@forlornedâ, daniel & barbie.
foundation days, day two.
location: main street, disco fever.
the fact that daniel hadnât seen his father yet and it was day two seemed like an act of god, but since he didnât believe in god or luckâhe figured whatever his father was up to, it would catch up to the son eventually. still, two days of festivities without a single cameo offered him a little more freedom than usual and it had him in a pretty good mood, though he had spent the morning pouting over not having thought of the disco sucks shirt until the day of. at least he wasnât decked out to the nines like half of charming.Â
most of the guys from work had been heckling one another about the maidensâ performance and who would or wouldnât catch hell from their girlfriends or wives for attending it. as one of the few single members of the veterinary clinic, he received a few hisses and boos when he said he wasnât interested. if anything, he was sure that any one of those harpies would make him for his fatherâs son in a heartbeat and heâd be forced to shell out four-hundred bucks for a lap dance he didnât even get to enjoy. not that he wouldâve gone for one anyway. maybe it was his fatherâs fault, but strip clubs always seemed too shady for the younger choi and he wasnât really interested in finding out if he was right.
when he spotted barbie, he wasnât really sure what to say to her. there was a nice, largely unspoken bond between two kids with a laundry list of karmic debt thanks to their parents, but he never really knew how to initiate conversation with her even though he usually wanted to. spying a couple disappear behind the small beer garden, he donned a false expression of concern and approached her with a stage whisper of mock conspiracy. âiâm pretty sure i just saw donna summers making out with one of the village people, but couldâve sworn she came here with some frankie valli lookinâ motherfucker.â daniel scoffed in disbelief. âcan you believe this night? iâm always surprised by how all out everybody goes like itâs halloween or some shit.â
barbie doesnât drink, and if she does, not that often, not that much. the occasional glass of wine at dinner, the rare shot of tequila at the office christmas party just to show sheâs not a total bore, barbie doesnât drink often because sheâs spent so much of her life following after her own drunken mother. the idea of being like that, of losing control of herself in such a way, itâs horrifying. barbie has done so much to make sure she never reminds others that sheâs big barbâs (and ty, late devilâs discipleâs) daughter, trying so hard to distance herself from her motherâs messiness while also constantly cleaning up those messes. she can never really get away from it, though. people will always look at little barb and see big barb, a woman that laughs loudly at slot machines and cries loudly on bar stools. often, barbie can ignore it, compartmentalize, but itâs harder at town-wide functions like this. foundation days are three days where big barb has the whole townâs eyes on her and she loves to put on a show.
barbie doesnât drink, but tonight sheâs got a splash of vodka in her pink lemonade, because she feels that she deserves it on tonight of all nights. after spending most of the day trailing after her mother, and then fighting with her, then trailing again, until she finally lost her as the disco began, barbie decides this will be one of the few nights alone that sheâll indulge and have a bit of alcohol, the exact vice that has big barb in a chokehold and tormented their lives since before barbie can actually remember. itâs a disco, after all, though sheâll never lose control enough to actually dance. in fact, sheâs walking away from main street, no longer entertaining the idea of drinking in public. sheâll go back to her apartment, down the rest of her pink lemonade, and probably cry on the couch until her roommate gets home. noisily sipping her drink, sheâs slowly walking with her chin pointed downwards, almost touching her chest, when a voice suddenly jumps out at her. a dreaded voice. daniel choi, of all people, to see her look like such a sadsack!
if there was anyone in the world that could understand barbie, particularly her complicated relationship with her mother, it was daniel choi. if there was anyone in this world that barbie couldnât stand, it was daniel choi. they dated once, and a relationship that shouldâve had deep understanding just left barbie frustrated. they were both so closed off, but he didnât hide his bitterness with sweetness. there was no chirpy tone and bright smiles, daniel wears his misanthropy on his sleeve, and it left barbie with a bad taste in her mouth. even now, with his casual approach and supposedly amusing words, barbie is finding it hard to place that friendly, warm mask onto her face that sheâs become so used to wearing, so much so that it might as well be the real her. her voice very slightly slurred, she squints as she speaks, âtheyâd be fuckinâ lucky to even be in the same room as donna summer.â she knows he doesnât mean the literal donna summer or frankie valli, but sheâs looking for any reason to be rude to him. besides, she loves donna summer. âwhat are you dressed as then? a taxi driver fanboy?â