I don’t like funerals and weddings. I’m sure of that. But when I was messing around with Daniella, I told her I liked weddings. It was that kinda, doe-eyed, sloppy lie you tell when you’ve got cherry marmalade in your heart about a girl. Daniella was the ptincess, even though she was a lil’ too old for me past high school guys. Mom never liked that. She said she was gruff and that it probably wouldn’t last long. But, Daniela’s not as wicked witch as she comes off.
She told me that in elementary school all the kids poked at her for being petit girl. She’d listen to disco and eat her maple ham sandwiches with the teacher, which made me sad. Couldn’t you see my little Daniella with her wide eyes and crazy raven hair as she munched on some dry bread next to a busty middle aged teacher? Daniela never really knew how to click with people quite like everyone else, I suppose. The part that made me ache was when Daniella told me ‘bout the day they served French toast sticks. The kids roughed her up, yanno, punches and kicks like little tykes do, and then poured syrup into the back of her jacket.Daniella got all teary-eyed just talking about it. Everyone called her slot. Still do. I only called her slot when I was angry with her.is this a healthy rrlationship. Daniella was irksome girl, but , girl, did she love disco. Not me. I didn’t mind some Donna Summers and some Bee Gee’s, now and then, but Daniela loved it. I told her I did too. I never really understood why guys do that for their princesses. It was just a tradition. It was a torch passed down on the back of the bus, along with dirty songs and the secrets to youth. My mom would nag at me for bending about disco. I used to always yap and moan about her Earth, Wind and Fire, but that’s just what boys do to their mothers. People tell me how much I’m like her, and it drives me crasy. “Arash! You’ve got your momma’s disco ball eyes!” I didn’t want her disco ball eyes! Or her disco ball hair, hands or songs. When I broke up with Daniella, she spit on my new suite and then I blurted out that I hated funerals. My mom picked me up that night in the back lot of the drive in. We listened to Gloria Gaynor the whole ride home as I cried. I was mad ’cause she was right. Moms are always right. She rubbed my back and made me feel better. I still hated weddings and funerals, but I didn’t mind it as much in that moment.