Page 75 of Life of the Party

“Did you hit your head?” He wondered, opening a door and flicking the light on.

“I don’t think sooo.” I sang. He chuckled and set me down. I nearly fell over, grasping the wall for support.

“Let’s get these shoes off.” Gently, he lifted my knees and pulled off my pumps, one at a time. “That should help your balance a bit if anything will.”

The difference in my height was staggering without my shoes on, and my feet felt strange flat on the floor after being arched all day long.

“Wait, Grey, is this your bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” I looked around in awe. His walls were covered in posters; all of them were rock bands, most of them I had never heard of. Bands like Dream Theatre and Smile Empty Soul, Sepultura and Rage Against the Machine. There were many Tool posters, which I recognized, and Metallica and System of a Down and Sevendust and countless others I didn’t know.

His room was fairly neat, cleaner than mine at home—his closet doors actually shut. A queen-size, unmade bed sat beneath a large, coverless window looking out into thebackyard. I could see the stars through it, twinkling in the night sky. Music equipment, amps and cords and who knows what else were stacked up neatly along the wall. A large desk sat along the back, piled with paper and notebooks and looseleaf covered in Grey’s inky scrawl. An acoustic guitar sat in its stand by the bed.

“Wow. You can tell a lot about a person from their room, you know.”

“Oh yeah? What does mine tell you?” Grey asked, sitting next to me on the bed.

“You love music. And…I’d say you’re a fan of metal?”

“And classic rock, of course.”

“Of course.” I agreed. My hazy gaze rested on his acoustic guitar.

I gasped. “Will you play me something?”

“If you want.” Grey chuckled, picking up the instrument and placing the strap over his shoulders. He sat back down. “What do you want me to play?” He asked, strumming idly as he waited for me to answer.

I drew a complete blank. I loved music of every kind, as long as it was passionate, but for some reason, I couldn’t think of a single song.

“How about this one.” Grey bent over the guitar and began to play. He was impressive. I watched him intently—how his hands seemed to dance over the strings. I was amazed at how quickly they moved. He didn’t even need to look down.

I recognized the song immediately. “Good Riddance”by Green Day. My grad song. Grey strummed the rhythm, his fingers deftly changing chords and picking notes, playing the melody perfectly.

I sat back on the bed, pulled my knees to my chest and listened.

The song was sweetly sad, like graduating was supposed to be, and the haunting, reminiscent notes from the guitar made me feel hollow inside, totally lonely.

The way I felt when Riley left.

I felt it again. How much I missed him, how much I was going to miss him.

How much of a gaping hole he’d left behind.

Memories of Riley flooded my mind then, like my life was flashing before my eyes, like in a car crash or something. Riley and I when we first met, when he’d been shy and reserved, so I’d grabbed his hand and forced him to play with me. The third grade when I peed my pants and Riley lent me his gym shorts so no one would know. Climbing the big hill in our neighbourhood and eating plums at the top. Countless birthdays and Christmases and presents he’d given me. Hitting the ditch last winter, when he’d let me sit in the warm car while he shovelled and pushed us out. Singing and dancing to Destiny’s Child. The hundreds of times we’d gotten wasted together.

I remembered it all, just then, as the lyrics to the Green Day song played in my mind.

“It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right.

I hope you had the time of your life.”

“Hey, hey. You okay?” Abruptly, Grey stopped playing, glancing over with concern.

I nodded. It was hard to talk.

“You’re crying.” He took the guitar off and placed it back in its stand. I wiped the tears from my eyes; I hadn’t realized they were there. “Come here.”

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