wait!” I protested as she grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me away. Johnny looked on in confusion. It was too late, and the moment was lost.
Mandy pulled me along a hallway filled with guys and gals who were either busy with a bottle or busy with each other. I could hear the beat pumping now as she pulled me into the large living room that we had transformed into a makeshift dance floor.
“Mandy, do you realize what you just interrupted?”
“Oh, don’t worry, you got all summer to get hot and heavy with Johnny Boy. Tonight you party with the girls! Hey, Jason! Put it up! Esha’s here!”
“No problem, Mandy, this one’s for you girls! Enjoy!” As Jason began to spin Cyndi Lauper’s current hit, Mandy and I joined our girlfriends on the dance floor.
“Girls, here it comes . . . get ready for the chorus!” Mandy yelled as she threw her hands up into the air.
“Girls just wanna have fuh-un . . . whoa-o-o . . .”
“Esha! SHOTS!” Mandy yelled as she grabbed my arm for a second time.
“No, Mandy! I think I’m good for the rest of the night.”
“Oh, stop complaining,” said Carrie, the sweetest and usually most level-headed girl from our group. “We’ve graduated university! We’re finally done with exams, studying and all of that stress. Come on! Celebrate! We don’t know when we’ll be able to party like this again.”
“Carrie, we party every weekend!” I pointed out.
“Pleeeeeeease,” pleaded Reet. Throughout my whole life, Reet had been my only friend from another Punjabi family. She was stuck in the same tug-of-war as I was between our parents and our lifestyles.
“Reet! What happened to your shoes? And you’re soaking wet!” I cried out. Reet was standing on her tiptoes with her legs crossed at the ankles, as if she were hoping that no one would notice her bare feet. Her tank and skirt were drenched, and her hair was a tangled ball of wet curls. The three of us stared at Reet from head to toe before bursting into laughter.
“Honestly, Reet, what the hell did you do now?” Mandy laughed.
“Nothing, really . . . Well, Chase was chasing me—”
“Ooooo, Chase was chasing you!” we teased in unison.
“Oh, stop it! But really, so Chase and I were just joking around outside by the water, and we sorta ran into the water, and then a wave came . . . and . . . when I ran out . . . I was . . . slipper-less,” Reet said, shrugging.
“You sure you were only slipper-less?” Mandy said as we all continued to laugh.
Reet’s predicament didn’t surprise us. She was known to get herself into tricky situations that were embarrassing for her but absolutely hilarious for us. Chase, her boyfriend of one year, had quickly grown accustomed to her unpredictable behaviour. From sleeping in on exam day to driving off with her soda can still on top of her car, it could be anything, but definitely worth a laugh. That was our Reet.
“Oh, shut up! Now, people, can we continue with our shots?” Reet demanded.
“Oh, right! Esha, come on!” Mandy said, quickly shifting her focus to me. All three pouted on cue. Together they made puppies look like bulldogs.
“Uhh . . . okay . . . okay, OKAY! Bring it on! Why the hell not?” I conceded.
“YES!!!!”
Mandy placed a tray full of dirty whiskey shots in front of us, while I tried not to think about the insanely huge headache I was definitely going to have the next morning.
“What should we toast to?” Carrie asked in her usual soft tone.
“Esha?” Mandy raised her eyebrows at me.
“Um, okay, how about to living life on the edge and never forgetting your girls.”
“Cheers!” We all tipped our heads back and downed the shots. I closed my eyes as the golden liquid burned through my body. I basked in the immediate warmth it offered, something I couldn’t find anywhere else.
“Okay, enough of this. Let’s go party it up on the dance floor, ladies. Follow me!” Mandy proclaimed as she led the way back there.
It was quite crowded now. Everyone was making their way into the centre of the room. We were hitting the three a.m. mark, which meant that everyone was pretty much drunk or high. School was done, summer was starting. A whole new path stood out before us. We were young, and we wanted to party and let loose. Sensing this feeling, Jason chose to feed the crowd what it was yearning for, the hottest track of the year, “Thriller” by Michael Jackson.
I became lost in the music. People around me were letting go, singing along with the song, being free and just simply moving to the music. For a short while on the dancefloor, you can actually convince yourself that you don’t have a care in the world. You’re numb to pain, you forget your troubles, and there are no parents, no pressures, no family concerns or secrets. We all understood each other once we were on that dance floor together. We were all there for the same reason—we needed to be free. This was what parents didn’t get. They didn’t understand the inspiration and the comfort of being around people who were at the same level as us. We all shared the same uncertainties about life, and we were all trying to find a way to stall the process of having to grow up. Right then, none of it mattered; not my frustrations about my mother’s weaknesses, and especially not my father’s behaviour. That night I was free.
“Eshaaa! Wake up! It’s almost noon!” My mother’s voice startled me from my drunken sleep.
“Stop bugging meeeee!” I yelled as I toppled to the floor of my bedroom. My nose was flat against my rug, which from this angle looked like it needed a good vacuuming. Right now, my only concern was my throbbing headache. “Oh man, this is gonna hurt,” I said, holding my head as I looked up at my bed. It seemed I had been sleeping on the very edge. I guessed I’d been too out of it last night to see where I’d landed. My room was just as I had left it. The numerous outfits I had tried on last night were still strewn across the floor and over the desk, which sat across from my bed. Sunlight poured in from the many windows that lined my L-shaped room. I had graciously been given the best bedroom at the back of the house, with my sister’s old room situated across the hall from me. Each morning I rose out of bed to the scenic view of the mountains, and in summer the clear blue sky and the bright sun. Normally it was a welcome view to begin a fresh new day. Today, however, the bright sunlight only worsened my headache.
Lying on the floor of my room, I could still hear my mother venting her frustration downstairs as she prepared lunch. She was complaining, as usual, about the young generation growing up in the West and breaking away from Indian culture and traditions.
“What is it with these kids these days?” she complained. “Why are they always after ruining the peace and happiness of their mothers? Stay out all night and then don’t wake up in the morning. What is this nonsense? In my days, and in my Punjab, we girls would never ever think of doing such things! And now look at these new-age girls! Waheguru, forgive me. My child has lost her way!”
