CHAPTER 54
Christmas. So. This was it. I sat on the leather couch at my parent’s house, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching the scene unfold. I was happy. I had just shot up not ten minutes earlier, and I was in my happy place. A smile lit my lips as I watched my father pass out presents in joviality. A fire crackling in the hearth.
My mom had her new camcorder out and every few minutes she’d scan the room, though there was nothing new to record. Marcy and Blake were snuggled up on the other couch. Blake was wearing a striped two-piece pyjama set with matching robe and slippers. He was sixty if he was a day, and every time I looked at him, I laughed.
Christmas did seem to hold some special power, besides joy and peace and all that. My mom, my dad, my sister, her husband…no one seemed to harbour any ill will towards me, not like the last time I’d seen them.
When I finally made it in the door the night before, winded from the cold walk, my dad had actually hugged me. Mom was beside herself with excitement. Marcy offered me a drink, and Blake put his arm around me like it was a natural place for it to be.
I was surprised. Baffled even, and wary at first, just in case this was some kind of trick and Jake Donovan was about to hurry down the chimney. After a while, though, I settled in comfortably. I couldn’t help myself. It felt good. It felt like I belonged again, for the first time in a long time.
No one mentioned the wedding. No one mentioned Jake. My mother did mention Grey, her face totally innocent, asking me if he was joining us for dinner.
I was startled by the question.“No…he has plans.” I answered quickly, suspicious.
“Oh, well. Maybe next time.” She said. And it looked like she meant it .
I couldn’t believe it. It was like aliens had come and taken my old family away, replacing them with identical twins—nice identical twins. As the time passed, harmoniously for once, I felt all the anger I had towards them slowly fading away. Maybe the months we’d spent apart had cooled my jets, or maybe it was a sign, maybe I was growing up or something. Maturing.
Dad exclaimed over the putting machine I’d given him—Grey’s idea, he said every executive needed one. Mom loved her pink sweater, Marcy her silver earrings, Blake his pipe. I had to get him a pipe—come on, look at the guy. But he liked it.
I was glad I’d scraped up enough money to buy them all presents, though at the time, I’d wanted to use it for dope instead.
Marcy gave me a diary; it was beautiful, leather-bound with brown and blue embellishments. Blake gave me a chess set which I was actually afraid of, it seemed way over my head, but he promised to teach me. My present from my parents fit into a little tiny box they gave to me last, after all the other gifts were opened.
“What’s this?” I wondered. They became noticeably more animated as I held the box in my hands. “It’s not going to explode, is it?”
“No! Open it!” Mom could barely contain herself.
I grinned and unwrapped the gift as slowly as I could (just to make her go crazy), until even I couldn’t handle the suspense anymore. I ripped the paper away and tore the lid off the box. Inside sat a set of keys.
“Is this…” My eyes were wide. “Did you get me a car?”
“Yes!” Mom clapped, jumping up and down. “It’s in the garage.”
“An actual car?” I couldn’t believe it. I stared into the box, stunned, horrified.
I was terrible. I was a terrible, horrible child. I looked up at my parents, into their happy, shining faces—and was overcome with guilt. All consuming guilt.
“I don’t deserve this.” I decided, tears welling up in my eyes.
Dad shook his head. “Come on, don’t you want to see it?”
I nodded briefly. I couldn’t believe what they’d done for me, after everything I’d done to them…so much they didn’t even know about. I tried not to think about how much I’d stolen; I tried to push the guilt from my mind. I couldn’t tell them about it, not now. It would only give them a reason to hate me again.
I could be good now, couldn’t I? I could try to be good. I could try…
“Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
“Thanks, Mom.” I squeezed her into a hug. They were both surprised by my affection, but I couldn’t blame them. They’d had months of nothing from me .
Marcy and Blake sat nearby on the couch, smiling at the scene without a trace of jealousy or resentment on their faces. I hugged them, too, just because I could, and though it took them by surprise, they seemed content—happy that I was happy.
My car was a thing of beauty. It wasn’t fancy or rare or expensive, which I loved. It was an old Ford Thunderbird, light blue, made in the late eighties. The seats were cushy with soft blue upholstery. It was necessarily an automatic and had a large, roomy back seat with plenty of space in the trunk.
I couldn’t stop thanking my parents; I thanked them over and over again. They were overcome by my happiness. I saw tears in my mother’s eyes.
After supper, we all took our drinks into the living room, enjoying the crackling fire and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. Everyone was relaxed and happy. I was excited, too; I knew that soon, I’d get to do some more heroin. It was so easy to sneak away and take care of myself and then return and continue on with total bliss and happiness. My family didn’t even notice. It was perfect.
Just when I thought the evening couldn’t get any better, the doorbell rang.
My heart leapt into my throat at the noise. I had been secretly hoping…it’d be just like him to…I ran to the door before anyone else had a chance. Sure enough, standing there in the cold with a smirk on his face, stood Grey.
I jumped into his arms. He was my best Christmas present by far. I kissed his face, every spot I could reach.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” I repeated in a whisper. He laughed at my exuberance, wrapping his arms around me and twirling me around.
“Merry Christmas.” He spoke in my ear.
I grasped Grey’s hand and pulled him into the house. It suddenly felt very stiff in the living room; the change was tangible compared to the relaxed atmosphere I’d left it in. Marcy and Blake sat up, wary, and my mom didn’t know what to do. Dad sat down by the fireplace, his expression blank, and he, too, seemed at a loss for words.
Grey cleared his throat. He looked gorgeous in a black collared shirt and dark blue jeans. He’d come over just for me, even knowing how awkward it would be…and it meant the world. I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable. I knew my family would love Grey if they’d only give him a chance, and it seemed that night, for whatever reason, would be the best time to try.
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Taylor.” Grey acknowledged.
“Thank you, Grey.” Her answering smile was tight .
“Mackenzie, why don’t you go show Grey your present?” Dad suggested then, to the concealed relief of everybody else. While we were out of the room, they could have a few moments to compose themselves, to get a handle on the situation.
And hopefully, think of some topics of conversation.
“Yeah, sure. Come see.” Still holding Grey’s hand, I smiled and pulled him through the house into the garage. It was better when we were alone. We were both able to breathe again, to act naturally.
“You got a car?” He was as amazed as I’d been, stepping into the three-car garage.
“What do you think?” I smiled, sweeping my hand over the auto. “Pretty, hey?”
“Nice ride.” Grey smiled and leaned in closer to inspect it. “Does it have a radio?”
“Yeah, why?”
“No reason. Just get in.”
“Okay.” I grinned, curious as I got into the driver’s side. Grey sat in the passenger seat, looking down at his watch and playing with the radio dials while I turned the key back to accessory.
“Thank you for coming.” I smiled up at him as he fiddled, completely ecstatic.
“Bruce Willis had already saved the day, a few times, actually…and I wanted to give you your Christmas present.” He winked slyly.
“But I thought we agreed not to get things for each other.” I protested.
“It’s just something little.”
“Okay…?”
“Just listen.” He turned up the volume dial. After a few minutes of DJ prattle, suddenly I recognized Grey’s velvet voice, along with the rest of the band, coming to me in crystal clear audio from over the radio waves.
“Oh, Grey! That’s you, on the radio!” I hugged him. “How does it feel?”
“Awesome.” Grey frowned. His expression didn’t match his answer.
“It doesn’t look too awesome.” I giggled.
He sighed. “They’re playing the wrong song.”
“Oh.” I listened for a moment, but I didn’t see what the big deal was. Who cared what song was playing? “Come on, Grey. This is you, on the radio. This is huge!”
“I know, but I wanted…I thought the first single was going to be your song.”
“Oh.” It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. “Wait, you mean…you recorded my song?”
His blue eyes shone at me. “That’s why we were at the studio for the extra week. ”
“Really?” Happy tears stung my eyes. I stared up at Grey, amazed, completely overwhelmed by his gift. “I still can’t believe you even wrote me a song,” I smiled gloriously at him. “…and then to record it…” I shook my head. “Thank you.”
“It’s just the first of many.” Grey shrugged. “And if you can’t hear it on the radio, I guess you’ll have to listen to…this.” He pulled something from his pocket then; it was square and flat and had a picture of…him. And Zack, and Alex, and there was Lucas and Jimmy, and cover art…
“Your CD.” I grabbed it from his hands. “They’re out now? Grey, this is awesome. That’s you right there. Are there more pictures? Does it have the lyrics…?”
Grey laughed at my enthusiasm. He pulled me across the console and into his lap, kissing my smiling lips. “You, Mackenzie, are one of a kind.”
“No, I’m not. You are.” I replied seriously, gazing up at him. I gripped his face in my hands so he would understand the sincerity of my words. “I’m so, so proud of you. Really.”
Grey smiled, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly—but I could tell my words made him happy. He opened the case, peering at the dashboard of my car a moment and chuckling. “I think CDs were a little before this car’s time.” He tapped the cassette deck in the dash face and smirked.
“Oh.” I hadn’t realized my car was that old. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. We can get you one of those adapters. But I guess this will have to wait.” He put the CD back in its case and snapped it shut. “For later.”
“No, it won’t. Come on, I have the best idea.” Eagerly, I turned the key off and opened up the door. “My parents have a stereo. Let’s go blow their minds.”
Grey followed me hesitantly, unsure. “Somehow I doubt our music is your parents’ style. It’s a bit…heavy, don’t you think?”
“They can handle some shaking up.” I smiled and grasped his hand again. “Seriously, they’ve been…really cool today. I don’t know how to explain it, but I have a feeling they’re going to love your music. Like really love it too, not just pretend.”
“You think so?” He seemed skeptical, but there was no denying the hopefulness there, apparent in his face. Despite everything, he really wanted my family to like him. I could tell.
“I’d bet money on it.”
“Okay then. You’re on. ”
I held up Grey’s CD triumphantly as we rejoined my family in the living room. He watched me, hanging back, unsure of the spotlight as I turned on the stereo and put the disc in the tray.
“What’s this Mackenzie?” Mom wondered.
“Grey’s CD. It’s finally done.” I showed them all the case.
“Can I see that?” Marcy asked, holding out her hands. I threw it over and she opened it up, flipping through the booklet inside.
“So, what type of music do you play?” Dad asked Grey.
“Uh…hard rock…I guess you could say. It’s not exactly seasonal.”
I giggled at his description and then hit play. We sat back and listened as the first song came on—chugging heavy guitars and screaming, thrashing vocals. I looked over at Grey from the corner of my eye, and smiled. He tried to keep his mouth straight, his features composed, but as Zack wailed into a screaming guitar solo the laughter burst out of him. I couldn’t help myself, I had to laugh as well.
It didn’t take long before everyone was laughing, whether we were all in on the same joke or not, I couldn’t tell, but it helped ease the tension in the room.
“It’s okay, we don’t have to listen to it.” Grey offered. “It’s a bit heavy.”
“No, I like it.” Dad insisted. “I used to know a thing or two about rock and roll. Just ask Deb here.”
“Yeah, you were a regular Paul McCartney.” Mom rolled her eyes, making us laugh again. There was no way my dad—with his strait-laced suits and ties—was ever into anything heavy. He was a Simon and Garfunkel fan, through and through.
But it was nice that he was trying.
“We can’t stop until you hear the best part.” I grinned. Grey cleared his throat as I flipped to the last song on the CD. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
The music started slowly, quiet, with just the gentle plunking of a piano and the soft strumming of his guitar. As Grey’s warm, velvet voice sounded through the speakers, I melted back into my chair, closing my eyes and letting the sweet sounds of his voice and the words of his lips sink deep into my heart.
“Sitting here in the dark, Mackenzie’s next to me.
She’s lying in the moonlight, shining silver in the sheets.
And though it pains me so, I know I have to go.
I have to leave Mackenzie lying all alone .
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…
In the dark alone, now there’s only me.
I’m staring at the moonlight shining silver in the streets.
The city lights are twinkling, glowing like her eyes.
No matter where I go, she’s always on my mind.
Mackenzie, I hope you miss me,
When I’m gone, when I’m gone.
I’m away now, but you need to know how
Much you’re loved, how much you’re loved…”
The room was struck with silence as the song slowly ebbed, the beautiful notes fading softly away.
“Wow.” Marcy was the first to speak, her voice awed, no louder than a whisper. “That was really good.”
Mom’s eyes had tears in them. She smiled at Grey. “That was beautiful.” She nodded. “Really. Beautiful.”
I glanced over at Grey. He accepted my family’s compliments with great aplomb, but his blue eyes didn’t leave my face for a second—like my opinion was the only one that mattered, the only one he really needed to hear.
There was nothing I could say to do it justice. Completely oblivious to the family members surrounding us, I crossed the room and threw my arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. “I love it.” And then, because that wasn’t enough either, I kissed him deep and long, my arms around him, my fingers twirling through his dark hair. We stayed that way, oblivious, until Blake cleared his throat, jolting us back to the present. I’d totally forgotten our surroundings, had totally forgotten everything but Grey’s lips on mine. We broke away, sheepish, but no one seemed appalled or annoyed by our affection. They looked at Grey, and then they looked at me, and whatever they saw there made them smile.
Maybe it was the simple happiness I could feel radiating from me, shining like the lights on the Christmas tree. Whatever it was, they seemed to approve. And then I knew, without a doubt, that Grey had won over my parents. Grey had won over my family, just like I knew he would. All he needed was a chance.
Nothing could have made me happier. It was all so easy after that. Grey spotted my chess set and challenged Blake to a game. Blake smiled at the challenge and helped Grey set up the board on the coffee table.
I sat by Marcy, who looked stunning in a white cowl-neck sweater and the dangly silver earrings I’d given her, and we watched them play chess. I didn’t understand a thing; I made up my mind to give Grey the chess set as soon as we got home. He was holding his own against Blake, of all people—which was impressive to me.
Mom and Dad sat nearby. Dad had an arm slung loosely over Mom’s shoulders. They looked very cozy, and happy, snacking, laughing. It was very peaceful.
I knew one thing would make it even better.
The first symptoms of withdrawal were already hitting me. I’d been distracted, with Grey’s arrival and the car and the CD and everything, I hadn’t really noticed the severity of my craving. It had my full attention now. I couldn’t ignore the sweat beading on my brow, the sudden weakness in my limbs. I couldn’t wait, I didn’t want to wait. I wrapped an arm around myself, fidgeting and uncomfortable. I needed to do some more heroin. And I needed to do it now.
“Mackenzie, you okay?” Grey eyed me cautiously, instantly aware. He gave me a knowing look.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” I sat up, shakily. “I think I just ate too much.”
“Do you need anything, honey?” Mom wondered.
“No, I’m okay. I’ll be right back.” I hurried up the stairs to my old bedroom, where my supplies were stashed in my overnight bag. I took them all into the nearest bathroom and shut the door. Quickly, my blood pounding in my ears, I fought back the nausea and started a batch. The sickness made my hands shake and it took me way longer than normal to get the heroin into the syringe.
I squeezed my hand shut. I felt better knowing relief was near, that soon the bliss would find me and have its way. My veins were slow to pop. I clenched and re-clenched my fist until one was near enough to the surface. Then, slowly, compensating for the shakiness of my hands, I plunged the needle into my skin.
“You okay honey? I’ve got some Gravol here if you…” The door began to open. I realized with horror that in my haste, I’d forgotten to lock the door .
“No, Mom! No, get out!” I screamed. But it was too late. The door was open. Mom looked confused at first when she found me leaning over the sink, my supplies scattered around me. Then she saw the needle sticking out of my arm, and she knew.
Her blue eyes opened in fright, her mouth dropped but no words came. She pointed at me in terror. “What are you doing?” Her voice, whisper thin at first, gradually gained back its strength. “Mackenzie, what are you doing to yourself?”
I didn’t know what to say. I had no excuse, no lie to tell. I stared at her, my dark eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. I must have looked just as afraid as she did.
“Answer me, young lady! What are you doing to yourself ?”
“Everything okay, Deb?” Dad’s voice floated up the hall, tight with concern.
“No, no, everything is not okay.” Mom’s voice started to shake; I recognized the noise. She was on the verge of tears.
“Mom, Mom, it’s okay.” I don’t know why I was saying that. I knew it wasn’t okay. I just wanted her to calm down.
“Get that thing out of your arm!” She demanded, grasping the needle from my numb fingertips and chucking it at the garbage. Her eyes were wild with despair as she looked at me, like she’d never seen me before. “Let me see you. Let me look at you.”
“Mom, don’t!” I tried to pry my arm from her grasp but her grip was surprisingly firm. She pushed the sleeve of my sweater up until all the skin was exposed. Her face went bone-white at the sight, at the clusters of tiny red dots that covered my skin. I felt the heat in my cheeks, the warm blush of shame that spread across my face.
I looked down at the floor.
“Mitch. Mitch, look. Just look at what she’s doing to herself.” Mom’s voice held horror now. My dad was there as well, taking in the awful sight.
I dared to look up at his face.
It was hard. Rigid, even. Colourless. He looked at me just as my mom had, like he’d never seen me before. Not before now. Now they knew my terrible secret.
I was addicted to heroin.
Yes, I knew it then. There was no more denying it, no justifying it, no excusing it. I was a heroin addict. And I couldn’t hide it anymore.
All the happiness from earlier slunk slowly from my being. Because all of it was a lie. All of it. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me feeling happiness, acceptance. I couldn’t feel happiness, not real happiness.
I couldn’t feel anything. Not anymore .
“This is what you’ve been doing with yourself?” Dad’s voice was weak; there was no strength within it, none of its usual gusto. I nodded. His features hardened even further, as if he was steeling himself for what he had to do next. He shut his eyes.
“Get out of my house.”
It took me a second. “…What?”
“Get out of my house. Do you hear me? I won’t have this…,” he didn’t even know what to call it, “I won’t have it in my house, Mackenzie.”
“Dad, I’m sorry, I have to…I get sick if I don’t.”
“I had no idea.” Mom gasped at my admission. “Oh, my baby, my baby…” She stood nearby, wringing her hands, tears in her eyes.
Dad’s jaw clenched. “ Get out of my house! ” he boomed suddenly. The harshness of his voice surprised me out of my stupor of shame, jolted me into action.
“I’m going!” I shouted back. Tears filled my eyes, blinding me, but somehow, I managed to collect my stuff, throwing my supplies into my bag and hastily zipping it up. I brushed past him and down the stairs, my arms around my stomach as it churned violently within me.
Grey was as pale as a ghost as I came back into the living room. I was out and out sobbing by then, tears streaming down my face. Nausea clutching at my stomach.
“Hey, hey, Mackenzie, you okay?” He stood and came to me, looking into my face. “Are you all right?”
I wondered what I looked like. Grey seemed really alarmed. “We’ve gotta go,” I answered through my tears. Marcy and Blake just stared, frozen in place, their eyes wide with confusion as they watched us. I wasn’t going to explain anything to them. They’d know soon enough. I grabbed the key to my car and the journal Marcy gave me. Grey found his coat in the hall closet and was back to me in an instant. He put an arm around my shoulders and helped me walk to the garage through the crippling pain.
“It’s okay, sugar. We’ll be home in no time.” His voice was oddly panicked as he helped me into the passenger seat of my car. I curled up into a ball in my seat, tighter than the fetal position, wrapping my arms around my knees and sobbing like my very heart was broken.
Because it had been, in a way. I didn’t know how to describe it, I still don’t know how exactly, but it was just like…complete betrayal. I’d been lying to myself the entire time. It was the closest I’d come to feeling like a part of our big-happy-family, and all of it was a lie. All the love, all the acceptance, all of it had been broken by my secret .
I hadn’t really been happy. I couldn’t be happy. I wasn’t capable of being happy.
Not without the drugs.
Through it all, my craving growled in protest, famished, flaring with need. Screaming in my ear. More important than the rest. More important than anything.
“It’s okay, Mackenzie.” Grey was nearly desperate, listening to me sob. “We’re almost home. They’ll forgive you, they will.”
“They won’t,” I cried. “They won’t. And it’s my fault. It’s all my fault…”