I Dream Of Johnny (novella) (5 page)

“Attention, please, everyone,” the voice of the best man boomed through the speaker system. “As you all eat your delicious dessert, I’d like to showcase a slideshow of the happy couple.” He clicked a remote and a picture of two children appeared. “Now as you know, Jodie and Rick have known each other since childhood, so we have lots of photos to share of their lives growing up, and growing together.” He clicked over to the next one, a picture of them playing about in a puddle of mud as seven year olds. Nostalgic music overlaid the photos as they, and the years, rolled by. Then the screen went black and the loud noise of audio feedback screeched through the function room, guests covering their ears. The best man tapped the microphone but it only made things worse.
Screech!

“Ah, folks,” he said, raising his voice as the microphone stopped working. “Continue with your desserts while we see what we can do about this glitch.”

Another screech sounded, this time coming from next to me as Jonathan’s chair moved back and he stood. “I’ll help!” He wiped a remnant of ice cream off his face and pushed his arm out in front, his hand in a fist. “Jonathan Fortran Schnecklmyer to the rescue!”

Oh man. I hoped he wouldn’t accidentally cut off electricity to the whole room or start a fire or something.

“Seriously, how do you know this guy? He’s a hoot!” Susan asked, and I repeated my earlier explanation about him being a friend of the family. I tried to think of something to change the subject.

“So, um, I see Jodie didn’t invite Miss Demanding to the wedding.” That was the nickname we gave to her boss, a fashion designer with a penchant for making her staff work overtime, all the time.

Susan looked at me with a serious expression. “Didn’t you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“She died a few days ago.”

I swallowed a lump of shock and guilt. “What? How?”

“She slipped down the stairs. Was on the phone at the time and wearing heels as high as the Eiffel Tower. Poor woman.”

“Holy crap.”

“Exactly. I guess all that money didn’t guarantee her a long life.”

I looked down at my melting dessert and suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. The silly things we worried about, did they really matter in the grand scheme of things? Here was a forty-something successful woman with everything she needed, and yet she lost it all in an instant. I shook my head at the sadness of it, and a sense of gratitude for my life rose up inside. I wouldn’t waste my life. I would make the most of it. Yes.

Starting with this dessert!

I scooped a mixture of sorbet and ice cream into my mouth, letting it slide down my throat like silk. Jodie’s boss would never get to experience such a simple pleasure ever again. I wouldn’t take anything for granted anymore. As I devoured the icy treat and enjoyed the last of the delicate fruits, I had an idea —that creative spark that lights up every now and again when you’ve got the artistic gene. A vision of a new design for a children’s mobile floated through my mind. A fruit mobile! It sounded silly, but it could look really nice and colourful and might also encourage kids to eat healthier foods. Parents would love this! As I visualised it, a strange thought intruded...

But I don’t have to work anymore. I don’t have to make mobiles. I don’t have to work at The Gristle and Grill.
Now
that
I could give up, but making art? It just didn’t feel right. Sure, I could keep doing it just for fun, but there was something inherently rewarding about making something that someone else loved enough to buy from you. If I had all the money I needed, what was left? Where was the thrill in making that big sale?

My thoughts broke away when the screen glowed to life again and the music re-emerged. “Okay, folks, it’s all fixed! Thanks to the expert help of...what was your name again, buddy?” He leaned towards Jonathan. “Jonathan Fortran Schnecklmyer! Let’s all give him a round of applause.” The best man raised Jonathan’s hand victoriously, and the guests clapped and cheered. Well, whadd’ya know? My dodgy wish may have proved worthwhile after all.

Let me emphasise the word ‘may’. Satisfied with his technological expertise and overcome with emotion at the rest of the slideshow, Jonathan went up to the DJ and whispered something in his ear, then returned to the best man and commandeered the microphone. “This one’s for you, Mandy.” He pointed towards me and a spotlight heated my face.

Oh no. Why, Jonathan, why? Hadn’t I had enough embarrassment for one day? This was like the old school days, getting put on the spot in class when you didn’t know the answer to a simple question. Only worse. More like slipping on the steps of the stage after receiving your graduation certificate and having your dress end up over your head, exposing your two dollar supermarket undies, and the photograph getting passed around the entire population to haunt you and your future offspring for years to come.

Jonathan had free reign with a microphone, in front of one hundred and fifty people, all of whom had their eyes directed right at me. There was no way to refute their assumption that Jonathan and I were an item,
and
—if he had his way —would be gracing the church aisle ourselves in the near future.

Jonathan cleared his throat, the phlegmy sound reverberating through the speakers in the room, and grabbed the microphone with both hands. A familiar slow tune played and I couldn’t quite grasp what it was, until Jonathan started singing.

He couldn’t have picked a more difficult song —‘My Heart Will Go On’ by Celine Dion, the theme song from Titanic.

His voice made The X Factor rejects who thought they were actually good sound amazing, but if he had anything going for him, it was enthusiasm and passion. Not that those qualities could redeem his rendition...by the time he got to the chorus it had hit an iceberg and was sinking fast, and I imagined that if we were really on a ship the guests would be jumping overboard to relieve themselves of the unbearable agony.

Instead, a few guests took the opportunity to retreat to the bathroom, refill their wine glasses, or film the poor attempt at karaoke to probably upload later onto YouTube.

When the longest four minutes of my —
of everyone’s
—life ended, I breathed a sigh of relief as the spotlight faded and I knew we could go home soon. But Jonathan wasn’t quite ready, he wanted a full fifteen minutes of fame.

“And now, dear guests, it is with great excitement that I prepare to fulfil a lifelong dream of mine in front of you all. Brace yourselves ladies and gentlemen for my personal rendition of the greatest song ever in the history of the universe.”

Please don’t let it be ‘Gangnam Style’, please.

“And believe me, I know all about the history of the universe; it’s one of my favourite topics, which I’d be happy to give a presentation on to any interested parties after the reception.” He repeated his phlegmy throat clearing from before, and another familiar tune began playing. Then the voice. Again.

Oh dear God. ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.

Now we’d have to endure the worst singing voice in the history of the universe with the longest song in the history of the universe. Why couldn’t the equipment choose
this
moment to fail instead?

A few drunken cheers sounded from men nearby on recognising the song, and they started swaying in their chairs. “Long live Queen!” one of them yelled.

Jonathan did his best Freddie Mercury impersonation, injecting an overdose of forced emotion into every line, the veins in his face and neck almost breaking through his skin. Then it came to the classic change of tune in the song, from serious to chirpy, and even though I’d never really understood what the lyrics were —something about a silhouetted
man and a fandango —it appeared Jonathan didn’t really know either. He emphasised the words he
did
know and mumbled through the others, but the rowdy men from nearby started singing along which at least muffled Jonathan’s voice somewhat.

And then came...the head banging.

Jonathan threw his head up and down violently as the music blared, and the men who were clearly enjoying themselves made their way to the dance floor to participate in the trademark heavy metal head bang. Laughs shot through the room and more people stood to join in, as my face froze in disbelief, horror, and confusion. I glanced towards Jodie who mouthed “who is he?” but then shook her head and laughed. Susan was even head banging politely in the chair next to me. In fact, on looking around, almost everyone was getting in on the action.

A crowd grew on the dance floor as Jonathan continued singing, his face bright red from the strain. Heads moved up and down, voices chorused, and people cheered and danced about. I couldn’t believe that the God of Geeks I’d mistakenly wished for had become the life of the party! My frozen gaping mouth softened and turned upwards into a grin. “Oh, what the heck.” I pushed my chair back and stood, dragging Susan to the dance floor where we head banged with the rest of them. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Who would have thought someone like Jonathan could put a big, dorky smile on my face?

By the time I’d changed into my pyjamas back home, my grin had turned into a yawn, and so had Jonathan’s. It had been an exhausting day, and the poor guy had needed an electrolyte replacement drink and protein bar to restore himself to normal, or to restore
homeostasis
, as he’d told me.

I exited the bathroom and found Jonathan tucked up tightly in my bed.

“Jonathan! What happened to the nice comfortable bed I made for you on the sofa?”

He shot me an ‘I’m busted’ look. “Um...I don’t want to sleep alone, can’t I just stay here with you tonight? Pretty please?”

I was about to say “absolutely not” but my voice halted in my throat. Lying there looking all fragile and helpless, the blanket up to his chin, only taking up a thin width of bed with his skinny body, my resolve softened. It was just for one night. He’d probably fall asleep as soon as I turned the light out. Tomorrow this would all be over and things would be back to normal and I could have another wish.

“Well, alright. But...” I held up a stern finger. “No funny business, no singing, and definitely no spooning, got it?”

“Got it.” He grinned, his front teeth poking through his tired smile.

“And if you snore, you’re out of here, okay?”

He nodded. I turned back the covers on my side of the bed, taking one of the pillows and positioning it between us like the Great Wall of China. “Remember, no crossing into foreign territory.” I chuckled, lying as close to the edge as possible, and as soon as I turned out the light his breathing slowed and morphed into a deep, slow snore. I turned to face him, lifting my head slightly to peer across the Great Wall, moonlight peeking through the window illuminating his long nose. I was about to shake him awake but stopped myself. He looked so peaceful, even had a faint remnant of a smile on his lips. “Stuff it,” I said and grabbed the earplugs from my bedside table. “That’s better.” All I could hear was my own breathing...and the words of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ as the song played over and over in my mind.

I rolled over in bed the next morning, stretched my toes, and when my eyes blinked open I realised the Great Wall had collapsed. It was only me in the bed. I turned my wrist over to check the time. Slept in again, but considering the wedding reception went longer than planned thanks to Jonathan’s initiative, it was no big deal, and I didn’t have to work at the Gristle and Grill till Monday. Actually, I just realised I could quit! I didn’t need the job anymore. The reality of my new situation woke me from my groggy haze and I shot out of bed, splashed water on my face in the bathroom, and entered the living room where sounds of utensils clattered about in the nearby kitchen.

“Jonathan?” I almost wondered if it had all been a dream and he wouldn’t be there when I woke, but there he was, an apron wrapped around him, putting plates and cutlery onto the kitchen bench as pancakes bubbled in the frypan.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Perfect timing, your pancakes are almost ready!”

He may have been a pain in the arse for most of yesterday, but this? This I could get used to. “Well, what a nice surprise. Thank you,” I said, yawning again.

”If we got married I would make breakfast for you every morning, my darling,” he said.

“Oh, Jonathan, look...”

“And we could go on picnics together, and I’d take you to my favourite comic convention, and on Sunday afternoons we could play World of Warcraft. Wouldn’t it be great?”

“Jonathan, there’s something you...” I started, but paused on glancing at the sight to my left, just at the entrance to the hallway. “Oh wow.” I walked towards the mobile hanging from the ceiling. Five wooden hearts hung from invisible string, each painted pink and each with a different letter on them. MANDY, it spelled out. Something flip-flopped inside my heart and I turned towards him. “You made this?”

He nodded, a goofy smile stretching across his face. “Got up extra early this morning. I’m even
more
talented than I thought!”

I chuckled at his deficient modesty. “It’s...beautiful. That was really thoughtful.” The closest Dan had ever come to any of my mobiles was to push one out of the way when it obstructed his view of the TV.

“Anything for you, snookums.”

He served up the pancakes and we devoured them in minutes, and despite him knocking over my glass of orange juice —which miraculously cleaned itself up —it was quite a pleasant breakfast and I forgot for a moment about the disastrous day that was yesterday.

“Now, what fun shall we have today? Should we go to laser skirmish? Or what about I give you that presentation on the history of the universe that I never got to give last night because it was past everyone’s bedtime?”

Ping!

My eyes darted to the source of the sound —the magic lamp on the hall table. I rushed over, remembering what I’d been told yesterday, and read the screen.

Progress update: your wish exchange is ready to proceed. Please type your replacement wish below within the next fifteen minutes.

A little timer ticked away on the side of the screen.