HADASSAH'S STORIES

16. I find myself venting to him.

I hate to admit it again but Nina is right; I do not have a social life because, in all my twenty-three going to twenty-four boring years, this is the raddest wedding party I've ever attended. It's been a great experience, really, and that's exactly what I tell the interviewer on the red carpet.

Interviewer: "How's the party been for you?"
Me: "Honestly, it's been amazing. I've never experienced anything like it. This is definitely a highlight of my year."

Who knows, maybe you'll see me on TV or the internet soon?

The reception party ended hours ago. After the "item 7" and all the photography, the just-wedded couple, along with their colleagues, friends, and some family members, moved to the bar for the "after party," where there was more drinking, more dancing, more laughing, more partying, and obviously more fun.

It's 12:35 am. The dance floor, which was swarming with overjoyed people (myself included) a few hours ago, is now very roomy, almost empty, with only three couples tangoing to the music. By the bar where I'm sitting alone, drumming my fingers on the counter, I watch the tired but elated new couple leave with some of their friends. From the looks of it, they might have been a little drunk too, though. I smile inwardly at the memory.

Truth is, we've all been drinking and dancing all night, nonstop. Janet, Jo, Etta, Lola, Jaiye, Tega, and I have been in the thick of it all, moving to the rhythm in various formations—pairs, circles, or just letting loose randomly. Jamal and Aisha joined the excitement too at some point. I was having so much fun vibing with all the familiar faces on the dance floor, even with amazing Aisha, well... except Jamal. Dancing with him would be awkward, to say the least, given our professional relationship.

Apart from feeling kind of intimidated around him, I wouldn't want to get too excited and earn a query for misconduct or whatnot at work on Monday so I steered clear of him on the dance floor. Besides, he's not a great dancer anyway, not like Tega who was the life of the party, who commanded the dance floor like a maestro, channeling MJ and Usher simultaneously. His moves were a spectacle, captivating everyone and eliciting cheers and applause.

But now, as the fun is officially over, and people begin to trickle out, reality sets back in. It's not Jamal, my boss, who's going to ruin the night—it's Nina.

I glance anxiously at my phone again, hoping for a message that never comes.

"Damn it, Nina," I mutter under my breath, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not again."

Since the text I sent to her in the afternoon in the reception hall about the 'after party' she hasn't replied and her phone is now unreachable. Panic rises within me as I realize I'm stranded in an unfamiliar place, abandoned once again by my supposed best friend.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. It's past midnight, and I'm alone, with no means of getting home. My mind races with questions, frustration boiling over as I wonder what excuse Nina will conjure up this time. M

"Hey, you. Been looking around for you. You good?" Tega, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his jacket, stands behind me, legs apart, and asks.

I swivel around to face him, mustering a thin smile. "Yeah, just a little tired from all the dancing. You?"

"Tired? Not tonight. Jaiye, Lola, and I already made plans for our next move out of here. The night is still young, Hadassah," he scoffs, lips retracting to reveal a hint of teeth.

"That's cool. You guys have fun. It's been a full night for me already. I just want to get back home."

"Your friend, she hasn't gotten back to you yet?" Tega asks.