I Cant Dance I Cant Sing

I CAN'T DANCE, I CAN'T SING

WITH ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO PHIL COLLINS!

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I write for my enjoyment and as therapy to exorcise some demons. Although my stories are mostly fictional, they are usually based loosely around actual events in my life.

Names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty. Just remember this is the internet.... Nothing here is real... If you do believe it is real, please seek professional help. Of course, any sex scenes occur only between persons aged 18 years or older.

I hope you enjoy reading this, but if not, I really don't give a fuck because I'm an Aussie..

Deal with it...!!

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It started in pre-school. We were 4 year olds, but the adults thought we should be able to dance a waltz and fox trot. What boy in his right mind wanted to get close enough to a girl to catch 'girl cooties'? We may not have known exactly what 'girl cooties' were, but we didn't want to catch a dose of them.

No matter how much I protested to my parents, they were adamant that I would learn to dance with a girl. Even my 4 year old logic didn't work with them, "But I don't know how to dance!" I cried. My mother came back with, "We know. That's why all of you will learn together."

So there I was, Jack (Jackson) Jones, in our classroom 2 days later on a Friday morning, unwillingly facing what I, and a large number of the other boys, believed was a fate worse than death. All the girls were lined up along one wall, with all the boys along the opposite wall. Everything else in the room was stacked along the other 2 walls, leaving a clear area between us and them.

Our teacher introduced us to a woman and man standing beside her, and said they would be teaching us how to dance. The woman took the girls in a group and the man took us boys. He spoke to us in a loud whisper, like he was telling us a great secret.

He explained how he was our age once and heard about 'girl cooties'. He told us that when he got older, he found out they weren't real. When we got older, we would understand that girls could be wonderful creatures. Then he asked if any of us had seen our parents dancing together, most of us said yes. He then told us that most women like dancing, and it would be a good way for us to keep healthy as well.

With a few more encouragements, he soon had us on side and we agreed to give it our best shot. I think what finally convinced us was when he said, "You don't have to be any good at it, as long as you try." Then came the most difficult part. Picking a partner.

No-one made a move. I think this was expected, because the teacher then produced a small box and told us that all the boys names were on a piece of paper in the box, and the girls would take turns to draw a name. There was a murmur of discontent among the boys until the man gave us a wink and nod, as if to say this was a good idea.

Turned out I was partnered with Sandy Smith. Sandy had been learning ballet since she was 3 and had at least some rhythm when it came to dancing. I had to keep apologizing for standing on her toes. When our next lesson started on the following Friday, Sandy was partnered with Dave Dixon, and I was partnered with his ex partner, Sonia Lewis.

Sonia and I somehow managed not to stand on each others toes more than 3-4 times each lesson, so we considered that a win. It turned out that Sonia hated the dancing lessons just as much as I did. By the end of the year, I considered Sonia a good friend. Not only that, but we could dance together without any toes trodden on. We still couldn't keep in time with the music though.

After the Xmas holidays, I started year 1 at real school. But Sonia didn't show up on the first day. When Mum picked me up that afternoon, I mentioned about Sonia not being there. That was when I found out that Sonia and her family had moved away during the holidays. My Mum had tried to find out where they went, but was unable to get any details.

The enforced dancing lessons continued through that first year of school. Debbie, the girl I was partnered with, and I just never liked each other. It was nothing either of us did, but it was just one of those times that you don't gel with each other. Although we both asked to be partnered with someone else, it never happened. So we just went through the motions.

By the end of the year, I lost whatever 'rhythm' I may have had. When school started back for year 2, I was ecstatic to learn that we would not be forced to dance anymore. That happiness was short lived though. We were informed on our second day that we would be required to learn to sing. We had 4 months until the mid-year school concert. Every student was expected to participate.

Thankfully the music teacher realized I would never be a singer. She worked out a plan whereby I would stand at the back of the group and just mouth the song. All I had to do was learn the words. I could live with that. Mum and Dad thought my performance was great. I could never find a way to tell them the truth.

By the time I finished school and had started working, I had used every excuse in the book, and some I just made up, to avoid having to dance with a girl. Young adulthood brought a new challenge. Going out with my mates and ending up at a karaoke bar. The only thing that finally stopped my mates trying to get me to sing, was the threat of physical violence.

I won't bore you with details of my early dating life, but suffice to say I was a typical 20 something, red blooded, heterosexual Aussie male. That was until one Friday night when my mates dragged me to a new nightclub one of them had found. My mates thought it was a hoot. This particular night, not only was there karaoke, but dancing as well.

I was standing in line at the bar with 4 people in front of me, when the guy who just got served stepped back, bumping into the person behind him, who in turn bumped into the woman in front of me. I could see she was going to continue the chain reaction, so I braced myself for the hit. Problem was, she stepped backwards, which in turn drove the heel of her stiletto into the top of my foot. I was wearing soft canvas shoes that night and it hurt like shit.

I let out a "Fucken hell" that was loud enough for my mates to hear. Being great mates, a couple of them bustled their way over to me to make sure I was okay. By the time they got to me I was feeling no pain. Mainly because I was gazing into the eyes of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. The girl who had stood on my foot turned around to apologize, but when our eyes met, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

That was how I met Wendy Walsh. My mates helped me up and to our table, with Wendy close behind. When I was seated, an empty chair appeared beside me which was quickly filled by Wendy. Magically drinks also appeared. I have no idea what happened to my mates that night, but they seemed to disappear.

I know that Wendy and I never left the table, but our drinks never seemed to get empty. By the end of the night, I knew in my heart Wendy was the woman I was destined to spend the rest of my life with. The logical part of my brain was telling me that 'Love at first sight' was a fallacy, but the heart knows what it wants.

Over the next weeks we got to know each other. My anxiety kicked into high gear when Wendy casually mentioned she had been at the nightclub that night to take part in the karaoke and maybe find someone to dance away the rest of the night. I knew then that I had to let her go. There was no way I could hold on to her. She would end up resenting my lack of dancing ability.

Noticing the change in my demeanor, Wendy insisted on a full explanation. I couldn't lie to her and told her everything, from enduring my first dancing lessons to how I bluffed my way through the school concerts. By the time I finished my tale, Wendy was laughing hard. With my self doubt in full swing and moisture in my eyes, I said to her, "I'm glad I amused you", then I headed for the door.

I had only taken 4 steps before Wendy slammed into me from behind, knocking me to the floor. That was impressive, because I am 6' 1" tall and played rugby, where as Wendy is 4' 11" and would make a jockey look overweight.

Showing amazing strength for her size, she proceeded to flip me onto my back and straddled my waist. She then looked deep into my eyes and with tears leaking down her face said, "Where the hell do you think you're going?" I told her that that my male ego wouldn't let me stay with someone who could laugh at my weaknesses.

I never expected the slap across my face. Nor did I expect the kiss where she slapped me and the full blown sobbing from her that followed. After a dozen or more "I'm sorrys", she finally said she wasn't laughing at me, but at the story.

Suffice to say we sorted out our problems and we married 18 months later. Wendy had taught me to dance well enough, that when we took to the floor for our 'first dance' I almost looked like I knew what I was doing. Although I was uncomfortable, Wendy made me feel like we were the only two people in the room, and for the first time ever I actually enjoyed dancing.

All through our courtship, Wendy had participated in various karaoke events. She had won 4 of those and placed very well in some others. Occasionally some of the venues even called her, asking if she would perform at an upcoming contest. Damn that girl could sing. For some reason I could never understand, she was just not interested in trying to be a professional singer.

When our children came along, Wendy threw herself into motherhood with gutso. Three girls in 5 years. Debbie, Nichole and Amy thankfully looked more like their mother than me. They all enjoyed dancing lessons and could sing reasonably well without any training. As the kids got older, all four girls would go to karaoke together.

I would tag along because after each of them had sung their own song, all four of them would get together at the end of the night to perform one song together. To me, it was like what I would imagine a choir of angles might sound like. I don't think I was the only one who thought that. The applause and calls for an encore from the audience was testament to their talent.

So it came to pass that our 17

th

wedding anniversary was coming up in 3 months, with Wendy's 40

th

birthday 2 days later. Me being a typical male, I didn't have any good ideas of what to get her to mark these occasions. So I went to my 'go to' back up plan.

I asked the girls to help me. They had always been just that bit closer to their mother than me. I could understand that and never held it against them. They had grown into wonderful humans and at the ages of 15,14 and 12 had a bright outlook on life. Anyway, they told me the one thing Wendy would really love would be for me to sing her favorite song to her.

I had to reject that outright because I knew that if I tried to sing "I will always love you" by Whitney Houston, Wendy would never be able to listen to that song again in the same way. When I explained this to the girls, they protested that, "Mum would love the fact that you at least tried."

Then I threw them for a total loop by suggesting that I write my own song for Wendy and sing that for her. When I asked if they would help me, their excitement level went through the roof. We started our project that night. I had no idea where to start, but Debbie told me to just write down what I wanted to say. We could always put it into some kind of order later.

That task took me nearly 2 weeks. It took another 3 weeks to turn my jumble of words into a story of sorts. It described us meeting then falling in love. My shortcomings compared to her talents and her accepting them. The growing of our family and finally the deep feelings I have for her and our daughters.

Nichole wanted to play her guitar while I sang, but I said I really wanted to do this by myself. So she taught me where to put my fingers to play 3 different notes. I have no clue what they were, but they sounded nice to me. It took me another 3 weeks to almost master that skill.

I had 4 weeks until Wendy's birthday party where I planned to surprise everyone, apart from the girls, with my newfound 'talent'. I spent every spare moment learning and practicing. I was determined to at least not embarrass myself too badly.

Our anniversary fell on the Saturday and Wendy's birthday was on the following Monday. Not being anywhere near a millionaire, we decided one party would suffice for both events. On the Friday night, Wendy and the girls headed out a karaoke event they had been invited to, and I headed to my mancave for one last practice session before tomorrow. I was as ready as I would ever be.

It was just after 10pm when they drove into the driveway. Naturally, I got up from my lounge chair and turned on the outside light then opened the door for them. Only it wasn't Wendy and the girls. It was a police car, and I knew as soon as I saw their faces it wasn't good news.

As they came further into the light, I recognized Senior Sergeant Rick Price. He and I had gone to school together. His partner, Mandy Jackson was a few years behind us. He walked up to me and hugged me, saying how sorry he was to be bringing me the sad news of the car Wendy and our girls were in, being hit by an out of control semi-trailer. The girls died instantly and Wendy was in hospital, but not expected to survive the night.

If Rick hadn't been holding me, I would have collapsed. My whole world ended there and then. The next thing I knew was me sitting in the back seat of a police car with it's lights and siren going. Mandy sat beside me and handed me my wallet, keys and mobile phone. I remember a number of police vehicles blocking major intersections as we sped through.

When we arrived at the hospital, a doctor met me and gave me a quick rundown of her injures as I was rushed to Wendy's room. He commented that he was surprised she was still alive. When I got there, I found her awake but very groggy from the pain medication they had pumped into her. When she saw me, a half smile, half frown crossed her face.

She whispered that she was so very sorry that she didn't keep the girls safe and asked for my forgiveness. I told her I knew she did everything she could and there was nothing for me to forgive. I leaned down to kiss her and she kissed me back, then said she wanted to hear my song I had written for her. I had a surprised look, but she said I knew Amy could never keep a secret and she had known for the last 2 weeks.

Just then a nurse walked in the room with a guitar and handed it to me. With a small grin, Wendy told me to start singing. With tears streaming down my face, I gave it my best effort. The smile never left Wendy's face, and when I finished she thanked me and told me it was wonderful, then asked if I would do something for her. Of course I said yes, but then she made me promise to do it. I made that promise.

Her next words were her last. "I love you my husband!" came from her lips and then she was gone. The alarm sounded, and the nurse who had brought the guitar walked in with tears still running down her cheeks. She turned off the alarm and a few seconds later the doctor entered the room. He quickly checked Wendy over and nodded his head. I knew what he meant. When I asked for some private time, they both left without a word.

I said my final goodbyes to Wendy and thanked her for our life we had together. Sometime later I wandered from her room to the nurses station where I returned the guitar. I asked if I could see my daughters and the head nurse said she would get someone to take me to them.

Rick and Mandy showed up and escorted me to the morgue where my daughters waited. I couldn't make myself walk through the door. I eventually got Rick to almost drag me inside. Once there, he and Mandy stayed close by while I said goodbye to them. I told them about singing our song to Wendy and how much she loved it. I also thanked Amy for blabbing about it, otherwise Wendy never would have heard it. I heard a couple of sobs from Mandy as she left the room. Rick stoically stood beside me as I said my final words to them. It was almost as hard to exit the room as it was to enter.

We met Mandy waiting in the hallway, and they guided me to the cafeteria where Mandy got coffee for all of us. No words were spoken and none were needed yet. I had finished my coffee and said, "I guess I should start making some phone calls soon."

It was now 5am and I knew my Dad would be awake. He was always the one who woke the rooster. I pulled out my phone and my hands started shaking so bad that I dropped it. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't pick it up. The tears came again.

Rick picked it up and asked who I wanted to call. When I said 'my Dad', he scrolled through my contacts and made the call for me. When Dad answered, the only word I could get out was "Dad!" before I broke down again. Rick took over and spoke with Dad. I don't know what was said, but Rick told me my Dad would be here soon.

Mandy had brought us refills and about 10 minutes later my Dad and Mum walked through the door. I thought I was all cried out, but when they wrapped me in their arms, they cried with me until I settled down. I started to try explaining what happened, but Dad told me Rick had outlined the circumstances. Dad also told me he had called Wendy's parents and they were on their way. He expected them sometime after 1pm.

Mum stood up and said they would take me home. I stuttered that I couldn't go back home yet, it was too soon. Mum said I was going to their place, but I needed some clothes and toiletries. Dad could go in the house while she and I waited in the car. When we pulled in front of my house, I expected the girls to come running out. Then I realized that would never happen again. Dad came out with a suitcase and a plastic rubbish bag. When I asked what he got, he just said, "Stuff I thought you might need."

We arrived at my childhood home and Mum asked what I wanted to eat. I said I wasn't hungry, but she insisted I needed to eat something. Dad said he would love one of her traditional breakfasts, so she started to make enough for all of us. When we had eaten and cleaned up, I said I would have to contact everyone and tell them the party tonight was canceled.

Mum reminded me this was still a small town and news traveled fast. She was sure most everyone already knew what happened. She volunteered to make contact with those invited and I agreed. I found out later that Mum was right about the news traveling fast. Everyone knew by lunchtime.

When Wendy's parents arrived, it was another bout of tears. I tried to apologize for not keeping Wendy safe, but they would have no part of that. They said it wasn't my fault as no-one could have foreseen what happened. Later that afternoon we discussed funeral arrangements. When I asked where they wanted Wendy buried, they said she should be buried with her daughters who she adored, and wherever that was, they would be happy with that.

Their funeral was held two weeks later. It was decided that one large funeral would be easiest on all concerned, especially me. The church was standing room only. My fellow fire fighters carried their caskets to the waiting hearses, as well as providing the guard of honor from the church. Arriving at the cemetery, the children from the girls schools formed a guard of honor from the gate to their burial plot. I'm sure half the town turned out for the funeral. Wendy was well known and loved for her charity work.

And then it was over. They were gone. But never to be forgotten. I was determined that would be the last night I stayed at my parents house. I was not going to be a 43 year old man living with my parents. The next day I moved back into our home. It was one of the hardest things I had ever done. Each day it seemed to get just that tiny bit easier, but there were those days when I was ready to end it all. But I knew that would upset Wendy and the girls.