Danica put the last brushstroke of charcoal gray on the studio wall and looked over to Angelo, sweat-drenched, rinsing the rollers.
“C’mon,” Danica said. “Let’s go to Chandra’s for quesadillas and margaritas.
“Oh, fuck no,” Angelo called over his shoulder, “Chandra’s burns their tortillas.”
Danica tossed her brush in the water. “Obviously not all the time or they’d be out of business.”
“Yeah, well I’m not taking the chance. Burnt tortillas lead to bad shit.”
Danica repeated exactly what Angelo said under her breath, just to make sure she was hearing him correctly.
“What kind of bad shit do burnt tortillas lead to?”
Angelo grabbed a beer can, lifted it to his lips. It was empty and he tossed it aside.
“Cloister and me got in a car accident because of burnt tortillas.”
“Cloister was kind of a strange one, “ Danica said. “I almost didn’t go out with you because you dated her. Cloister. Weird. Is that Irish or something?”
Angelo scanned the room for a beer can that looked like it had beer in it.
“She’s Irish, but Cloister ain’t Irish, it’s a nickname.”
Danica boosted herself onto the counter, smirking. “What kinda nickname is that?”
“Joey Towtruck got her older sister pregnant when she was sixteen, so Cloister’s mom sent Cloister to some hardcore convent thing where she couldn’t speak, except to god, for like a year. She was gonna be a nun.”
“No wonder she was weird.”
“She was eccentric. And she burnt tortillas. I hate burnt tortillas.”
Danica peeled some gray paint flakes off the webbing of her left thumb.
“Wait, you hated burnt tortillas before Chandra’s burnt them?”
“Yeah. Cloister wanted to get married so we could have sex, so she wanted to--”
“Hang the fuck on,” Danica said. “You guys were living together before you had sex?”
“Yeah, because I was laid off from the carpet place and I was gonna have to move down to New Orleans to do Katrina rebuilds, but Cloister--Mary Elizabeth--didn’t want me to leave.”
“So you guys were living in sin but not like...living in sin? She wouldn’t fuck you until you got married?”
“Kinda.”
“Kinda?”
“Exactly that, but it’s embarrassing.”
Danica wiped at a thin sheen of sweat on her neck.
“What’s this got to do with burnt tortillas?”
Angelo punch-cracked his knuckles and did that weird thing he did with his belt buckle that Danica knew was a nervous habit but thought was cute.
“I was explaining the tortilla thing but you interrupted me about the sex thing.”
“Trust me darlin’”, Danica said with an instructional nod “you would have interrupted you with questions about the sex thing.”
“Maybe,” Angelo said.”So anyway, Cloister burnt some tortillas and I yelled at her about it. She was just trying to learn how to cook to please me, to be a good wife.”
“And you were mean?”
“I didn’t mean to be mean,” Angelo said, sympathy pouting unsuccessfully.
Danica began to make little paintballs with the flecks she was peeling from her skin.
“So you were being mean to your girlfriend about burnt tortillas and this is burnt tortilla’s fault?”
Angelo took a deep breath. “We can go to Chandra’s for margaritas, I just won’t eat.”
“Oh, hell no, I want to hear how it was burnt tortilla’s fault that you and Cloister got in a car accident.”
“Well,” Angelo began, a bit exasperated “ after I raised my voice about the tortillas the first time, she burnt ‘em again. But I didn’t know she burnt ‘em, because I was upstairs playing Madden. But she knew she burnt them, so she hopped in the car to go to HoneyBee Market to get more tortillas. I came downstairs, saw the burnt tortillas and her car gone and I knew, I just knew, she had gone to HoneyBee to get more tortillas. Except her purse and wallet were on the counter. So I grabbed her purse to meet her at HoneyBee. I got in my car and backed out of the driveway. Except Cloister had already realized she forgot her purse and was speeding down 23rd and smashed into my car as I backed out.”
“So you got in a car accident with each other?”
“Yes.”
“So this poor little Irish recovering nun is trying to cook tortillas to please you and you traumatized her, so she panicked the next time, you backed into her car...but this is the fault of burnt tortillas?”
Angelo nodded.
“Yeah, if you follow the timeline back, it originated with--”
Danica shook her head “Just leave Angelo.”
“Wait, I thought we were going to Chandra’s?”
“I’m not in the mood anymore.”
“We can go to El Rey.”
“Angelo, you selfish asshole, I’m a vegetarian, I don’t wanna look at a bunch of chickens on a spit.”
Angelo walked up to Danica and gently placed his hand on her leg.
“Aww, sweetheart, we don’t have to go anywhere. Let’s just go upstairs and make love.”
Danica slapped his hand away. “Why don’t you go find Cloister, apologize for yelling at her about the burnt tortillas, and make love to her.”
“I never made love to Cloister.”
Danica stared at Angelo.
“You never had sex with your fiancee?”
“Nooo, I broke up with her for totaling my car.”
***
Photo by Cheryl Tash
That was funny