Johnny returned from vacation one day, extolling the virtues of some enigmatic white dragon that he had chased. He was always chasing something, whether it was a beer keg or leprechauns' gold, and the result was the same. The one thing Johnny was a success at was failing; he did it better than anyone I’d ever met before or since. He was perfectly content in doing absolutely nothing, so long as he got happiness from it.
Once, I’d had goals of my own that Johnny simply didn’t figure into. I dreamed of strutting like a peacock down some Hollywood boulevard in a strapless Versace gown with a cell phone pressed against my ear, chatting away to the latest producers. There would be a poster up of me on the walls of some golden casino, and a gaggle of wide-eyed teenage boys would pass by with their tongues hanging out of their mouth, and girls would aspire to be exactly like me. I've always wanted to be known, after all.
Parallel to that desire, however, is the fear of being alone. The two waged war in my heart. I wanted to drive to Hollywood, New York, somewhere that I could make a name for myself. I just didn't want to be alone. When Johnny proposed, it was a perfect escape from loneliness I'd carried since birth. All it took was one, “I do," and I thought I'd never have to cope with it again. I thought all I would lose with the binding of marriage would be my independence, but after the independence I lost my dreams.
Which leaves us here, sitting calmly at the table discussing this white dragon of his. "And you're happy?" I asked.
"Yeah, Jen, I reckon I am, no thanks to you," Johnny grumbled.
I nodded politely, writing his remark off as weariness or drunkenness, or a
combination of the two. Most likely the latter. I can't remember ever seeing him sober.
"Well then I guess I'm glad."
Over the following weeks, his teeth blackened and his explanation was a feeble one. “The white dragon.” He seemed to be talking of his dragon a lot, lately, and sometimes he'd go off to the garage to spend time with the dragon. He spent more time with the dragon than he did with me.
“Meth mouth,” co-workers informed me finally, clucking like a brood of disapproving hens. I'd mentioned Johnny's dragon in passing, and until that day they hadn't said anything more of it. It wasn't until I told them about Johnny's teeth that they finally let that slip.
“No. No. Johnny wouldn’t,” I defended feebly. I sat in my cubicle the rest of the day with my lips pressed into a thin line to mask the quivering, staring blankly at the glow of the computer screen in front of me. Every now and then in an attempt to appear busy, I would shuffle some papers on my desk, but each second was devoted to dreading the inevitable showdown. The truth was that Johnny was capable of anything.
I came home that day to confront him, mascara running from the hour and a half I had spent in the bathroom stall trying to control the sobbing, lipstick smeared from the other half an hour spent being consoled by my boss. After a day of resentment at Johnny accumulating, after hours of wondering how he could do this to me, consolation had been a much welcome thing. He’d been eager to offer it, too. The aroma of his cologne clung to me, and if I hadn’t been in such a daze, I would have covered it up with an overabundance of my cheap perfume. I usually did that, to make such consolation sessions less noticeable.
I stumbled in two hours late, hair disheveled, to find him in his usual spot, slumped over in his recliner, drug so close to the T.V. that his face was almost pressed up against the glass.
I assumed he was asleep and made no effort to mute the clicking of my heels on the hard tile, strutting through the entrance into the dim interiors with my hips swaying and rage openly blazing in my eyes. He made no response, not even stirring an inch, so naturally I walked closer and said, my voice barely loud enough for him to hear over the static, “Meth, Johnny? That’s your white dragon?”
I expected a response, some, “You always were a stupid bitch, weren’t you, Jen?” All I got was a blank, clueless stare as I peeked around the corner of his stained recliner.
I crept closer, biting my tongue, choking on a million words that didn‘t do the rage I was feeling justice. You always are chasing something, I thought. It’s just never really me. How could I be so stupid?
I opened my mouth, searching for something scathing to say, some adequate way of explaining my displeasure, but all I managed was a stuttering and repetitive, “Meth, Johnny? Meth?”
He never responded, of course. Overdose, the doctor told me sadly, beginning a mechanical, rehearsed apology, to which I responded with a mechanical, rehearsed answer. “Oh dear, how tragic.”
All Johnny’s belongings found their way to the dump after I had endured the accusatory glare of his family throughout the arduous funeral. Someone in an accusatory voice muttered, “It’s her fault, you know,” And from somewhere beside the voice, another, saying, “I know, she’s such a whore.” Which reminded me of a similar conversation overhead one day, when white garments had been worn instead of black.
My fault? I never made him chase the white dragon, did I? He liked chasing things so long as it didn't tax him too much, I guess, and chasing me never was enough to satisfy him. That’s usually the way of things with Johnny’s family of course. He’s free to have everything, and they nod their head and murmur, “He deserves it, poor dear.” However, if I do anything to bring pleasure to myself, then I am proving myself a whore, or something similarly unflattering.
And maybe Johnny found his white dragon now, maybe he’s finally found peace and got something that will make him happy. I doubt it.
He was always chasing something, beer kegs, leprechaun’s gold, and most recently his precious white dragon. I never did chase anything, but now I can and Johnny can‘t stop me. His white dragon has freed both of us. One day, I'll be passing his relatives on the streets of Hollywood and look at them and say, "I knew you once, before Johnny died. But then the white dragon set me free."
Johnny's ending was my beginning.
hehe lol
other than that, you're problems have been broken down to you sentence by sentence thanks to the other critters.
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