Night of Chaos

“I’m late!” Demi screamed into the air, but her words were clearly meant for Nick, whose call was immediately placed on speaker mode as she rummaged through her wardrobe. Nick let out a hearty laugh; they weren’t expecting that kind of greeting.

Nick hadn’t been the type to care about being punctual in a long time … maybe that’s not totally accurate. He just didn’t like adding unnecessary pressure to himself. Life was busy enough. That was, of course, dependent on the situation, and until that moment, it was unclear to Demi where tonight’s dinner with their boss and colleagues registered for Nick on the “Trivial to life-altering scale”.

Everyone on the team could bring a plus one, and it brought tears to Demi’s eyes when she was asked to join. Nick called her their “chosen family”, and their “main source of intimacy”.

For some, Nick’s nonchalance was a character flaw. For Nick, it was both a soothing mechanism and the culmination of years’ worth of unlearning people-pleasing habits. It does cross their mind sometimes that they may be a bit too dismissive when friends and family call them out on their excessive chill, and perhaps too unrestrained by others’ expectations. When they came up, these thoughts were usually entertained, processed, then shrugged away with an “Oh well” muttered by their internal voice.

Taking the laugh as a sign to relax, Demi exhaled, and then launched into a quick rant. “There was a car collision on the I-5 that caused a 20-minute delay. Can you just come over? We’ll head out together?”

“Be right there”.

Demi was typically pretty chill about things, but when it came to situations that impacted others, she would become tangibly more stressed. She never minded flying solo for her weekend plans, but when it came to making decisions for a group, she would much rather go with the flow and let someone else take charge. Maybe that stemmed from growing up with siblings who always had strong opinions about almost everything, and she’d learnt early on to let them curate every situation to their liking.

When they came up, these thoughts were usually entertained, processed, then shrugged away with an “I’ll deal with this later when it really matters” muttered by her internal voice.

“You’re acting a bit more awkward than usual” teased Nick as Demi squirmed uncomfortably next to them in the back of a taxi. She lifted up her top a bit, and pulled down her pants just a little to reveal a red line on her skin right around her waist.

“I was rushing to get dressed. I noticed how wrinkled my top was after I put it on, but I didn’t want to take it off again. So, I ironed it… while I was still wearing it. Now, I can’t slouch without it hurting”.

The taxi driver chuckled before quickly covering it up with a cough.

“We’re here” the driver said, as he pulled up in front of “Waves”, an upscale seafood restaurant downtown.

Demi let out a series of short, pained grunts as she tried to get out of the cab, keeping her back as straight as possible.

“No reservation under Mrs. Bruno”, the host said with a forced apologetic tone. Nick blinked and glanced around. It made sense now that their boss, who had a shellfish allergy, wouldn’t have booked a table at a seafood restaurant. After a quick check of the text chain, they realized the reservation was made at “VVavy”, a Mexican-Italian fusion restaurant uptown. Way uptown.

“Wait, it’s VVay up there!” Nick exclaimed.

“You called the last car,” Demi said. “So I’ll get the next one”.

Nick checked their phone’s GPS app. “We’re not taking a car. It says it would take us 45 minutes at this time! Biking would be faster”.

Demi’s eyes widened. “I’m wearing heels! Absolutely not! It's ridiculous”.

“You’re ridiculous!” Demi shot back as she and Nick were off, weaving in and out of traffic on their city electric scooters.

The night was about to get even more absurd. They zipped past cars, swerving around pedestrians and cyclists, making their way down streets that seemed to be designed specifically for chaos. 

The bike lanes were clogged with cars that were double parked, and for Nick and Demi, being cursed by angry cyclists as they zoomed past them seemed misdirected. “It’s those illegally parked cars you’re really mad at!” shouted Nick. They couldn’t really make out what they were cursing at them, but the frustration was clear from the gestures. At one point, Nick elbowed a parked car, sending the side mirror flying off and landing in front of diners seated outside. Our kitty-heeled street surfer, and her Nick with the helmet hair were navigating an obstacle course fit for an Olympic event, for electric scooter riders, in an urban setting.

“How much farther?” Nick asked, and then tried to answer by pulling their phone from their pants pocket. “I think my phone fell out!”

They stopped.

“Never mind, no time, let’s keep going” decided Nick after checking behind them, and realizing that the phone wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

It was one mess of a night, one of those nights that make you wonder whether you were just better off never leaving the house today.

Nick’s mind was racing as they continued their wild ride. The buzzing thoughts made them feel like a beach ball being bounced around from one thought to the other. A voyager inside their own head, they started picturing themselves awkwardly joining the dinner table late, their hair a mess, and their shirt clinging on their body from the sweat.

Nick’s mind was a boat being rocked by waves of anxiety, and lost deep in thought, they zoomed through a stop sign. Everything stopped for a second, the waves receded and were replaced by nothing. Quiet nothing.

“You’ll be alright”, Demi’s voice brought a small reassurance, but just as it settled, it got drowned out by wailing sirens. One second, they were racing to a restaurant, and the next, they were on a gurney, with an EMT shining a light in their eyes.

“Ugh, this is gonna cost me $4000”, Nick groaned, rolling their eyes and throwing an arm across their face.