#174 Jennifer Dreams with Johnny

by Eliza Mimski

Jennifer was a late bloomer. She’d never been kissed or gone out on a date. She daydreamed a lot, vague silky daydreams of finally being tended to. She didn’t exactly know what this meant, not until her grandmother gave her the old Johnny Mathis records.

“I love Misty!” she said to her grandmother. “Can you imagine having that effect upon someone where they got that confused? They wouldn’t be able to tell their hat from their glove!” She doubted she would ever have this kind of power over anyone, but she wanted a lover so mixed up in love that he couldn’t tell this from that.

“When you get older you won’t want all that drama,” her grandmother said, laughing. “Believe me, it gets old!”

Jennifer felt foolish, yet alone in her bedroom she closed her eyes, wondering what it would have been like growing up in Johnny’s era, going to dances where couples held each other tight, dancing cheek to cheek, their feet barely moving.

It embarrassed her a little, listening to these mushy, romantic songs from a different era when falling in love was easier. Yet inside of his voice there was a rose, a crushed rose. Inside of his voice there was promise and hope. Inside of his voice there was a long street where everything was free. Inside of his voice there was a brightly lit candle, showing her the way home.

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