Your son is ready

Matthew Jones

The silence in the waiting room was as uncomfortable as if it were crowded. I was sitting on the padded bench, staring at the door to room number 596, watching for any movement that might indicate that everything was okay with Johnny.

Part of me wished it was just a bad joke from Johnny, because then I could beat the crap out of him without guilt, but I know that not everything is as we want it to be. I even understand that unforeseen things happen, but this kind of unforeseen thing is the one you're looking for! What the fuck was he doing in the middle of the woods, at night and alone? Come on! I hope he doesn't come with one of those alpha male speeches on me, or I'll break his other foot.

Interrupting all my thoughts, the white wooden door opened and Steph came out of it, accompanied by Anastasia. Their faces were downcast, as if they were disappointed about something, so I got up at once. Since everyone was drunk, I let them see Johnny first and told them to go home and rest. Thus, I ended up being the last one to visit him.

“Well, I'll call a cab and go back to the house with Steph.” She forced a smile. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No.” I said. “She's had a few drinks and needs to rest.” I nodded and walked past her to the room Johnny was in.

As soon as I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was his plastered foot, hanging from a metal support so that it wouldn't move. I stared at him and saw that his attention was on the television, while he was stuffing himself with peanuts. I huffed and rolled my eyes, feeling my blood boil.

“What?” Johnny asked and shoveled in another handful of peanuts, making a noise as he chewed.

“I'm pissed at you.” I said, closing the door behind me.

“Me? For breaking my own foot?” He laughed. “That was my first time breaking a body part, man. It's an achievement!”

Holy shit. Is he really happy about this? I shook my head negatively and crossed my arms, staring at the TV report. I wasn't even paying attention, but it was better to watch it than to end up killing my best friend because he was an idiot.

“It was just a little twist, Matt.” He huffed. “Don't get mad!”

“A little twist?” I shot him a look. “You fractured your fucking right ankle, John! You're going to be out of that mess for who knows how long, unable to put your foot down.” I said the obvious, but he just shrugged.

“The doctor said it was a simple fracture, so I don't have to worry about it.” He got busy eating his peanuts. “Soon, I will be fine again.”

“It’s good.” I growled, and ended up rolling my eyes at his indifference.

We sat in silence, just listening to the television, enjoying each other's company. At a certain moment, my mind traveled, and I stared at the plaster boot on Johnny's foot, thinking about the championship. I know this is a bit selfish of me, but it was impossible not to think about it.

It was simply over. Johnny won’t be able to participate in the championship. Even though he has a very powerful organism and his body “glues” quickly to the bone, he’ll still not be able to make much effort. Any slip will be enough to fracture again, and I definitely don't want that to happen. It’s also impossible for us to modify the whole choreography, or to try to make some substitution, because there isn’t enough time for that. In other words, it's no use. Our effort goes into the trash and that's it.

On the one hand, this is good, because I was no longer interested in participating. But, it’s also bad, because the guys will be devastated, feeling guilty of everything that happened. Especially Steph, since we only came to Johnny's grandparents' country house, so she could relax a little. Just thinking about the consequences of all this makes my head throb.

“Matt.” Johnny broke the silence by calling me.

“Hm?” I stared at him.

“Can I ask you a favor?” He was staring at a point in front of him, until he faced me, waiting for an answer.

“No, I won’t scratch your ass.” I narrow my eyes.

“It’s not this, but good to know you thought that.” He smiled and I rolled my eyes.

“Say it.” I murmured, disguising my concern so that he wouldn't feel guilty either. I really don't want anyone to carry this weight on their back.

“Don't cancel the championship.” He said in one breath.

“What?” I frowned, surprised by his request.

“I know this will sound like the dumbest and craziest thing you've ever heard, but I really believe I can recover and participate in the championship in time.” He nodded.

“Johnny, don't make this up.” I shook my head negatively, already imagining chaos brewing.

“I'm serious, Matt!” He insisted. “I asked the doctor if I can recover in less than a month, and she answered sincerely that, if I take care of myself right, in two weeks I can stand up with both feet.”

“Johnny…” I warned.

“Please.” He begged. “You know how important this is to me.” He sighed. “Not just to me, but to the boys too. Especially Steph. She's in such a bad way about all this.”

I stared at him for a while, thinking about it. Johnny was right, but keeping the championship and creating expectations that he’ll come back this quickly is quite… worrisome. What if he doesn't improve? Seeing the frustration on the faces of the guys will be so painful….

The whole damn it’s that Johnny won't let go of the bone even if he is on the brink of death. And if he is asking me to do this, it’s because he trusts me. If I don't accept, I know he'll find a way and take matters into his own hands. I don't know if I want to see him jumping from one foot to the other, running the risk of breaking what is still good. I took a deep breath and faced him.

“Okay.” I said tersely. “I'm not canceling the championship.” I rolled my eyes. “But you really better recover in less than a month! Otherwise, I won't think twice before canceling.”

“Thanks, man.” He smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”

“You know you always can.” I sighed.

I was being sincere. Even though he is a few months older than me, I consider him as a younger brother. A brother that life has occasionally given me.

“So…” He commented, analyzing my face. “I need another favor.”

That look… Why do I feel that I will regret it?

“If it's within my power.” I shrugged.

“I need you to replace me.” He said without mincing my words.

“What?” I laughed in derision. “John, I'm not going to participate in the championship in your place.” I stared at him. “For starters, I didn't even want this championship to happen. I'm just trying hard for you.” I emphasized. “If you think you won't be able to participate, just let me know and I'll cancel it!”

“Who says it's for the championship?” He raised his eyebrow. “I'm talking about the rehearsals.” He gave me a wry smile. “I need you to be in my seat so that everyone feels less anxious about my absence.”

“John, I'm not dancing the ballet.” I stared at him, bored.

“It's not ballet.” He snorted. “Unless you want to replace Ana.” He smiled mischievously, and I couldn't help myself. I raised my middle finger in response. Johnny laughed out loud. “I know you've memorized all the steps. Even the ones that aren't yours.”

“Who says that?” I laughed out loud.

“I know you very well, Matthew Jones.” He narrowed his eyes. “I bet you even recorded ballet dances and analyze the steps of each one, mentally critiquing them.”

I couldn't formulate a sentence, so I just shut up and swallowed. It’s not a lie. But I won't confess either, because I don't want him to inflate his own ego with something so… unimportant.

“I'll try to help. But I can't guarantee that it’ll work.” I said, indifferently. “Not least because there's still Anastasia and that thing there… the acting.” I made the disdain clear in my tone of voice.

“Relax. You'll get along.” Johnny said simply, with a half smile on his lips. I frowned at him, looking for any double meaning in his statement, but he didn't express any, so I decided to just ignore it.

Honestly, I don't even want to think about the stress of these next rehearsals, with Anastasia giving orders. I blinked a few times, thinking about it. Fucked. I don't know which is worse: her wanting to kill me at the first opportunity or her treating me… I don't know how I can describe this new treatment.

What a hell! I just wish I didn't have to get involved in these things again, but I can't do that with Johnny – and neither can the rest of the guys. It would be too stupid. And another thing is that it wouldn't hurt me to help for a few days, right?

But what if the days turn into months?

Damn it! What if Johnny already knows that he won't get better and did it on purpose? I brought my right hand to my head, pulling back the strands slightly.

God, you can take me. Your son is ready.