What Friday Nights Are For

Are you coming tonight? 

The text glared at me through my lock screen, itching for a response. Probably one of the worst questions to ask someone, in my opinion. It falls right at the top of the worst offenders list, along with "Do I know you from somewhere?". 

Because let's be honest, if I haven't confirmed that I'm coming by the night of the event, you should know that I'm not. 

And if you have to ask me if you know me from somewhere, it's clear that you don't. 

As with every unnecessary question my answer is the same: "No, I don't think so, sorry!". 

Friday nights are for casting aside your work heels, sliding into your teddy bear onesie, and binging missed episodes of trash TV. Mickey Mouse and I had a date with a new drama series, and we were dying to get stuck in. Between the soft whirring of my dingy kettle and the slow humming of my projector fan, there was no place I could imagine myself being then right here. Positioning myself carefully on the sofa with the remote in one hand, my mug with green tea in the other, and Mickey placed firmly in between my legs, I put on the first episode.  

Thirty minutes in, and my phone lit up. The ridiculous chime half scared me to death, causing me to scald both my leg and Mickey's head. If I made the decision not to answer the phone, I ran the risk of being ostracised. I scratched my head in desperation - watching each moment pass faster than the last. 

Just answer it, Tobi, do you want to keep your friends or not?

"Hello?" 

"Tobi, thank God! I was starting to think I'd have to drive over to your apartment. Listen, I know you said that you weren't coming, but I want you to reconsider."

"Milena, look, I'm so tired tonight. Plus, you know how I get when I'm watching my shows. Miranda's about to find out her husband's been cheating on her!" 

I knew Milena was rolling her eyes into her head.

"Tobi, it's been forever since you, Vic and I, all went out together. Four years of university just for us to never see each other again?" 

Here we go.

"I don't know..."

"Please, Tobi, are you making me beg? I'm just asking for one night out like we used to. You can watch your shows tomorrow."

"I have plans tomorrow." 

A lie. 

She chuckled into the phone. "I know you don't. Look, I won't pressure you anymore. If you are going to come, we'll be meeting in the town centre in two hours. At least think about it, yeah?"

I hung up and groaned. 

Angst rose in my chest as the club website loaded on my screen. The words appeared bold, impossible to miss: "Home of the UK's Wildest Ravers". I sank further into the sofa. I'd go to this place and instantly regret it. But how many times could I decline their requests before I pushed these girls out of my life altogether? It's a lose-lose either way. 

Two hours to get ready, but what does someone almost in her mid-twenties wear to a place filled with eighteen-year-olds? I don't wear short dresses; I prefer not to draw attention to my chest. If I cover up too much, I'd be disgraced by my sweat. Had it always been like this? 

Milena and Victoria never had this problem when we used to go out on the weekends. Thick lashes, long legs and platform heels carried them through every night - while I was slumped in a bathroom stall, heaving my guts out, regretting the many tequila shots slurped down on an empty stomach. I hated the people there, avoided the middle of the dancefloor, and prayed at least one of my friends would see me suffering and book the taxi back home. I've never been a socialite and never will be. I only wish they would understand this when I told them, so I could be left alone. 

*

When we arrived at the entrance of the club, a lump began forming in my throat. The base was pulsating through my feet, to my head - heavy, thumping vibrations causing my body to tremble without command. I almost forgot how that felt. 

The bouncer appeared unbothered, but I knew that's why they hired him. His expression was firm and his stance unwavering. He'd seen it all before, multiple days of the week - drunken brutes ready to fight with him for not letting them in, underaged kids trying to fool their way through. His front had gotten him this far, but I saw through the cracks - his head was pounding, and he wanted to go home. 

He began checking our ID to let us in. His eyes scanned my face with intensity, then to my license and back again. The movement was fleeting, invasive. I couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to see beyond the flesh on my face and rack my brain - deep into my thoughts. 

"Might need to be careful with this picture there babe, you look quite young here - it took me a while to recognise you." 

Don't look embarrassed. 

"I've been using this ID for years, and no one's had a problem with it. Also, don't call me 'babe'. Only my boyfriend can address me that way." I retorted.

"Alright, calm down. Look, you're in now. Just have a nice night."

I was mortified, but I felt sorry for him. If I had a job like his, I'd be somewhat out of it too. 

Once we ventured inside, smoke streamed from the walls surrounding us. The atmosphere was hauntingly familiar. Purple and blue tones streaked across the room, veiling the hot, jostling bodies. The floor was already saturated with overpriced alcohol, causing each of my steps to be accompanied by a squelch. The DJ was placed on his high throne above the crowd, looking down at us and smiling with power. He held the reins over the entire night. At the top of his voice, he yelled into his mic, "Alright, London make some noise!" at which everybody followed his command. I scowled at him as the glitter ball above us shattered and released streams of confetti into my hair. 

Milena lightly tugged my arm and led me up a winding staircase. We had entered the VIP suite. I blew out a sigh of relief, marvelling at the change in ambience. The music below us muted only slightly, but it was enough for me to hear myself think. 

"Cheers to our friendship! 6 years and counting!" Victoria toasted.

"Cheers!"

I relaxed my muscles into the plush seat and threw back my head to down my drink. For a brief time, I had completely forgotten about how much I hated going out. I was fully present (and very nearly sober). Looking through the lens of my wild friends, I began to understand how enticing the thrill of the night could be. 

*

Milena had tried ringing Victoria three times now. We had gone two hours into the night, and Vic had left for the bathroom close to an hour ago. 

"We're bad friends! It shouldn't take any more than five minutes to use the bathroom."

"Relax, Mil, she's probably just caught up dancing or something."

"And if she was out dancing, why wouldn't she come and get us! You said the same thing to me half an hour ago."

"Exactly, because I know Vic."

"And I don't?" She huffed.

She gestured for me to move out of the way and hurried down the stairs - while I quickly neglected the delusion that I could enjoy a night at the club.

We had thrust ourselves into a pit. The air was warm, muggy, repulsive; I found myself stifling multiple gags. Milena shoved her way past the other club-goers, with me attempting to trail closely behind, shouting "excuse me" and "sorry" every two seconds. Victoria was nowhere in sight. 

"I'm going to try around the back," Milena called out. "Stay here and text me if you spot her."

Panic sprang on me as she disappeared further into the crowd. My eyes surveyed the room, desperate for a starting point, but my efforts were interrupted. 

"Alright now, this next song is for the ladies," the DJ's voice boomed. Some of the women started screaming, dragging their friends forward. Men who had failed to make an appearance on the floor suddenly emerged from the shadows, eager to find a lady willing to dance with them. 

I gazed in horror at how quickly the scene shifted. I was squashed between gyrating bodies and extremely out of my depth. In my futile attempt to escape to the bar, I found my face crashing into someone's chest - followed by their tepid concoction trickling down my front. 

"Watch where you're going, gosh!" I yelled, franticly covering my bust. He was dazed, drifting between different states of consciousness. The aroma that emanated from him fuelled my distaste - his breath heavily laced with what I feared was whiskey. 

"I'm sorry," he started, placing a grubby hand on my shoulder. He paused. "Hey, do I know you from somewhere?"

Argh!

I'd had enough. The only thing I could face was the graffitied door of the bathroom stall. I threw the toilet lid down and slumped on top of it, furiously dabbing at my top to salvage whatever I could. My grandma used to nag me for frowning so much - said it'd be the reason why my forehead would wrinkle up before its time. Tonight alone would be enough to do just that. 

After wiping myself down, I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes. Exhaustion had always been a snare. It weaved in and out of my life, and often it won over me. I assumed that majority of the adult human population suffered a similar fate. So how they could find themselves in a place like this time and again was beyond me. How could one recharge on a night like this?  

A text alert brought me out of my thoughts.

I've found Victoria! She was out the back with some guy. Meet me at the bar, and I'll call the taxi. 

It was the best news I'd heard this week! 

Relief carried my steps as I sped back into the main room. The crowd was rowdier than before, drunk people excelling at unanimously reciting some stupid song. They were leaping and spraying each other with their bottles. I scrunched up my face in disgust but quickly let my judgement slide. I was ready to go home, back to my sofa, a new cup of tea, and my Mickey. 

But as I began to move into the centre of the floor, a sharp tug snapped back my neck. A strangled yelp rose from my throat as my hair almost ripped from my scalp. 

Before I could even understand what was happening, I had slammed onto the floor. 

And my arm was at the mercy of countless stomping feet.

*

Milena was waiting for me outside the hospital with a box of my favourite Thorntons chocolate selection. Thankfully, the time spent there gave me the chance to cool down and not cast any blame on her. I currently had only one arm in action and was very much in need of her until my boyfriend could come to attend to me.

Neither of us spoke during the drive. I gazed apathetically out of the window at the world speeding around us. Milena fidgeted, tapping her free hand on her lap at every red light or opening her mouth, hoping to squeeze a word out but only mustering a sigh. When we arrived at my apartment, she grabbed my free hand. 

"Tobi, I'm so sorry all of this happened."

"Please don't." I started. "It wasn't your fault - it was mine. I should have just stayed at home. I hate the club so much, and any crazy parties for that matter. I like to spend my Fridays doing nothing at home. But I didn't want the case that we'd begin to drift apart because I appeared not to be interested in spending time with you guys." 

"I always ask you out whenever I can because I wouldn't want you to think we didn't want to spend time with you when we could," Milena said. "Even if you did lose interest in us, I'd do everything possible to change that. You know I could never be done with you, right?"

I smiled. 

"Yeah, I know." 

I fumbled about with my keys to let me into the flat while Milena went to find a parking space. Sighing, I gently lowered myself into the same place I had been seated with Mickey by my side. I made a note that, thanks to the tea stain, I'd have to figure out how to wash him. Picking him up with my free hand, I lay him on my lap.

"Ah, Mickey, if only I had spent Friday night with you instead."