Life of the Party (Wayward #1)

CHAPTER 63

We were suffering through another ordinary, painstaking day of sober living when there was an unexpected knock on our door.

Allison looked up, but I didn’t care enough to even turn my head, curled in a ball on the bed. I brought my cigarette to my lips and took a slow, mindless drag.

“Mackenzie?” It was one of the administrators, Janet. “You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Allison frowned, looking at me suspiciously. “We aren’t allowed visitors.”

Janet shrugged. “Apparently they’ve made an exception. Mackenzie?”

“Who is it?” I asked, without moving.

“I have no idea. I was just sent to give you the message. Come on, dear.”

Rolling my eyes, I slumped wearily off the bed.

Janet led the way down the hallway. She pulled me closer to her as we walked. “Mackenzie.” She looped her arm through mine, patting my hand. “It’s true, we don’t usually allow visitors, but we’ve been informed about your…situation. Your boyfriend died shortly before you were admitted, is that correct?”

I nodded.

“We’ve noticed that you’re not…doing the best. Treatment is pointless if you don’t want to get better. We thought maybe it’d be beneficial for you to have a friend, someone to talk to…other than the therapist.” She gave me a knowing look, smiling wryly. “We’re all on your side here, Mackenzie, remember that. We want you to get better. But you need to want to get better, too. Okay?”

She took me down the hallway towards the offices, stopping at a door on the left and pushing me gently towards it. “Go ahead. You’ve got an hour.”

I took a hesitant glance in the window .

It was Riley. Of course it was. He looked uncomfortable—nervous, even—sitting on the edge of his chair, fidgeting with something in his hands. He was dressed simply in blue jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt, but I was amazed again at how much older he looked. Grown up, almost. His dark hair was short and shaggy now. But he was Riley. My Riley. My old friend, my best friend.

I hesitated a moment outside the door, torn. Part of me—no, most of me, was still furious at him, at his betrayal. I was in rehab because of him. I was sober because of him. Against my will, he’d ripped me away from my only semblance of life. I still hadn’t forgiven him for it. It felt like I’d never really be able to.

I pressed my hand to the glass window and shut my eyes. The other part of me was so…lost. So…flailing. So alone. The other part of me needed him, like I always had, like I always would. My hand moved to the knob then, seemingly of its own volition, and slowly opened the door.

I don’t know what Riley saw, but I could feel the strain of anguish written in my expression. He stared at me for a moment as I entered, and the smile that started in greeting slowly fell from his face.

“Oh, Zee.” Was all he said.

And then I was in his arms. Safe, warm, comfortable arms. Weakly, I hugged him back, burying my face into his shoulder, doing my absolute damndest to keep from crying, but he held me so tightly and with his old familiar voice he whispered, “it’s okay, it’s okay,” in my ear, and before I knew it I was sobbing, the combination of utter exhaustion and total heartbreak pouring from me in noiseless, racking shudders.

I was so tired. So sad. None of it was fair, and it was all happening to me.

Riley took me over to the couch, pulling me onto his lap like a child, holding me and letting me cry on his shoulder. His hands stroking my hair, so soothingly.

I didn’t let it last long, my breakdown; I hated being that way. I hated letting him see me that way. Somehow, I managed to pull myself together, biting my lip in an effort to stop the tears, my breath hitching in my throat. When I was somewhat calm again, I pulled myself away from Riley’s shoulder and looked up into his dark chocolate eyes.

“If I’d known this was all it took for you to come back,” I sniffled, my voice wobbling. “I’d have gone to rehab sooner.”

“Are you still mad at me for this? For the whole rehab thing?” He wondered, his expression hopeful, though his eyes were sad.

“Yes,” I admitted.

He nodded slowly. “Well, I’m mad at you, too. ”

I smiled dully. “Ha. What else is new?”

“I mean it. You’re the one that did this to yourself. How could you let it come to this? How could you let it get so bad?”

I just shook my head. I didn’t know what to say to that.

Riley made a noise of frustration. “Are you even trying to get better?”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

I looked away. He wasn’t going to like the answer to this question.

“Mackenzie, please. Why won’t you even try?”

“Because, Riley. I don’t want to get better! I don’t want to live!” I wailed.

Riley took me by surprise then. He grabbed me by the arms, fiercely, forcing me to look at him. His hands were like a vice. “Don’t say that!” He demanded, giving me a shake, his face rigid with anger. “Don’t ever say that! How could you?”

“I can’t do this, Riley. It’s too hard!”

“Bullshit.” He spat. “It’s not too hard. You’re too selfish. There are people in your life who love you, Mac. What about Marcy, or your parents? Charlie and your other friends? What about me? Do you know what it would do to me if you died? Do you even care?”

I shook my head, dropping my face in my hands, my dark hair tumbling around me. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Riley sighed. His grip lightened, his hands loosening until they were warm again, comforting on my arms. He rubbed them soothingly a moment and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Talk to me then.” He implored. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s…” I took a deep breath. “I just…I miss him, you know? So badly. It hurts…all the time. It’s not getting better. I miss us. I miss what we had.”

Riley listened and nodded silently, but there was a sudden hardness in his face I instantly recognized. Like my words had made him…angry.

I frowned at him, sniffling. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Riley.”

He paused a moment, shaking his head. “I guess I don’t get how you could…miss…what you had.” He confessed. “Mackenzie, your entire relationship was toxic. It wasn’t healthy at all. It turned you into a heroin addict. He turned you into a heroin addict.” Riley shook his head at me. “How can you miss that? ”

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. I couldn’t speak; I was so flustered, so offended by his careless words.

“How could I miss that?” I managed finally, my voice riddled with disbelief. “How…dare you. You have no idea what we had, what we shared. It was amazing. I mean, yeah, we liked to party, but we loved each other. We really loved each other.” I glared fiercely, daring him to disagree. “You don’t know anything about it.”

Riley was undeterred, raising his eyebrows in doubt. “I know you wouldn’t be in here if not for him.” He stated. “When I left town, you weren’t anything like—”

“Yeah, exactly. When you left.” I interrupted. “You left me Riley, you totally abandoned me. And Grey was there. He was there for me when you weren’t. He…he took care of me…he…” I shook my head, unable to continue.

He loved me.

My anger was rapidly dissolving, the all too familiar tears of heartache burning just below the surface…the sadness, the aching. I wrapped my arms around the fearsome blazing in my chest, swallowing heavily.

“You know what Riley?” I managed, trying to breathe through the surging pain. “I think you should leave now.”

“Mac, come on—”

“No. I mean it. Please.” I blinked back my tears, avoiding his gaze. “Just go.”

“You think you’re the only one suffering? You think this isn’t hard for me too?” Riley sat stubbornly. “To see you like this, to put you in here? Grey did this to you, Mackenzie, but still he can do no wrong. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

I shook my head vehemently, my entire being rejecting his words, refusing to hear them. “Just go.” I pleaded desperately. “Please. Just go.”

Riley fell silent. The air was tense between us. I could feel his eyes on me, but refused to meet his gaze. I didn’t want to know it, I didn’t want to see the concern there, the sincerity sure to be in his expression, the truth. I wiped the tears hastily from my eyes and stared down at the floor, wishing he would leave.

After a long moment of my silent defiance, Riley sighed heavily and got up off the couch, rubbing a hand through his hair in defeat. He grabbed his jacket from the chair and I listened, distraught, as he opened the door behind me.

“I’m sorry, Mackenzie. I really am. Forget what I said, okay? I’m an idiot.” Riley admitted lowly. “I’m staying at my mom’s, and I’m just a phone call away. I’ll come back anytime you want, anytime you need to talk.” He paused, as if waiting for a response, but I gave him nothing, not even a nod. Resigned, he spoke again, but now his voice was soft. Sad.

“I know you’re hurting…I know you’re going through hell. But it doesn’t have to be this way forever. You have so much to live for, Mac, you just have to stop feeling sorry for yourself first.”

I let out a heavy breath. I didn’t want to hear it, but somewhere deep inside me, I knew Riley was right. The reason I wasn’t getting any better was because I didn’t want to. Life sucked, but it was up to me to change that. If I could. If I wanted to.

The door shut quietly, and then Riley was gone.

That evening we headed back to our room after an uneventful night of TV watching. I’d spent almost the entire time since Riley’s departure pensive with anger, with confusion, with sadness and denial—too distracted by the severity of his words to feign an interest in anything we’d been doing. Now, I flopped down on my bed and pulled my diary from the nightstand instead of getting ready for sleep like Allison was.

Riley wanted me to try, I was going to try. I was going to write down all my thoughts and all my feelings and all the different ways I knew he was wrong. How Grey and I were good together, how what we had was special, right, something I would never, ever regret. How it had been real, how it had been true in every way.

I flipped quickly through the few first pages of my diary I’d written in, my pathetic attempts at composing lyrics Grey’d encouraged me to do. I could never write like he did. He was so brilliant, so gifted and talented. My thoughts were stunted, immature. His poetry so deep, so meaningful…

I flipped another page and found, to my surprise, Grey’s messy scrawl. I frowned, tears stinging my eyes as I looked down at his familiar writing.

There, at the bottom of the page, were four lines of simple prose:

“If I have the strength to leave,

It’d be the greatest gift that I could give.

The greatest gift that I can give,

I want you to truly live.”

And then, at the end:

“I love you. Forgive me. ”

My frown deepened. Confused, I read and re-read his lines, my fingers passing delicately over his words. “If I have the strength to leave…”

And then, abruptly, I understood.

The diary fell from my trembling fingers, and I looked up, seeing nothing, blankly staring. These words weren’t just an idle poem or a song or a lyric.

They were a message to me.

“If I have the strength to leave…”

It was a suicide note.

No, it couldn’t be. But it was. The horrible truth crashed down on me, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Grey’s overdose never made sense to me. He was always so careful, so cautious about the amount we did, ever wary about the possibility. I’d always wondered how he could’ve made such a fatal mistake. I knew the answer now. I shut my eyes, dropping my head into my hands, my throat aching with tears. Grey hadn’t made a mistake. He’d deliberately taken too big a dose, just as I had. Unlike mine, his dose had been lethal. Grey had killed himself on purpose.

Why? Why?

My terrible revelation was interrupted as Allison strolled out from the bathroom, drying her short blonde hair idly with a towel. Quickly, I wiped at my eyes and tried to pull myself together before she could notice.

“Bathroom’s all yours, if you want.” She offered politely.

“Yeah…thanks,” I mumbled. Leaving my diary where it lay upside down in the mess of blankets, I stood up and got ready for bed, my motions automatic—wooden, like I was on autopilot again.

Grey had killed himself. My whole world was changed by this realization. It wasn’t an act of chance or fate or God. It was a decision. Grey had chosen death. He’d purposely taken himself away from this world. Away from everything. Away from me.

Grey, what have you done? Why? Why did you do it?

I got into my bed and instantly rolled over, facing the wall. Allison shut off the light, and even in the pitch black, my eyes stayed open wide—stunned, like a deer in the headlights. My heart was pounding fearfully hard in my chest. Grey had opted for death. Grey had killed himself. Why? I ran over and over the words of his slight poem. I wished he’d given me more, I wished I knew his motive.

In my mind, I pictured our last night together, the New Year’s Eve party at the Aurora. He’d been so upset to see I’d cut myself and he’d finally realized just how sickly and grotesque I’d become. But I thought I’d convinced him we would change our lives—that we could get clean together and live sober and happy. Hadn’t I?

“I’m going to make this right,” Grey had said, just before the stroke of midnight, when our kiss seemed like a promise. Was that what he meant? By killing himself? But how did that make it right…how did that make anything right? He was my life, my whole life. He knew how badly I needed him, how badly we needed each other…

I gasped as a sudden thought occurred to me. Maybe that was it, though. Maybe Grey knew how…dependent we were on each other. That we were addicted to each other as much as the heroin, and together, we’d never be able to kick the drugs. We couldn’t be apart, but if he stuck around, I’d never get clean. I’d just keep dying the same slow, drawn-out death that was so apparent in my features. But he couldn’t bear to just leave me, either. He couldn’t bear to live without me…

This new realization sunk deep, deep into my soul. Riley was right.

Our relationship hadn’t been healthy, as good as it was. We were too much the same, Grey and I—too eager for a good time, too willing to pursue the next high at the expense of our bodies. We were slowly destroying each other. And Grey realized that, in the end. So he took himself out of the picture. Gave me a chance…a chance at life.

“I want you to truly live…”

“… Forgive me …”

“Grey,” I whispered into the darkness. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault…”

Maybe our relationship hadn’t been healthy, but Grey had truly loved me.

He loved me the only way he knew how.

I missed that love. The great, vast emptiness in my soul suddenly flared to life, throbbing, pounding with hurt. I’d never felt so alone. The hollowness was echoing. The dark was pressing in. Every time I shut my eyes I pictured Grey alone in his room that night. Had he been scared? Had he cried? Or had he steeled himself to that final decision? I saw him in my mind, his handsome brow furrowed with determination as he mixed his last lethal dose of heroin. I saw the drugs on the spoon, the blackness of them. Poor Grey, so alone…

Allison was already sleeping, I could tell from her slow, even breaths. Fretfully, I pushed back my covers and ran to the door. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed…I needed someone. Someone who could comfort me with just the sound of his voice.

I wiped frantically at the tears on my cheeks, allowing myself a breathy sob in the relative privacy of the hallway. I snuck down the darkened corridor as lithely as I could, aiming for the shadows of the communal phone booth by the game room. Everything was so hushed, so quiet. I was afraid to make even the slightest noise.

I reached the phone and pounded in the number. I didn’t need to see to know which buttons to push; I’d used them almost every day for years.

On the fifth ring, he answered.

“Hello?” His voice was deep, raspy from sleep.

“Riley?”

“Mackenzie? What’s up, are you okay?” His voice sharpened with concern.

“I don’t know, Ry,” I couldn’t keep the tears out of my voice, “I can’t sleep.”

“How come?”

“…It’s too dark…” I whispered. I couldn’t tell him the real reason. I made up my mind at that moment, never to tell anyone the real reason for Grey’s death. It’d be our secret. Forever. I wrapped the phone cord through my fingers, holding back a sob.

Grey wanted me to live. He gave up his life so I would. And I could do it, for him.

I could live.

“Riley?” I sniffed.

“Yeah?”

“Will you come visit me tomorrow?”