“To die in pursuit of greatness… for such is a man’s humble dream.” Annette could only hear those words as she helplessly eyed Jonathan. He looked plain as plain could be. With a torn beige tee, unwashed pants, scrambled hair, and crumbs of unfinished food to don his once magnificent appearance.
“John,” she called mildly, hoping he would not hear. Only to be disappointed by its correctness. “Johnathan,” her frail plea grew louder.
“Ann! Can’t you see I’m doing something important? What is it? Is it about dinner? I don’t need any!” He declared.
The birds outside chirped in a familiar hum to Annette’s silence. The yellow rays of the rising sun peeked into their life to see if anything had changed. Another morning began just the same. Annette turned away from her husband, just the same.
“On second thought. Bring me dinner. I am feeling hungry.” Johnathan realized. His eyes never left the laptop. “I have finally found out why my character Susan is crying secretly on the side!” His eyes sparkled. His wife walked away. “Annette! Did you hear me, honey?” Yet not for a second did it lift above. Nor for a single moment did it fall below to see wet floors. The morning sun rolled his eyes over to the afternoon. Jonathan still kept writing… For he was the creator of worlds.
“You’re getting married to Johnathan Myers? The Johnathan Myers?” Leslie screeched like an uncomfortable chalkboard on hearing the news.
“Yes — Yes,” Annette replied in between laughs. Their girls’ night out ended with her colossal announcement. For which Leslie held her up for two more hours; half scolding and half congratulating.
“You’re so lucky, Ann. Oh! How beautiful the words he says to you would be. I bet he’ll write poems about you. And stories. And… Ugh!!! He sounds like the kind of man who will gift hand-written letters.” Leslie, drunk on at least three pegs, boomed into overdrive.
“Sounds like you wanna marry him more than me.” Annette teased. “Should I inform Benny?”
“Oh, Senorita… for tonight, I am a maiden. Take me in thine hands and make me an impure soul,” she blabbered. “For it is I… I who is supposed to be your wife. And you, my master, my Shakespeare, my Romeo… Blspsj — ”
“OK! That’s enough drinks for you.” Annette took away the glass that was crash-landing onto Leslie’s face.
“I’m married to an analyst. A boring ass, hard-working, rich analyst without an ounce of art in him… Ugh! You’re going to be married to a writer. And a fucking good one at that! You’re so lucky, Ann!” Leslie stole the glass again and drank like she had no work to appear on the morrow. “The wife of Johnathan frigging Myers…”
“Let’s just pretend whatever you said nothing about Benny just now.” she raised her glass and joined in on the celebrations one last time.
Annette looked in the mirror. There were sags on her face now, which didn’t exist on that alcoholic night with Leslie. “Johnathan Myers,” she mumbled. The two-storied house silently hushed back in reply; as if to say, “Quiet! Master is at work.” She obliged. For he was the creator of worlds. And she was the creator of none.
“Annie, darling. Do you understand how good this marriage is for you? You’re going to be married to a world-renowned author.” Her mother rambled on as she straightened every nook of the pearl-white wedding dress. “You’re going to be the wife of someone very important.” She went on as if she wasn’t the first one to be skeptical about Johnathan when Annette brought up his name. It took three world-renowned books before her parents gave the blessing to Johnathan. And on the day of the wedding, she was reminded again and again by them of how blessed she was.
“They say he’s one influential book away from the Shakespeare prize. It’s the highest peak any writer can achieve. At such a young age! It’s a feat that hasn’t ever been accomplished before. And you get front-row seats for it.” Her father joined. His eyes went from tip to toe, judging her wedding dress; as if to make sure his daughter was good enough for the “new man”, as he once described Johnathan.
The wedding came and went. The cameras flashed and ran. The guests, without exceptions, said, “You’re marrying someone who will be great! You lucky girl.” and parted. Their story had just begun. But it was not the one he wanted.
“Johnathan Myers is a genius, child.” William Hashby, Johnathan’s mentor once advised her. She had gone to him to direct his so-called literary wisdom to his student. “Nothing but greatness will satisfy him. That is his destiny. There are very few that are meant to be great. Many yearn to be. But very few are destined. He is one of them.”
“At what cost, Mr. Hashby? In his pursuit of greatness, will he forget me? His life outside books? Is he supposed to end up a living corpse?” Annette asked. The master stared her down from the peak. How dare she? He must have thought.
“Johnathan Myers is destined for greatness. He is the creator of worlds.” he repeated.
“What’s the point of creating a world, if you can’t live in it?” she asked. “Is his world with me that disappointing that he prefers to die in pursuit of another?”
“To die in pursuit of greatness… for such is a man’s humble dream,” he replied. The creak of the door applauded his scripture. The chandelier above their head shone to its glory. William Hashby’s mansion silently grew an inch higher on the lone mountain. For there was none but the great man to inhabit such heights.
“You went to Mr. Hashby?” Johnathan roared. His eyes were hazel colour. Annette had forgotten; of course, it had been long since she stared at them. Hiss lips were broken lipids, yet they groaned, “How dare you disturb such a great man?” His stench had become unbearable even from afar. “How am I supposed to make it up to him? This is beyond shameful!”
“It took shame to get you to look at my face,” Annette responded. “What will it take then for you to be free from this obsession? It is just a prize, John. Just a prize! Nothing more.”
“Just a prize?” He shook. The entire house fell silent. As if it couldn’t believe the blasphemous words that came out of her mouth. “You’ve changed Ann. You used to understand me. I am the creator of worlds Ann! It is what I do!” His eyes flared. His nostrils inflamed. “Do you think the great people of this world reached where they did without this obsession? Mike Tyson, Muhammed Ali, Thomas Edison, and many others. They were all obsessed. Obsessed to win. Obsessed to fulfill their destiny. I feel no shame to be like them. The only shame I feel now is to call you my wife.”
“Then don’t.” Annette returned.
“You ungrateful….” Johnathan continued his speech. Macbeth would have applauded it. Romeo would have fallen in love there and then. Yet Annette held her belly, hoping that she was covering her unborn child’s ear.
On May 18, 2024, the destined day happened. Annette turned on her television. The loud complaints of her mother went on unwavered; as they had for the past year and a half. Her father silently sat on the sofa beside her; taking note to leave enough space between them, of course. Even Leslie joined, with her boring husband to the grand evening. They too sang notes of disapproval to the little lass wearing house blouses. Yet Annette’s eyes were on little Jean. She bumped her golden hair onto her chest, smiling toothless grins at her mother, unknowing of the great sin she committed.
“You could have been sitting there,” Annette’s father scoffed at the random brunette sitting in the front row of the award ceremony. Her mother nodded in acceptance. Leslie and Benny ignored the awkward silence just as Annette’s parents ignored her plights. Yet the ocean blue eyes of Jean met hers with nothing but pure conviction.
“Hey, it’s starting,” Leslie announced.
“And… the winner of the Shakespeare prize is — ” The pause felt longer to others than to Annette. She knew far before any of the winner. She could see it among the nominees. The three men; two of whom were unworthy. Although not visible to the naked eye. To Annette’s trained ones, it was evident. A dead man was sitting amongst them. With neither smiles nor tears. The creator of worlds, the destroyer of his own. “Johnathan Myers!” The crowd stood up in admiration. Her father rose in desperation. Her mother gasped as if it was her son. Leslie blushed, imagining fairytales with the brilliant writer. And Jean… she still stared at Annette.
Johnathan walked one step with each echoing applause. His young skin had grown fickle and sickly. His jaw protruded where once there was fat. And his walk was bent as if he had lost the stick he was supposed to hold. As he received the one prize his heart most desired, Johnathan became the prodigal son, the destined child, the creator of worlds. William Hashby nodded in respect for his protegee. Yet Johnathan… could not even produce a smile.
“It is with great honour that I accept…” and thus began his speech. The one Annette had overheard a hundred times over. The one he recited even in his sleep. A tiny teardrop exited her right eye. Jean looked at her, wondering who was worthy of such praise from Mother’s eyes.
Annette mumbled softly, to the ears of the one she loved the most, about the one she once used to love. “Look, honey… there stands the destroyer of worlds.” Standing amidst the ashes of a paradise he was supposed to build, Johnathan Myers achieved his lifelong destiny… To die in pursuit of greatness… for such is a man’s humble dream.
