Life of the Party (42 page)

“I’m glad you
did. He deserved it.” I sighed. “And, Grey … I’m sorry about my
parents. I had no idea they’d be so … horrible.”

Grey shrugged.
“Whatever, it’s fine. I didn’t expect them to welcome me with open
arms or anything.”

“Why not?” I
frowned. “You deserve that much.”

“Because
Mackenzie,” Grey smirked at me again, like I was missing something
obvious. “Look at me. I’ve got nothing. I’m a twenty-one year old
cook; I’ve got no house, no education … nothing but my guitar and
some lyrics and this crazy hope of making it big. I’m not exactly
the guy parents dream about for their daughter.”

“But that’s not
fair.” My frown deepened. “To just judge the outside stuff, the
stuff that doesn’t even matter … it’s so stupid. If they gave you
an actual chance and really got to know you, I know they’d love you
… just as much as I do.”

“I doubt that.”
He shook his head. “You’re blind, Mackenzie. I mean, you think I’m
this amazing guy, but I’m really not. I’m a loser, a total
screw-up. Everyone can see it but you.”

“Grey,” I was
appalled. “You are not a loser. I will never forgive them for
making you feel that way.”

“Everyone in
that room was thinking the exact same thing when they saw us
together. Even I’ve been thinking it.” He looked down at me then,
his smirk fading seriously. “You could do better, you know.”

“Better?” I
repeated, as if trying to make sense of the word. “How could I do
better?” I sat up slightly so he could see the sincerity in my
expression. “Who else would leave the studio … their dream … just
to be with me for a weekend? You … you take care of me; tonight you
gave me your coat and went without, just so I wouldn’t get cold.
And you cared enough to wait for sex until I was really, truly
ready. Who else would do that?” My voice was soft, earnest. “Grey,
trust me, there is no one better for me than you.”

His arms
tightened around me, his blue eyes were soft and tender as he
looked down into my face. “I’ll try. I’ll try to be the best for
you.” He promised. “It’s hard though … sometimes … I mean, you are
so trusting, and you look at me with such … pride, like I’m this
dream come true or something. I know it’s only a matter of time
before I do screw up, before I do something to really hurt you …
and I can’t … I can’t bear the thought. You think too highly of me,
and I’m only going to disappoint you.”

I didn’t know
what to say. I couldn’t picture any situation that would make me
love Grey any less. Even if he had cheated on me, I would be hurt,
yes; I’d be heartbroken, yes; but I wouldn’t love him any less. I
didn’t know how to convince him that he could never disappoint me,
no matter what, that I would love him no matter what. Silently I
stroked my fingers slowly down his chest.

He sighed.
“Maybe I don’t have to worry. One day you’re going to figure out
how beautiful you are, and then I’ll be out of the picture for
good.” Grey shrugged. “It’ll be better that way. I’m too selfish to
let you go.”

I wanted to
argue with him, I sat up to protest, but he stopped me with a shake
of his head. A smirk bent his lips as he looked at me, and his blue
eyes began to gleam wickedly.

“Until then …,”
he pulled me up to him, his strong arms wrapping around me and
holding me close. “I’m going to enjoy every minute.”

My smile was
glorious as he kissed me.

We awoke the
next morning wrapped up in each other and stayed that way for the
remainder of the day. The rest of the house was dark and quiet and
empty, but in Grey’s room the lights were on, the music blaring, a
party taking place on his bed. We didn’t leave it for anything but
to answer the door for food delivery. We smoked and got high and
did coke and laughed and talked and kissed and made love between
the rumpled sheets. It was going down in history as one of the
happiest days of my life.

I wore his
white button-down shirt, I’d always seen women do it in the movies
and now I could see the attraction. It smelt delicious and I loved
having something he wore so close to my own skin. Grey lounged in
just his boxers, allowing my eyes to feast on his perfect muscular
body as we lazed around.

We talked about
everything. Simple things like our favourite color and food, TV
shows and movies and bands … every new tidbit of information we
learned seemed more interesting than the last. Hours went by, our
tongues fuelled by cocaine, driven by sheer curiosity and utter
fascination. I couldn’t get enough of him, I couldn’t learn
enough—I hung on his every word, asking question after
question.

He told me
things about his childhood that I hadn’t known before. I learned a
little about the friends he’d lost touch with and the crazy BMX
jumps they used to make, how he broke the same arm on three
separate occasions taking those very same jumps. He was an only
child and they had lived in the poorer end of the city. He got a
paper route and saved up the money he made to purchase his very own
Yamaha acoustic guitar from the Sears magazine when he was only
seven.

“So, what about
your parents?” I wondered carefully. He always failed to mention
them; their names hadn’t come up once in all his tales, so I could
tell it was a sensitive subject. “What do they do?”

I was sitting
cross-legged on the bed, leaning up against the wall, Grey’s white
shirt draped over my petite frame as he lay on his side, facing me,
his legs tangled up in the blankets. He avoided my gaze a moment,
taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke slowly from
his mouth.

“I don’t know
where my parents are.” He admitted reluctantly, with a shrug.

“Not at all?”
My dark eyes were wide with wonder.

“No. I’ve never
known my dad; I don’t think he was ever around. My mom left when I
was young. I haven’t heard from her since.”

I bit my lip in
empathy, surprised by this new information. “Where did you go …
when she left?”

“I stayed with
my Grandma,” Grey sighed heavily, like the topic weighed on him.
“She was fifty-eight when she took me in, but a far better mother
than my mom ever was, from what I can remember.”

“Is your
grandma still in the city?” I smiled in an effort to lighten the
conversation.

“No.” He
grimaced. “She died when I was sixteen.”

“Oh.” I didn’t
know what to say. “I’m so sorry, Grey. That’s awful.”

Grey shrugged
again. “I didn’t have any other family to live with, so I bounced
around the system for awhile. I never stayed in a foster home for
more than a few months. I dropped out of high school about the same
time, and as soon as I was old enough I moved out here with
Alex.”

“But, you
didn’t have anyone, at all?” I was horrified by the thought. My
family sucked most of the time, but at least I knew they were
there. If I did happen to lose my mom and dad, there was always an
Auntie Linda and an Uncle Paul, and an Uncle Pat, and a Marcy … I
always knew I’d be taken care of by someone. Grey had been so young
when he lost his only family, he must have felt so … utterly
scared, and alone. My heart broke for him at the thought, stirred
by compassion.

“I did okay. It
wasn’t that bad.” His coolness almost had me convinced. If I didn’t
know him as well as I did, I would’ve missed the slight sadness in
his eyes, the tightness in his voice. He was more affected by the
past than he let on, but I was willing to let the issue go, for
now. He’d already told me so much, and I could tell it’d been hard
for him to do so.

I smiled
shrewdly and looked for a subject change. “So … what are all
those?” I asked then, pointing randomly towards the stacks of
crumpled loose-leaf piled and littered upon the desk in the corner
of the room. Grey looked up at me in surprise, relieved by the
sudden change in topic.

“Paper.” Grey
smirked, and I could see him relaxing. “No. It’s music.”

“Music?”

“Yes. Music.”
He sighed fondly at me. “Some lyrics, some melody lines, just stuff
I’ve written as it comes to me.”

“You wrote all
that?” I was amazed. “Can I read them?”

“Uhhhh …,” Grey
hesitated, “… I don’t know.”

“Why not? I
won’t laugh, I promise.”

“I know you
won’t, but ….” He ran a hand through his messy dark hair. “See, I
find it hard to … express … myself sometimes. Maybe you’ve
noticed.” He chuckled. I nodded; I knew exactly what he was talking
about. “But, it’s different with music.” He explained. “It’s like
the one place that I can just … be free, you know? I write anything
that comes to my head. And some of it’s … pretty embarrassing.”

“Now I want to
read them even more.” I pouted.

“Maybe another
time, okay?” It was his turn to change the subject. “So, speaking
of music … what’s your favourite song, Mackenzie?”

I relented
begrudgingly. “Like … ever in the world?”

“Yeah.”

“Um ….” I
giggled. “My all time favourite song is probably …
Name
, by
the Goo Goo Dolls.” I shrugged sheepishly.

Grey just
grinned at me a moment. “You’re serious?” His smile widened.

“Yes!” I
laughed in defence. “And there is nothing wrong with that song.
It’s beautiful.”

“Of all the
songs in the world, your favourite is
Name,
by the Goo Goo
Dolls.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t
believe it.” Grey chuckled, and then he picked up his acoustic
guitar. I watched in disbelief as moments later, the sweet,
haunting chords of my favourite song were floating in the air, his
fingers deftly strumming the notes. He sang to me with his
beautiful voice.

I blinked back
sudden, happy tears as Grey sang the song, his voice soft and
raspy, touching my very heart. His blue eyes smiled at me as he
played, seeming to enjoy my reaction to his tune. I couldn’t even
help myself … he just … moved me.

“This is one of
the first songs I ever learned.” He explained over the music.

“You play so
beautifully.” I shook my head in admiration. I had never met anyone
so talented in all my life. His dreams of making it big weren’t
crazy; they were inevitable. Grey finished the song, strumming out
the last note so that it rang in the air.

“I love you.”
It was nearly bursting out of me; I just had to say it.

“What can I
say?” he smirked. “The Goo Goo Dolls, they do it every time.”

I didn’t want
to sleep that night. I knew we had only a few precious hours left
before he had to leave, and I didn’t want to waste them with
unconsciousness. Grey chuckled at me, cuddled up together beneath
the blankets, his lips to my ear.

“Go to sleep,
Mackenzie.” He nuzzled, his voice low and drowsy.

“I can’t …
sleep ….” My eyelids were so heavy; I struggled to keep them open.
“It’s like the Aerosmith song … I don’t want to close … my eyes …
‘cause I don’t … want to … miss a thing ….”

When I awoke,
it was dark outside but the moon was bright, flooding his bedroom
with silvery light filtering through the large window beside the
bed. It took me a moment before I realized I was all alone. I
stretched my arm out for Grey, but my hand touched empty mattress.
My eyes flew open and I sat up, instantly panicked that he had left
for the airport already, that I had missed his goodbye and Grey was
gone.

“Hey.” His
voice calmed me. I turned over and found him sitting in a chair
beside the bed. He was dressed and ready to go, but his acoustic
guitar sat on his lap. I smiled, bemused, and sat up in the sheets.
His gorgeous face was barely visible in the moonlight, but I could
see that he was smiling at me.

“I’ve gotta go,
but I just … I wanted to play you something first.”

I smiled my
answer, and waited.

He started
strumming the guitar then, and the rhythm was gentle—not quite a
ballad, but not upbeat either. After the sweet, softly picked
intro, Grey began to sing.

“
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, it’s time for me to go.

I’ve got to
leave Mackenzie lying all alone.”

The chords
changed, the strumming got stronger as he entered the chorus.

“
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 ….”

His voice was
beautiful, silky and rough. I sat on the bed, watching and
listening to him in utter disbelief. Grey had written me a song,
and that would’ve been enough to cause the happy tears that sprang
to my eyes, even if he hadn’t said he loved me. Those affectionate
words rang in my head and echoed in my heart, swollen with
happiness. I smiled at him through my tears.

“That’s all I
have so far.” He shrugged, and his smile was bashful.

“That was the
most beautiful ….” I shook my head, at a loss for words. I gave up
speaking and crawled over the bed to him. I placed my hands gently
on his face, looking up into his eyes shining silvery blue in the
moonlight. Beautiful. “I will miss you, so much. Every minute.” I
whispered. I moved my lips up to his. “I love you.”

He wrapped his
arms around me, tight and warm, pulling me close. And his guitar,
unheeded, slid to the floor with a noisy lurch.

Grey was gone
again. The days resumed themselves much the same as they had
before—Charlie and I got as high as we could, went to work, came
home, got high, and then went to bed to start it all over again the
next morning. The only difference was now I took it much easier, I
didn’t go nearly as hard, and I didn’t go out anymore. Grey called
me every day. Sometimes he was busy and would just say hi,
sometimes he’d have time and we’d spend nearly all night talking on
the phone together. It wasn’t a perfect scenario, but it was the
best it could be, given the circumstances.