It’s already 3am and it doesn’t look like people are planning to go home. I am annoyed, agitated and legit feel like giving someone a piece on how much of an irresponsible adult they are being but hey, I am here too, right? Wasted! My dad is going to kill me today. That much I know. Why did I even agree to this? My stupid ass should just have stayed home and watched a show on Netflix. Yeah, could have saved myself all this drama but what’s the point of what ifs when they won’t change the fact that I am in a screwed up situation. Anywho, I need to find Josh, he must be a mess by now. He was already drunk when we got here and I don’t know how much more alcohol he’s taken. That boy will be the death of me. And it makes matters worse that I have to drive him home, to his parent’s house……and say what? That their sober son got carried away and had a little bit of too much to drink? I’ve seen my dad angry before so I can deal with his fury, but Josh’s parents, they hate me so much I can’t even think what insensitive words they’ll call me today. I hate me right now!!!
“Natasha. Babe come here. Come dance with daddy……….don’t be a bore, loosen up girl life is too short to live it with that serious face you are pulling. One more shot I promise, and we are out of here. I’ll drive you home and then take myself home. And we’ll both have a beautiful night my darling. Come here.”
At this point I feel myself expand in fury, and if I don’t get that boy moving, I’ll burst and regret what I do or say to him. So I storm to the bar and grab him, literally! Being a masculine girl comes pretty handy in moments like this. His bony ass isn’t much of a strain to shove through the crowd dancing away the morning and through that door to the parking lot. Super glad that I parked right outside the exit so I open the back of my car, help a protesting Josh with his seatbelt, and then go round to the driver’s seat. It sounds so orderly when I say it, but the staggering I am on makes me hesitate for a second. Driving in this form may not be a good idea, actually it isn’t. BUT…I’d rather wasted any day than give Josh’s mum another moment to caress her hatred for me. She won’t let this pass. I know her……….I just need to get there and get it over with. Finally I have my seatbelt on and manoeuvre my way out of the underground parking into Julius Nyerere.
“Tash babe, I feel sick…..I am gonna throw up. What’s that thing we ate? I think it messed up my tummy. I need to puke, Tash. Stop the car.”
I swear I am going to kill this boy if he vomits in this car. It’s one thing to explain to my dad how his “well-mannered” first born princess got wasted and showed up in the most disrespectful hours of the morning, but to explain that there was someone in his car, who threw up everywhere, and that the someone is Josh, that I don’t think I am ready to tell my dad. I am spassing a loosely opened bottle of water towards Josh, hoping my eyes look pissed off enough for him to keep that shit inside till I get to his place, but this boy, this boy just doesn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. He literally throws up all over my stretched hand. I am here trying to help this boy save his irresponsible ass and he pukes on me, ungrateful brat! I’ll deal with him when he’s sober. Right now, I need to focus on this last block of flats before I turn into his road. Driving like a maniac, I should have known that a party would be waiting to give us a grand entry. Flash lights and all! I seriously underestimated how screwed I am!!!
“Hayi bo Natasha, what are you doing here eat this time of the morning? And why haven’t you been picking our calls? Your sister is in a fret and we can’t get hold of Joshua. He went to collect his suit late in the afternoon, but the tailor says he didn’t show up so we are all here waiting for the police to update us ngoba something could have happened to him for all we know. After that mental breakdown a month ago, we are all really uneasy about what he might do. When last did you speak to him? Do you know where he is?”
I didn’t expect this. I didn’t plan for this. I don’t think I can handle this. A part of me wants to say no, I don’t know where Josh is but that clueless boy just coughed in my car, and everybody is looking at me with all sorts of questions so I point them there, and whisper “Josh is in the car. I found him wasted in a club in town and thought it wise to drop him home.” You’d think that they’d be relieved. Grateful! Like any normal people should be when someone brings their son home safe, safe from all the messy things he could have gotten himself into. But, there is something, about the way that they are looking at me that almost sobers me. it’s my sister Trish’s bloodshot eyes that get me self-conscious, like I am being seen in a way that I can’t see myself. But what are they looking at, why are they staring at me like I just killed somebody?
“Why do you have my wasted fiancé and a love bite on your neck on the morning of my wedding Natasha? Why the freaking hell….?”
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