—My Dana—
When I was around eighteen years old, I worked at the local pizza place.
My female boss at the place was nineteen or twenty and named “Dana.”
Dana was a looker.
At this time in my life, I took classes at the local college. Dana took classes there as well.
She was trying to get into The University of Alabama, and the classes she took were prerequisites.
During this time, Dana and I would become best friends.
I knew everything about her, and she knew everything about me. —Everything except that I had Spina Bifida. I kept that a secret from her.
We loved working together, and since she was in charge of scheduling, we worked together a lot.
We both loved ’60s and ’70s music. Dana was a big Doors fan, and I was a big Pink Floyd fan. We got along well.
I also played the guitar and had dreams of becoming a Rock Star at this time.
I even told her what my rock -n- roll band name would be.—”White Diamond.”
It sounds cheesy, I know, but I thought it was awesome back then.
I didn’t tell anyone that name but her.
I then told her what the front cover of the CD would be.
She brought her camera to work one day, and we took photos for the front cover of my album.
In reality, I wasn’t even in a band, and my playing was nowhere near good enough.
Dana got accepted into The University of Alabama and moved to T-town (Tuscaloosa). She was over twenty-one by now.
I drove down to see her.
We spent the whole day together and had a great time.
We stayed over an hour in a music store talking about music and acting like fools. Dana even bought us a “Best Friends” necklace with a heart that was broken into two pieces. One piece was my necklace, and the other part was her necklace. You put the broken hearts together, and it says, “Best Friends.”
We went back to her place — a single-wide trailer with tie-dyed sheets on the walls and ceilings — the Doors playing on the CD player.
I decided to tell Dana about my spina bifida. It was tough to do.
She was floored. Speechless for a bit.
She changed the subject and told me that she had tried some drugs.
I was floored. Speechless for a bit.
She asked me some personal questions about my spina bifida.
I told her the truth to every question she asked me, even telling her that I could not make love and that my body did not produce sperm.
I remember her saying, “Oh…” while the “Doors” “Break on Through” was playing in the background.
“I met this guy; he takes pictures for those adult magazines,” she said.
“Oh…,” I said.
“So, this whole time, you’ve had spina bifida? Why didn’t you just tell me?”
I told her that it wasn’t easy to explain.
I remember saying, “Since I’m not in a wheelchair and all,” and “I look normal on the outside and stuff.”
“Are you gonna start taking nude pictures or something?” I asked her.
“Nah… Just nice to get offered.”
We talked a little more, and I drove back home.
We hugged before I left.
“I love you” was the last thing I said to her before leaving.
I called her the next day —and the next ten days. She never answered.
I finally called her mom, and her mom told me that she had gone missing.
Her mom had not heard from her in over two weeks.
She said she called the police and filed a report. Then, she asked me to please tell Dana to call her mom if I talked to her.
I told her mom everything we talked about the last time I visited her.
I didn’t believe she was missing, though.
I just figured she didn’t want anything to do with me after finding out I had spina bifida.
I began to hate my spina bifida. I saw it as something terrible. Bad.
I hated it.
I called her several more times and got no answer. I called her mom, and again, her mom told me she had gone missing.
Life went by. I grew up.
To this day, I do not know what happened to Dana.
And, I don’t know if I was “In Love” or not. But, I know for 26 years, I have thought of her often.
At this point, though, I think I’d rather not know what happened.
Not all stories have a happy ending.
