Page 39 of The Moon Also Rises
He blends Sylvester perfectly into a more upbeat dance track from a decade or so ago and several members of the crowd roar with approval when they recognise what it is. My foot starts tapping and a little of the weight I was feeling a moment ago lifts. I consider getting up to dance, but my feet still hurt so I don’t move. Instead, I go back to watching Rami, which also makes me feel a bit better.
After a few songs, he looks up and catches my eye. He smiles and nods at the dance floor and gestures for me to dance. I shake my head. Honestly, I’d rather just watch him. He looks so at peace, so intentional and content. It’s quite nice to see him looking happy and relaxed. He stares at me for a beat longer but then shrugs and goes back to work.
I watch him and occasionally the crowd for a few more moments before I realise what else would make me feel better. I pull out my phone and message my sister, Jenna.
Much to my surprise, she replies less than a minute later.
Yes, I also told my sister I was seeing Rami. What’s one more lie when you’ve told countless others? Besides, it was worth it to hear how happy Jenna was for me. Ever since she found love with Marty, she’s been desperate for me to find the same thing with someone. I haven’t got the heart to tell her it's unlikely to ever happen.
I shudder.
She’s right. He really kind of is. And I’ve been such an arsehole to him. Ugh. Something else to feel shit about.
I type back before I can stop myself.
I laugh and sniff. This is helping me feel a bit better at least.
I put my phone down and am about to loosen the laces on my trainers because my feet are still throbbing when I hear a voice, Rami’s voice, boom out of the speakers.
“The next song is a special dedication. Very special indeed, because it’s for my boyfriend, Jake Forester. Yes, him sitting over there in the corner. It’s Michael Jackson’sP.Y.T.and I’m playing this for him because that’s exactly what he is, a Pretty Young Thing.”
As the song’s opening bars play, every single wedding guest turns to look at me and many start gesturing for me to join them on the dance floor, but I’m frozen. Frozen in shock at what Rami just said, and at the song he chose for me. I stay frozen as I watch Rami leave his booth and start walking up the side of the dance floor towards me, a microphone in his hand.
“Seeing as he refuses to dance, I’ll have to be a bit more persuasive,” Rami is saying before he hands over the mic to Lionel who just happens to be standing close by.
Immediately at the start of the first verse, Rami starts lip-synching every word and dancing, expertly dancing. His feet cross over one another, his fingers click and his head rocks from side to side as he sings and approaches me. Everybody behind him claps and whoops, cheering him on.
And I should be doing the same. Or I should be doing something, anything, but right now I am still frozen, still utterly incapable of moving as I watch Rami do a very Michael-Jackson-esque twirl that ends with a head dip and the grab of his crotch with one hand while the other tips an imaginary hat.
The show continues as Rami sings along with the chorus, inching still closer to me, although he detours and dances with Lionel’s parents briefly. This goes some way to help melt my frozen state and as soon as I reclaim control over my mouth, I’m smiling. No, that’s an understatement. I’m laughing. But not at him. God, no. I’m laughing with everyone else who is cheering him on, copying his moves, and shaking their bodies in the background. And they are in the background, because as the song launches into the second verse, my eyes are only on Rami who is right in front of me and…
Oh my God, is he moonwalking?
