. Grey would sing to me until I cried, overcome. He’d work on lyrics too, curled up with me on the bed with a pen in his hand. He could write the most beautiful poetry, I was in awe.
He tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me how to do it, how to create.
“Just write what you’re feeling.” He encouraged. “It doesn’t have to rhyme.”
I took the notebook from him, chewing on the end of the pen for a moment.
“Write what I’m feeling?” I asked again.
“Yeah.” He nodded.
Immediately, I put the pen to the paper, scrawling out one single word.
Happy.
And I was. Things had never been more perfect. Everything I’d ever wanted. With every day that passed, I loved Grey that much more. He was my world, my everything. I wished I had the capacity to write it all down, like he did. I wished I could express my feelings for him properly. Just the way his blue eyes lit up when I came home from work, or the way his arm would find me at night and pull me close was enough to fill my heart with delight, to make me sigh with a happiness I never thought possible.
Poor Grey. He’d have to be satisfied with me showing him.
The only real interruption to our bliss was the coming holidays. I dreaded them, knowing I couldn’t avoid my family any longer. Aside from Mom calling on my birthday, I hadn’t spoken to any of them since the wedding. There’d been no invitations to dinner, no phone calls to check in, nothing. Maybe they knew how much I’d stolen from them. Maybe they were so disgusted they didn’t want anything to do with me. I clung to the hope that somehow I’d be able to avoid them that Christmas.
Of course it was only a fool’s hope. Eventually, my phone rang, as I knew it would, and my mother’s overly happy, chipper-to-compensate voice was buzzing in my ear, eager to find out what my work schedule was like and how long I’d be able to stay over the holidays. I gave her Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, knowing if I stayed any longer Christmas would be a negative experience for all of us. She was satisfied with my agenda—though Marcy and Blake were staying longer than I was, she’d take what she could.
Grey laughed at me as I was packing. I shot him a glare and stuffed a sweater into my overnight bag. “You could come too, you know.” I threatened.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t want to interrupt your family time.”
“Please?”
“Sorry, sugar.” He shook his head. “But the boys and I have plans.”
“You do? What plans?” I frowned.
“ Die Hard. They always have a marathon on Christmas day.”
“I wouldn’t want to wreck that for you.” I scoffed. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to hang with the family—in truth, it would bring down the awkwardness level by far if he weren’t around. But I was going to miss Grey, and miss him badly. I hadn’t spent one night away from him for months.
I frowned again as he put my favourite pair of pyjamas in the bag for me. He smiled at my glum expression.
“Hey, don’t be like that. It’s only for two days. We’ve done weeks at a time before, remember?”
“Yeah, and I almost went crazy.”
He chuckled. “Mackenzie, I’ll be right here, in town. I’m five minutes away. If it gets too bad, you can escape them and come back.”
“Yeah.” I relented. It was nearly time for me to go. I zipped up the suitcase and sat back on the bed, eager now, excited for more than just holiday cheer. I pushed the sleeve of my sweater up and glanced meaningfully at Grey. “Can we do some more now? Before I go?” I’d been waiting for hours, ever since we shot up the last time.
“Sure.” He agreed, smirking casually. I knew he was just as eager as I was.
Then, a sudden thought occurred to me. “Grey, what am I going to do tomorrow?”
“Open presents?”
I giggled. “No, I mean…for heroin. I’ll have to do some. It won’t be a very Merry Christmas for anyone when I turn green. Still festive, I guess.”
I meant it as a joke, but Grey frowned at my predicament. “Is there any way you could leave? You could come here quick and I could…fix you up.”
“How would I explain that?” I wondered. “Maybe I should just take some with me. Then I can do it myself, I can just slip to the bathroom or something.” I looked down at my forearm riddled with little red, tiny dots. It couldn’t be that hard .
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Will you be able to?”
“Maybe. I’ve seen you do it like, a trillion times.”
“Yeah, but I’m not deathly afraid of needles.” Grey frowned. “Why don’t you try doing this one, then? See how you do.”
“Okay.” I picked up the supplies and began, taking a small chunk of the dark, sticky, tar-like heroin and placing it on the spoon. I added a splash of water and then heated it all with my lighter until the mixture was a dull, oily brown. Taking a tiny piece of cotton, I placed it in the spoon and then, grasping the needle shakily, sucked it up into the syringe. This part I’d done a hundred times before, but I still looked up at Grey for reassurance. “How was that?” I wondered.
Grey nodded, thoughtfully. “Good. Take a bit less though. Just to be careful.”
“Okay.” I breathed nervously and made a fist with my left arm, holding the needle in my right hand. I waited until a vein was apparent, glowing bluely beneath the translucent veil of my skin. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, that I was actually capable of sticking a needle into myself. Slowly, trying to keep my hand steady, I sunk the sharp steel through my skin, hitting the vein with ease.
Carefully, I retracted the plunger, watching as my blood spurted up into the syringe. Then, at Grey’s nod, I shot the drugs into my veins.
It felt good, almost better than usual. This time it came with an odd sense of power. I was able to do it myself. I could get myself high. I felt so independent, so…in control. I slumped over, a heavy smile on my face, and looked up at Grey.
“How’d I do?” I wondered breathily.
“You’re a champion.” Grey chuckled. He took a tiny chunk of the heroin and wrapped it up in a separate balloon for me, hiding everything else I’d need in the bottom of my bag. “Be careful, Mackenzie, and don’t let your parents catch you with this stuff.” He warned. “There’s only one conclusion they’ll jump to, and it’ll be the right one this time.”
“Okay.” I nodded slowly. I watched, overcome by waves of bliss as Grey got out some supplies for himself. He was so quick, such a pro, it took him seconds to inject rather than the minutes it took me. When he was done he fell back heavily, putting his arm around my shoulders and drawing me near.
“Merry Christmas, Mackenzie.” He smiled drowsily, kissing my cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Grey.”