Art Exhibition
Alice
There’s crapeverywhere. Hair bobbles. Half a Babybel. A lipstick with the lid missing. In the middle of the mess sits my best friend, frantically excavating the contents of her bag. She seems oblivious to the fact that she’s just silenced an entire art exhibition by shouting ‘YOU ABSOLUTE TOOL’ into the room and yet the once noisy venue is now pin-drop quiet, all eyes turned on her as she props up the bar. I suppose art lovers aren’t used to being interrupted by angry blonde women like this. The soles of my trainers squeak as I rush over to her from the other side of the room.
Sensing that someone is coming to her aid, the crowd turn back to one another and resume their lofty chat, which is a relief all round because by the time I reach Natalie’s side I can hear that she’s peppering the air with some choice expletives. Even the unflappable bartender looks a bit nervous.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ I puff, regretting the canapés I stuffed into my mouth before making the mad dash over here.
My best friend turns wild eyes to mine and then flicks them back in the direction of her phone, nestled in amongst the mess on the bar.
‘Alice, I liked it,’ she says, clawing at the sleeves of my dress. ‘Ilikedit.’
I take a closer look. On Natalie’s screen is an Instagram photo of her snuggled up to Jake, a couple of backpacks next to them as they stand at an airport’s departures lounge. I note with alarm that it was posted in 2019.
This is not good news.
‘You remember when Jake and I went to Venice not long after we got together? Well I just accidentally liked a photo of that trip. I mean, it was literally taken in a different decade. What am I going to do?’
‘It’s okay,’ I soothe. ‘Just double tap it.’
‘I’ve been TRYING!’ She stabs at her phone so hard I’m worried she’s going to poke a hole through it. ‘The screen has frozen so now this big red heart is glaring at me. Why did the people of Instagram have to choose a heart? It’s so emotional. What’s wrong with the good old-fashioned thumbs up of Facebook? Aren’t they owned by the same company anyway? I’ve basically just told my ex-boyfriend that Ilovean old photo of us. So now …’ Having apparently run out of words, my best friend holds her bag aloft in exasperation.
‘Now you’re searching for your passport so you can leave the country immediately and be free from the shame of it all?’ I suggest.
‘Exactly.’
‘Right, breathe,’ I rally. ‘You won’t find your passport in there. It’s probably in a box back at my house you’ve labelled “personal” with your label-maker, tucked safely away in a folder called “private docs”, subcategory “travel”.’
‘Now is not the time to mock me for being organised,’ she huffs, slightly manic.
‘Just trying to lighten the mood. I have never seen you happier than when that label-maker arrived but that’s not the point right now. Let me help you fix this.’ I give her a squeeze and together we restart Nat’s phone, open Instagram back up and finally manage to unlike the pic.
Natalie slumps her head into her hands. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. You’ve been my rock through this split. I’m not sure I’d still be standing without you, let alone have somewhere to live. It just sucks that now Jake knows I’ve been deep-sea diving through his timeline like a pathetic ex-girlfriend.’
‘You are not pathetic,’ I say firmly, pulling up a bar stool next to her. ‘Look around you, Nat. This entire evening is down to you. You are a brilliant events planner and you should be incredibly proud of yourself for achieving this. I’ve never seen such a busy art exhibition and even the snooty art crowd here are impressed with it. Also the tiny food you organised is delicious. Only successful people organise tiny food. Have you had a tiny taco yet?’
At this, Natalie starts to cry. Dismayed, I search for a tissue among the contents of her bag which have been tipped onto the bar.
She sniffs. ‘Tacos used to be our thing. Jake would make tacos and we’d watch comedies and now …’
‘Andnowyou’re living with the current world title holder for Greatest Best Friend. I know it’s tough Nat, but it’s also a brand new chapter. One where you don’t need to check in with Jake, or argue over whose turn it is to buy cereal, or pick up his soggy towels from the bedroom floor. Who needs a man anyway? You’re operating on your own schedule!’
She brushes a tear away with a manicured finger and pats me fondly on the cheek. ‘Oh you. My breezy, free-spirit of a best friend. So busy living life to the max that the thought of settling down or having kids isn’t even on your radar. I know the idea of coupling up is awful for you. But we’re all different Al and for me that stuff is important. I want the whole monogamy, marriage, and multiple children thing. Only it turns out that the guy I thought I was going to share it all with has decided that he’s scared of commitment. After all this time together! I never thought at thirty I’d be back to sleeping in my best friend’s spare room and pity-scrolling through photos of my old life.’
Not for the first time lately I find myself harbouring Very Bad Thoughts about Jake. I pull Natalie in for a cuddle. ‘Heartbreak is gut-wrenchingly shit, I know, and I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this. But please don’t let what Jake did make you give up? You are a strong and brilliant woman and you will be happy again, I promise you. That is not going to happen if all you do is sit at home getting snot on my PJs while we cry atThe Notebook, though. It’s time you started to look forward again. Put your hot damn phone away, stop mooning after the past and start living in the present.’
‘Brutal.’
‘Brutal but true. Or some may say, truetal,’ I grin.
‘You’re a buffoon,’ she says, the tiniest hint of a smile on her face.
‘I know. And I love you. You will find what you’re looking for, you just need to get through this messy bit first and the good news is, I’m here to help! So put that half-eaten Babybel in the bin, stop hiding at the bar and go be proud of all the hard work you’ve put into tonight.’
I usually spend my nights drinking with friends, eating with friends, dancing with friends or all of the above. Art exhibitions are a bit off-brand for me, though I rarely say no to a night out because I suffer from clinical FOMO and tonight I’m very much here for Natalie. I cast another glance in her direction to make sure she’s doing okay and set about mingling myself. I relish a challenge and I’m determined not to be intimidated by the aloof arty bunch here. It’s the first showing of an up-and-coming artist’s latest work, apparently, so Natalie and her company have hired out this event space for the occasion. Everyone in attendance is wearing black or grey so I do stand out a bit in my canary yellow dress but I will not let a muted colour palette put me off. Tonight I’m going to transform into a high-brow appreciator of the arts! Take this black square hanging on the wall, for example. So square-like! Just jam-packed with right angles.
A woman with gold-rimmed glasses and a severe haircut moves next to me.
