Sanctuary of Mine (19 page)

Mackenzie

Digestion is a funny thing, and I’m not talking about food either. As time sets in, my mind wanders back to
that
night and I realise something. It’s my fault. My dad is dead because of me. I was the one. I was the one who threw the ball. It left my fingertips and went wide, right on to the street where a bus sucked him up and spat him out. So how do you live with yourself when you feel like you are a murderer? How do carry on when you’ve just killed the one person who means the most to you? I’ll tell you what I do. I punish myself. I starve myself. I torture myself, mentally and physically.

There is not a thing I can do about it either. If even a miniscule amount of happiness, pleasure, or good feeling of any sort starts to creep into my soul, I crush it quick smart, reminding myself that bad people like me don’t deserve happiness.

I don’t return to mine and Levi’s apartment. Friday night comes and goes, but I’m still left alone in my cocoon of decay. I’m sure they’ve called. Bloody hell, the phone was ringing off the hook until I yanked the cord out of the wall in anger. My mobile phone has stayed off, too. There is not a person on this earth who I think deserves to be affected with the misery that bleeds from me. I’m sure even looking at me will have them riddled with my disease of wickedness.

In some part of my brain, I know I should be back doing normal things like going to work and university, but my apathy doesn’t allow me to care enough to even call and explain my absence. Maybe someone already has? Maybe work already fired me and I’m completely oblivious to the fact?
Who knows and who effing cares, Mack.
Thinking of the moniker Tyler uses for me makes me think of him. I know staying away from him is selfish, but I can’t help the destructive path I’m on.

I find meals on my bedside table, but I have no idea how they get there. Between my spaced out daydreaming of what life was like as a kid with my dad, to my self-loathing lectures, I don’t remember seeing either my mum or Jim for days. Not a morsel is touched, though. Soon the ants come crawling for it. I watch in fascination as they walk sideways along the wall, take their fill and then make the trip back. My stomach rumbles, the acid having nothing to burn but the lining of my insides. All my good work in healing myself and my body is going by the wayside, but I don’t care, not even a little bit.

At a point when my hunger is at its greatest and I feel weak from lack of food, I feel my resolve crumbling. Despite my grief, I’m starving. Dragging myself from the safety of my bed, I stick an ear to the door to listen for any sounds of movement in the house. I realise I don’t even know what day it is. There is nothing at all coming back to me, so I assume everyone must be at work. Slowly, I turn the door handle, letting the fresh air of the house to creep in to blend with the horrid stench that lingers in my room. With soundless footsteps I walk down the stairs. The last one creaks mercilessly, making me stop in my tracks with an ear out to any movement in the rest of the house. Not a sound reaches me, so I continue into the kitchen. I open the pantry and spot a packet of Nice biscuits. They’re unopened, so I tear it open, dropping a few in the process. There is only a slight hesitation before I shove one in my mouth and start chewing.

They’re dry, especially since I haven’t had anything to drink since yesterday. The sugar on top immediately sets off my taste buds and I quickly follow the first biscuit with a chaser. Before I know it, I have scoffed half the packet. My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow the chewed up contents. Dropping the packet on the shelf, I dash to the refrigerator like a woman possessed and crack open the milk carton lid, sculling as much of the contents as I can stomach. While I gulp the liquid, it dribbles down the sides of my face making me feel like a glutton. And that is just what I am – a glutton for punishment. Realising I have, in a way, just made myself happy when I am supposed to be on a self-hating mission, I am suddenly consumed by guilt. But that’s not the only reaction my body is having.

The sudden influx of food to stomach is being rejected.
Too much, too soon, idiot.
My gut churns and heat rushes to my cheeks. I know what’s coming. Been there, done that. As quick as I can, I hurry to the downstairs toilet and fling back the lid. The milk has barely had time to settle in my stomach so that it’s still cold when it comes up. Retching into the toilet makes me feel a little better physically, but I am utterly disgusted with myself. I promised Tyler. I promised I wouldn’t do this anymore.

Sobbing uncontrollably, I hurry up the stairs and slam my bedroom door with such force my window shakes in its frame. I dive under the covers, needing my sanctuary more than ever. I stay like this until I am still, worn out from every single emotion that seems to want to consume me. Eventually I fall asleep, only waking when I hear raised voices downstairs. Shouts can be heard, before footsteps thump their way up the stairs to the landing. Someone heavy strides down the hallway, into the bathroom I think, but can’t be certain.

My heart is beating a hundred miles a minute, making me feel a little panicky and breathless. I sit up, pulling my covers to my chest, straining to hear what is going on in the house. I’m distractedly aware that my unwashed lank hair is clinging to my face like a mad woman and my breath still smells like vomit. The footsteps are coming back, but the shouting has stopped for the minute. I’m erect and alert when my bedroom door bursts open, slamming against the drywall behind it. I’m sure I look like a wild-eyed possum who has just being sprung raiding the fruit orchid, but there is no hiding my surprise at the six foot three figure who has just decided to come and crash my pity party.

Tyler Redding looks madder than a hippo with a hernia, which is a bit of a pain in the arse when his sights are set firmly on me.

Tyler

I’m fucked up. I can’t sleep and my head’s not in the game. Twice coach has had to pull me up on the fact that I’m just not giving the team my all, but it’s all I can handle right now. This feeling of disjointedness comes from not having had any physical or emotional contact with Mack since her dad died. The loneliness in my heart is wearing me down and I can’t seem to focus on any one thing for long.

My thoughts keep drifting back to that night, replaying the events over and over again until I think I don’t know what really happened anymore. They say it was an accident, which is all well and dandy, but it doesn’t stop the incessant chatter in my fucking head that keeps telling me it’s my fault he died. It was my game, my childish antics, my fault. It weighs heavily on my mind; does Mackenzie blame me too? Maybe that is why she’s been avoiding me. Maybe, just maybe, she never wants to see me again. I swallow hard. That thought doesn’t sit well with me either. If she can’t forgive me then there’s no hope for any kind of future with her. I know it was an accident, but that doesn’t count for shit when she’s lost her dad.

She never returned to her apartment. I went, but she wasn’t there. Too much time has passed and now I’m starting to think that if I don’t do something, she may drift away for good. But I can’t let that happen. Too much has passed between us to just let her slip through my fingers. I need her, I want her, and she’s woven herself so intricately into my heart that without her I’m finding it hard to breathe. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve started to wonder if I’m having panic attacks, or if it is just a physical reaction I’m having from not knowing if we are okay – if
she’s
okay.

Every bit of my body is jumping, which probably has something to do with the fact I’ve consumed far too much coffee today as I pace back and forth in the living room of my house. Indecision has me restless, but I know I need to come to some conclusion about what I need to do. Something tells me I’m going to have a fight on my hands if I push Mack to see me, but hell, I’m willing to do it. Her self-imposed retreat from society has me worried and I can only imagine the depths of despair she has sunk to. I wonder absently if she’s returned to her apartment and decide there is only one way to find out. I’m heading over there.

The drive isn’t far. Adrenalin is pumping through my veins, with confrontation clearly motivation for allowing myself to get so worked up. No matter what anyone says, I’m not leaving until I see Mackenzie for myself. And get some answers. And hold her. And tell her that I love her, and that I’m sorry – sorry for everything.

When I pull up to the apartment block, I can see the lights on in the windows above the fish and chips’ shop, so I know that someone is home. Heading towards the stairs, my path is suddenly blocked by a biker looking type with old tattoos that have aged so much the ink looks like it’s running down his skin. I move to step around him, but he shadow-steps to block me again. If this guy’s looking for a fight, he’s picked the wrong day and the wrong guy to antagonize. Today, I bloody well think I could kick his arse and his friends too. They’re not interested, though, instead sitting quietly at a table out the front of the takeaway store, paying no attention to us whatsoever.

‘Problem?’ I snap.

‘Nah man, I was just wondering – you’re Tyler Redding, right?’ He seems a little embarrassed, which has me confused no end.

‘Yeah,’ I reply warily, already scrunching my knuckles together in a closed fist, ready to punch this guy’s nose in at the first sign of trouble.

‘Oh good, ‘cause you look a little different in person. I saw your debut game with the Bunnies this year, great game by the way. Anyway, I’m rambling now, but I was just wondering if I could have your autograph, mate?’ He’s extending a piece of paper and a pen towards me. Well, there’s a curveball I wasn’t expecting.

‘Ah, sure.’

‘Much appreciated, Tyler.’ I quickly scrawl a signature and hand him back the pen and paper. He looks it over and smiles widely, his fat cheeks lifting the sides of his grey scraggly beard.

‘No worries.’ I leave my first ever fan to his friends and head upstairs while the going is good.

I bang loudly on the door, distinctly aware of the television on in the background. When nobody answers, I bang even louder. Waiting on the balcony is not great for staying invisible. I’m starting to gain attention from all the foot traffic passing by on the street. I’m starting to get mad that I’m being blown off by friends and my girlfriend while I’m left hanging outside. There is a split-second I contemplate kicking the damn door in, but just as I raise my foot to do so, the front door quickly swings open, a whoosh of air dancing about my head from the force of it. Levi looks startled standing there in nothing but a towel and dripping wet hair. I can’t help but notice his six-pack, but purely because he was such a chubby teen. I’m no
homosexual, but I can’t help but notice there is absolutely no sign of the comfort eater in front of me now.

‘Jesus, Tyler! What the hell are you doing man? You just about broke the door down.’

‘Well I wouldn’t have had to if you’d just opened the damn door,’ I snarl, pushing past him and letting myself in.

‘I was in the shower. I didn’t even hear you until just now!’ I’m not listening to a word he says, instead scouring each room in turn, checking to see if Mack is in there. It’s not a big place, so when I’m satisfied that she’s not here, I turn on Levi, my rage simmering just below the surface. My un-expelled adrenalin is threatening to take over me, my limbs starting to shake just a little from unspent energy.

‘Where is she?’

‘She’s not here.’

‘I can see that. So where is she?’

‘I’m not the enemy here
, Tyler. Her parents have asked we give her space, so we’re trying to do that.’

‘Like hell. All they’re doing is allowing her to wallow in her misery. That’s not going to do her any good and you know it.’

‘Maybe, but I’m trying to respect their wishes.’

‘Bullshit. You just don’t have the balls to go over there and pull her out of it.’ I see my insult has clearly cut Levi to the core. It was wrong of me to insult him so much, especially when we all know he loves her like family. The muscles in his jaw start to tick, his supressed anger
bubbling just a little. Now I’m the arsehole.

‘Look, I’m sorry. I had no right to say that, I’m just … frustrated! It’s fucking killing me that we’re being shut out and I can’t take it anymore. I need to see her
, man, and I don’t think she should be left alone right now. I don’t give a shit what her parents say, there is no way this is good for her.’

‘I agree completely.’

‘So what are we going to do about it?’

‘We’re going to go and save her from herself.’

‘Right. I’ll drive,’ I say, leaving Levi to hurry and get some clothes on.

****

By the time we reach Mack’s parents’ place, the sun has dipped behind all the houses, leaving the street looking lonely and desolate. I swing the car into the driveway and barely have the handbrake on before leaping out of the car. Levi is hot on my heels, eager to see his friend too. I ring the doorbell until it is answered by her mother. She looks tired and worn down, like life has handed her too many stresses which has prematurely aged her. There was a pretty girl there once, but those features faded long ago. She’s not entirely surprised to see us.

‘Hello Tyler … Levi.’

‘Is Mackenzie home?’ There are no pleasantries from me. I’m way too anxious to be civil. Until I see Mack, I can’t function as a normal, polite person. There is hesitation that hoods her eyes.

‘She is, but I think she needs time to grieve. She was very close to her father, as you both know.’

‘You’re not helping her by letting her wallow. She’s done enough of that. I’m going up to see her,’ I say, pushing my way past her.

‘Tyler,’ she gasps, shocked that I’m rude enough to force my way into her own home.

‘No! This is enough! She needs help – friends! She needs to know that we are here to help her get through this!’ Levi quietly follows me up the stairs while I continue to rant. Her mother watches on, unable to do anything about our intrusion. She knows I mean business.

At the top of the landing, I can see Mackenzie’s door is closed. Leaving Levi there as sentry, I stomp down the hallway toward the bathroom. I run a bath and add some of the fragrant liquid soap that’s sitting on the shelf. It froths and foams as the bath fills to the brim. When it’s done, I shut the taps off and head back to where Levi is waiting. We acknowledge each other silently, both afraid of what we’ll find on the other side of the door. There is only one way to do this and I’m sure as hell going to do it. With a lot of force I push open her bedroom door so it bangs against the wall behind it.

My eyes find hers, but she’s not the
woman I remember. She looks half-crazed, distant and … dirty. Right now she could quite easily pass for a meth addict, although the positive in this situation is that she doesn’t have the nasty scabs that users have. My presence registers on her face, and with it, her resistance. She knows I mean business, which seems to scare her almost. Mackenzie seems afraid – and damn well she should be. Because there is no way I’m letting the woman I love succumb to her demons.

With Levi looking on, I stride towards her bed, my intention to pick her up quite clear.

‘No, no, no, no no!’ She’s yelling and making a feeble attempt to swat my arms away from wrapping around her. Her lack of energy is a clear sign she’s not eaten much, if anything, since she’s been holed up in this room. Despite her objections, I soon have her tucked firmly against my body, her sobbing pitiful to my ears, but heart-wrenching nonetheless.

Within seconds I have her in the bathroom and dump her fully clothed into the tub. Her misery is soon replaced with anger.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ she screams at me.

‘Saving you from yourself,’ I snap, crossing my arms across my chest as though the act will suffice as a first line of defence against the onslaught that is about to ensue.

‘That’s not your call to make Tyler!’

‘Oh yes it is. You’re mine, I’m yours. Whether you like it or not that doesn’t change just because Chris died.’

‘Don’t you dare, don’t you dare say his name!’ She puts her hand over her ears and shakes her head, as though the mere mention of her dad’s name is a torture too much to bear. I grab her wrists and pull them down into the tub, sploshing water all over the floor and on my shoes.

‘Stop it! You are not going to pretend like this didn’t happen. You are not going to wallow in misery. And do you know why? Because your dad wouldn’t want th
at for you. Fuck, I don’t want that for you. I love you, Mack.’

‘Love me? Like a Mack truck? That’s what you say, isn’t it, that I floor you like a Mack truck? Kind of isn’t so cute anymore, in light of recent events, is it? She’s struggling to control her emotions and it’s killing me that I can’t take her pain away. I want to, so, so badly.

‘You’re right, and I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you will always be Mack to me. But, how about you floor me like … like, an elephant tripping in high heels,’ I deadpan. Her eyes spark just a little and there is the smallest of twinges at the corner of her mouth.

‘Like an elephant tripping in high heels? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?’ she whispers.

‘Yes, yes I do, but I’m here and I’m going to help you get through this, no matter what it takes.’

‘You can’t save me Tyler, I told you that before. I’m damaged. I’m wicked … I … it’s my fault he’s dead!’ The sob that escapes her throat pulls on my heartstrings. Her soaking-wet, dishevelled appearance only makes the dark circles under her eyes seem all the more pronounced.

Dropping to my knees, I cup her face in my hands, the material from my pants soaking up the water on the bathroom floor.

‘Baby, baby, baby – that’s just not true! If anything, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry Mackenzie, please forgive me. Forgive me for playing such a stupid game near the road. Forgive me for staying away from you for so long. I need you and I think you need me too.’

‘I don’t Tyler. I just want to be left alone. I want … I can’t have what I want.’

‘Mack, there’s nothing that’s going to bring your dad back. You can’t go on living like this. This is the old you. The
you
before you promised me that you’d never do this to yourself again. I love you so much and can’t watch you do this to yourself.’

‘Well then leave!’ Her stale breath hits me. The feral tone that spews from her mouth smacks me straight across the face. Her words sting like a bitch, but I’m trying not to take it personally.

‘You don’t mean that. You love me too, I know you do.’

‘Do I?’ Petulant eyes stare me down. I swallow hard.
Why is she being so damn difficult?

‘Well if you don’t love me, damn well pretend Mackenzie! Because each and every second I’m not with you is like torture for me and I can’t accept that you don’t love me enough to want to let me help you get through this.’ Her expression softens just a little, but it’s enough to let me know I’m making headway. Levi is still standing in the bathroom doorway, the quiet spectator while all our back and forth is going on.