The Theory Of Catastrophic Collision

1

I sipped my beer and stared blankly into the distance. Keith Watson was currently droning on and on about something his coach said to him at practice and how it motivated him to win the homecoming game. 

  Why was I even here? My eyes roamed the room until I located the answer to that exact question: Tasha Egwu. My best friend. Tasha's leo ass loved a good party, and we'd recently came up with an agreement where I'd go to parties with her if she'd go to gay clubs with me. Having a lesbian best friend was beneficial because I was never interested in any of the guys she was talking to, and I could make sure she got home without any complications because I was always the only girl there who wasn't twerking or being dicked down upstairs.

"So," Keith leaned in placing his palm against the wall behind me, "You're a really good listener, wanna check out my A Tribe Called Quest vinyl upstairs?" I sighed, "Oh Keith, you can't be serious." He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "I'm a lesbian, Keith." I swear he looked like the black version of that 'white guy blinking' meme. "I thought that was just a rumor..." Wow, he was really distraught. I held up my hand to show off my stub-length nails, then popped the collar of my flannel. "I try to look as gay as possible at parties to avoid this exact tedious conversation." I shrugged then nodded at Tasha who was currently throwing it back and splashing her water bottle of vodka all over the girl behind her. The girl shouted a shrill exclamation of anger, "Bitch!" I handed Keith my cup, "That's my cue." I made my way across the room to take Tasha home before I was prying her drunk ass off the angered civilian. 

About three and a half hours, two bottles of water, and four segments of vomiting later I was tucking Tasha into bed then climbing in beside her to check the news and activist accounts I followed on Instagram. Headlines seemed relatively normal, America was still complete trash, but there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. It was just another night where Tasha was shit faced, I'd been hit on by a cishet jock, and America was in it's usual state of shambles.

I closed my eyes and drifted off, the thought that everything I knew about my life would soon unravel never crossing my mind. But then again, when does the last night of complete normalcy ever feel like exactly that? Hindsight will forever be 20/20.