Life of Max ✔️

Thirty-three

MAX

Life is unpredictable. Even when it is supposed to be predictable. My dad was supposed to die from the sickness he had, that he also passed on to me, but he didn't.

His liver suddenly gave in due to his previous lifestyle.

The first thing I thought when they explained it to me, like I was a fucking child, may I add, was that it was way too coincidental that he died of liver failure the very night I was really close to an overdose.

I was fine after about six hours hooked up to a bag full of some clear liquid, but I think they exaggerated my state. If I was that close, they would have pumped my stomach, right?

The doctors never even thought to look at his liver when he came in, because the hospital in France said they had checked him thoroughly. I guess they didn't, unless they forgot a page in his records or something, when they sent him over.

Churches aren't really my thing. I curse too much, and I don't really believe in God. I don't know what's up there, honestly. Still, I'm sitting in the front row in the very church my parents got married in, where they took me as a child, until dad left us.

The difference between him and me, however, is that I know that I won't be ruining anyone else's lives by drinking excessively or doing drugs. He knew he had people who cared about him, but I don't. Not anymore. He cared, to some extent, but not enough. Grandma cares, of course, but she'll be long gone before I get the first symptom, I'm guessing. The only other person who cares is my mom, but I don't think she cares that much. I think she's trying to have another baby, too. She hasn't said anything, but I've caught her looking at baby-stuff on her phone this past week.

I stayed with her. I would rather have stayed with grandma, but mom insisted.

I'm wearing a fucking suit, too. And a tie. A black tie to go with my otherwise black suit. My shoes are shiny, and I really want to substitute my the dress jacket for my leather one, but I guess that's disrespectful. Not to wear the proper attire, I mean.

I turn my head a little, to look at the people in here. I can see my friends a few rows back. Brad is sitting by the aisle, and he waves at me when he meets my eyes. He doesn't look too bad, except for the fact that he should be knocked down a few. His ego is way taller than he is right now. If I were him I'd try to play this card tonight, at some bar. Bring the program and let some hot girl take care of him while he's grieving his best friend's dad. I'd happily encourage that.

Josie is sitting next to Brad, with Grayson's arm draped around her. They're whispering something, and I guess they're doing good again now. They look happier, at least.

Then there's Ives. The one that got away? I don't know what to call her, honestly. She's sitting next to Dean, holding his hand, and talking quietly. I still think she's really beautiful, but the way she smiles when Dean looks at her in that way is telling me everything I need to know. I've known it since I got back from Paris, of course, but I'm constantly reminded that I'm not enough for her. Or anyone. Especially not Haley.

Fuck.

My eyes flicker away the second they meet with Haley's. She looks gorgeous. I've never seen her look so good before. She is wearing a dress, and my stupid mind is trying to make me think about how easy it would be for me to rip her panties off and plunge deep into her, hearing her moan my name, and practically scream as I bite down on her shoulder.

Don't think about her like that, idiot.

I didn't think she'd come, yet here she is, with Aiden. Huh, Aiden was there when grandma told me that he had passed away, so I guess he saw how hurt I was.