CHAPTER 67
I spent the last five days of rehab trying to remember.
Ever since Allison hummed that “Jumpin’” song and jogged my memory, I’d thought of little else. I could remember bits and pieces—the memory hazy, dim, coming in fits and spurts. Like a skipping CD, my mind went over it and over it.
There had to be something significant about the memory. I just couldn’t think what.
Back then, Riley’s ‘business’ was booming. He’d bought a new car stereo with his profits and picked me up to show it off. I’d laughed at the incongruity—the fancy, shiny faceplate in his metal-pegged, beaten up dashboard.
The salesman had thrown in a new CD for Riley to “really test out the sound.”
It was the Destiny’s Child album, The Writing on the Wall —not our usual jam, but Riley put the CD in for fun, and we’d cruised around to celebrate, killing time before the party that night, smoking weed and cigarettes and passing a mickey of vodka back and forth as we listened.
It wasn’t long before we were totally wasted, laughing uproariously, playing “Say My Name” and “Jumpin’, Jumpin’” on repeat until we’d memorized the words and could perform the songs, complete with actions.
“ Bounce baby, bounce bo-bounce bo-bounce, ” I’d sing, the song blaring.
“ Shake baby, shake sha-shake sha-shake ,” his turn.
“ Twist baby, twist tw-twist, you better dip that thing, that thing …”
I’d been faint with laughter, holding my stomach at gangly Riley twerking in his seat.
I smiled at the memory, remembering how good we were together back then, how much fun we’d had when things were simple and carefree.
Later on that night, we picked up some of our friends and crashed a house party, rowdy and wild, dancing our way through the house, smoking joint after joint and pounding back cheap beer and more vodka.
That’s where my memories started falling apart. I could remember the guy I’d met outside—he was wearing a ratty old top hat and smoking a cigarette. Riley was nowhere to be found (which usually meant he was attending to ‘business’) and I was out there, smoking, looking for him, when that Top Hat guy offered me the pills.
“Quaaludes.” He’d grinned. “So hard to find. It’s your lucky night.”
“What do they do?” I’d asked, taking one from his hand, debating.
“They’ll make you as free as a bird.” He’d promised.
I’d smiled and downed the pill with my beer as Top Hat watched me, grinning.
Riley was pissed. He’d seen the whole exchange, and wasn’t happy with me. “What the fuck, Mac. I can’t leave you alone for a second. Taking pills from random dudes? Use your fucking head.”
“He’s got a top hat on, like a real English gent. A Gov’na!” I’d giggled, lacing my fingers through Riley’s, letting him pull me away. Top Hat wasn’t grinning anymore.
That was it. All I could remember. Everything faded into a blur of noise, and then nothing. Just blackness.
There had to be more. Something my mind was begging me to remember, but no matter how much I thought back, no matter how much I concentrated, the night had been erased from my memory by the Quaalude I’d taken.
I wanted to ask Riley about it, but he was busy getting his life back in order, booking flights, lining up a job out east, enrolling in night courses to make up for all the time he’d lost at school—all the time he’d lost helping me.
Riley was leaving me again.
The thought was daunting. When Riley left the first time, the pain was devastating. Now, there’d be no Grey to cushion the blow of his absence. There’d be no drugs for me to use to hide from the hurt. I’d have to live with it, I’d have to deal with it. Healthily, this time.
I was determined to do it though. To put on a brave face and let him go. After everything he’d done for me, didn’t I owe Riley that much? I may not have Grey to soothe me and I wouldn’t have the drugs to ease the hurt…but I had my faith now. Faith that I was taken care of, that somehow, someway, He’d help me through it.
My friend, my best friend, deserved all the happiness in the world.
Even if that happiness came in Emily form .
The next day, when I opened my eyes, it was all over. I was free. Rehab was done.
I was going home.
All morning, my heart thumped in my chest, and not with excitement. I should’ve been like Allison, jumping off the walls eager at the prospect of going home. I think most people usually were. I wasn’t. I was anything but excited. Terrified, more like.
When once these walls had seemed stifling and claustrophobic, now I would’ve given anything to stay within the safety of their confines, away from the world waiting at the doorstep. It wasn’t to be, though. Riley was coming to take me home, back to my parents. I was anxious about seeing them again, I didn’t know what to expect, how to act, who to be around now.
Nothing made me more nervous than the thought of being out on my own. I was afraid of getting out. Of having a choice. I was afraid I’d choose wrong.
A pit of anxiety gnawed at my stomach. As if taunting me, the craving for heroin flared up inside, like it knew we’d taste fresh air again soon, like it knew nothing but my own willpower would stop me from finding some dope and injecting it straight into my veins. It was testing my strength, trying to make me cave. I prayed fervently that somehow, somewhere, I’d find the will not to give in.
“Hey.” There was a gentle rapping on my door. “Are you decent?”
“Hey, Ry.” I grabbed my makeup off the counter and headed back into my bedroom. The instant I saw him, I smiled. I couldn’t help myself, he just had that affect on me.
Then it hit me. This was it. The last time we’d be together. Riley was getting on a plane that very night, heading back to school. The reminder made me blanche.
“Mac?”
I shook my head and gave him a smile. “Sorry…I was just….”
“Stressing?” He smiled knowingly at me.
I felt my cheeks blush crimson and nodded guiltily. “Yeah. Stupid, right?”
“Not at all. A little fear is good. It shows you want the right things.”
“Does it?”
“I don’t know.” Riley smiled. “Just trying to sound wise.”
“Oh.” I tried to laugh, but it sounded strained. I threw some last-minute things into the suitcase lying open on my bed and zipped it up. It reminded me vaguely of my birthday, when Riley called me out of the blue, and I’d decided, in a panic, to go to him. How desperate I’d been for him.
“You look really pretty today, Mac,” Riley stated suddenly, interrupting my thoughts with his warm, familiar voice. I could feel his eyes on me .
His words were flustering. Secretly, I was glad he’d noticed. I’d actually put some real effort into myself, mostly because I needed something to preoccupy my thoughts, but also because I wanted to look…good for him. Just once, before he left.
My makeup was all done, my face fuller now, my hair shiny again, hanging in curls around my shoulders. My clothes were still a little baggy, but not as loose as they had been. I wore blue jeans, my old black skater shoes, and my blue fireball sweater. It seemed right—comfortable, fitting, an outfit I used to wear all the time before Charlie glammed me up. More…me.
“So, I don’t look as scared as I feel?”
Riley picked up my suitcase and flashed me a grin. “I didn’t say that.”
I laughed and followed him to the doorway. There, I turned and cast one long, last look at my old room—at that chapter of my life, over now.
I sighed and flicked off the light, shutting the door behind me.