In times of deep regret, reflecting on my entire existence on this earth, all the decisions I’ve made both monumental and small, and how they led to me ending up in whatever situation this week, my mind always goes back to the basic laws of social relations physics; Group dynamics, universal gravitation, proximity, inertia, and the general congregation of social ineptitude and stupidity. It’s practically my default at this point.

While uncomfortably lent up against an exposed brick wall, cornered emotionally, mentally and physically, I wished more than anything to be back in my natural state, as I was a week ago; Curled up under my fuzziest of blankets, rewatching Jenifer’s Body, with Alex lying beside me, fumbling around on her phone. If she didn’t know better, Alex would definitely be the type to have wanderlust unironically in their bio. My other friends often joke about how we’re joined at the… well, everything. Heck, I knew her before I had the capacity to think. After all these years, she still puts up with my out-of-pocketness and irritability.
I noticed her smile out of satisfaction.
“What,” I asked, “did you find your shitty manager’s obituary?” 
“Unfortunately, no,” she said, “but check this out!”
She showed me an Instagram post for an after-hours open mic at Urban Arts Cafe, a place Louise, an esoteric, annoyingly twee fine arts student, who Alex follows on Insta and Tumblr, and has a massive crush on, frequents. I know all this from having to speed-scroll through the ass lot of her reblogged poetry whenever I check Alex’s blog. Why exactly she liked her, I couldn’t tell you. Opposites attract, I guess? Louise was everything Alex wasn’t: Curated, decorous, and enigmatic, all because she had the face of an angel.

“It’ll be the perfect chance to give Louise that necklace I got her!”
“But we planned on going to the new bowling alley that night, remember?” I mentioned.
“Oh, yeah. Right,” she said, frowning, her deep brown eyes wide and boring into mine like a puppy. I very much did not want to go, but this is what friends are for.
“But like, we can check it out later. The open mic sounds fun.”
“Yay!” She said, jumping up and excitedly squeezing me.
“But if a drunk guy with a guitar starts playing Wonderwall, I’m leaving.”

“Deal,” she said.
***

 

I’ve always loved Alex’s zest for adventure, but I’ve grown resentful of her impulsivity and density. Like, earlier the night of the event as we boarded the subway, it dawned on me that we were heading to a part of the city we’d never been to before, to meet up with somebody we barely knew, at an evening event, and we had no idea when we would be home. Yeah, that sounds totally safe. At least she had the sense to not go alone.

The bus dropped us off just down the street from the corner of Dufferin Avenue. The early April air was cool and damp. The street lights provided an incandescent glow off the pavement. I’ll admit, in that moment I kinda wished Alex would’ve offered me her jacket, but we were almost at the cafe anyway. 

As we entered, a foreboding sense of dread came over me. Urban Arts was certainly what one would call a hole-in-the-wall cafe. Complete with swirly font menus with options for expensive lattes lining the walls illuminated by bisexual lighting. The dread mostly came from the size of the place or lack thereof. Hell, I’ve been in bigger high school bathrooms. The cafe was filled way over capacity. Everyone exchanged greetings of familiar camaraderie. We didn’t know a single other soul there.

 

“Dude,” I said while nudging Alex, “there’s about a baker's dozen more hipsters in here than I am comfortable with. I don’t think this is really our scene.”
“Come on,” she argued, “I’ve listened to Making Mirrors.” 
“Did you even like it?”
“I mean, Louise thinks it’s good, so I’m sure it’ll grow on me.” 
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, toots.
“What time did you say Louise would be here?” I asked. “I don’t see her anywhere.”
“Relax,” she said. “She’s probably just running a little late. We’ve already come all this way, and the live music will be starting soon. Real indie underground shit, I’m sure you’ll like it.”
I could barely hear Alex over the racket. I couldn’t hear myself think.

 

I squeezed my way to the front counter to order a drink. The guy at the register was easily the biggest dweeb I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m talking elbow patches on his jacket, and not just any nerd goggles, but Weezer nerd goggles. He had the gall to try to sell me artisanal sparkling water. I ordered a seven-dollar lemonade and shuffled back to the brick wall where Alex was standing, trying in vain to make small talk.
“Do you mind sharing the table?” I asked a guy who looked like if Shane from BuzzFeed made organic kombucha.
“No problem,” he said.
“Quite the venue,” I said to him.
“It’s very intimate,” said the man bun. Intimate was certainly the word for it.
So there I was, leaning up against the wall, struggling to preserve my personal bubble, and not becoming the first case of spontaneous human combustion. I regretted wearing my dupe Lita boots, regretted coming here, and deeply regretted not telling Alex what was on my mind the night I naively agreed to tag along.
***

 

The show was about to start. I took a sip of my candy-like lemonade, coating the back of my dry throat. Inside, the air was hot, stale and stuffy. Outside, it reeked of weed. My heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Before I could attempt to escape, another man bun sat down on the floor in front of me. I was trapped. 
The first act was this anti-capitalist acoustic group, which to my surprise, did not completely suck. Other than the brief snapshot that lives in my mind that’s also captured on my phone, most of the night feels like a fever dream now. We stayed for a few hours, acts ranging from decent to downright anarchist caterwauling about nothing.
It wasn’t until the third act finished their set that Louise finally showed up, gliding through the crowd and greeted like a princess.

“Louise, Hi!” called Alex.
“Oh, hey,” she said.
“I brought you this,” said Alex, handing Louise the beaded Forever 21 necklace.
“Oh, did you make it?” she asked.
“Oh, no…” Alex said meekly. They both went quiet until one of Louise’s friends caught her attention and drifted back into the crowd, finding a seat, fitting right in like a puzzle piece. 
Alex slumped back against the wall.
“I am a fraud,” she said, head in her hands.
Moments later, Louise took the stage, pretentious poems in hand.
“Love is blinding like the sun,” she began. 
I wanted to punch the wall so hard my knuckles bled. This bitch didn’t know the first thing about love. Sure, Alex gave her a piece of mass-produced, earth-destroying plastic. But she neglected to utter so much as a ‘thank you’ to the sweetest girl alive.
Delirious and defeated, Alex placed her head on my shoulder. 
“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing her hand and leaving without protest.
***

 

We hopped on the next bus that went by. I didn’t know where it was going, nor did I care. Alex was silent the whole ride. We got off near a convenience store and went in to buy some snacks. I was thankful for the comforting scent of stale pizza and hum from the refrigerators. I got pop and chips, while Alex got a few candy bars. We sat on a parking curb out front. The white light from inside made the slight drizzle of rain look like snow. Alex was still unusually quiet, slouched over, elbows resting on her knees.
“Here, drink this,” I said, handing her some orange soda.
“Thank you,” she murmured, “I’m sorry I made you stay. You seemed unwell back there. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Apology accepted, jackass,” I scoffed.
“No really! I know this was a dumb idea-”
“Hey, no! It takes a lot of guts to do something like that. You’re a ballsy person… That’s why I like you.”
Shit.

My face went hot. I took a big gulp of my cola. The parking lot fell quiet as if the rain was anticipating Alex’s reaction. I thought back to the laws of social relations physics, specifically group dynamics and inertia. I thought about how effortlessly Louise was able to exist in that room full of phonies, and my stubborn insistence to not say anything that would provoke change between Alex and me. I mean, one doesn't just spring all of this feelings crap on their best friend, especially when we’ve known eachother for so long.
Alex smiled back at me. The wind blew like it let out a sigh of relief, making me shiver.  
Alex threw her jacket around me.
I pecked her cheek.
I’m not sure how she took it, but at least I did it this time.

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