John Francis

Carol was sitting at her desk in the study of her home going over lists and plans for her son’s party the following night. She had rented out the BLT Market restaurant at the Ritz, arranging rooms for those who would be staying overnight after flying in and making sure that some of Jon’s favorite foods would be served.

She answered her phone distractedly.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom.” She heard Jon’s voice answer.

“Jon! Hi honey, what’s going on?” Carol checked off another item on one of her many note sheets as Jon spoke.

“Mom, did you call Amanda and tell her about the party tomorrow?” That brought Carol’s attention fully to her phone conversation as the truth was she was so frustrated with the lack of information from the PI she had hired that she had tried to put Amanda out of her thoughts.

Taking a breath, she answered her son.

“Jon, I’m sorry, I don’t think I did. I’ve been so busy, sweetie, with everything I think I forgot to call her. I think I thought you would tell her.” Carol made sure her tone of voice was contrite and she sighed out of earshot when Jon replied.

“I thought something like that might have happened. Don’t worry about it, mom. And thanks for doing everything.”

Smiling to herself, Carol finished the call, pleased that Jon had accepted her word. She actually had forgotten to call Amanda, but wasn’t surprised as she tried to think about her as little as possible.

Spending the remainder of her afternoon on the phone with caterers and a few of the many high profile guests who had been invited, Carol again wondered what it was about her son that made him not fully embrace the life he had earned for himself. With the right wife she felt there was no limit to what her son could achieve.

Congressman Jon Bongiovi.

Senator Jon Bongiovi.

Ambassador Jon Bongiovi.

A smile crossed her face as she contemplated what seemed to be the unlimited future for her eldest son.

Why not? If that actor, Schwarzenegger, can become governor of California, why not Jon?

Why not my son?

She had always believed Jon could do anything.

He just needs the right push.

The right wife.

She scribbled another note, this time to call the investigator after Jon’s birthday.

~~~

Amanda brought the packages into the house and carried them upstairs. The house was quiet and on her return to the kitchen she realized Jon and Richie were probably still in the studio. As Linda had weekends off, she called the men. A few words later, Richie let her know they had not yet eaten lunch and told them it would soon be ready.

They came in half an hour later still talking about the latest song they were working on. Grabbing drinks, the two men sat down to the sandwiches and chips Amanda had made. She joined them, listening quietly until Richie turned towards her.

“You packed for London?” He took a mouthful of his food. “Good sandwich.”

Smiling at his enthusiastic bite, Amanda answered.

“Yeah, all packed except for a few last things.” She shot Jon a look.

“You don’t own this plane, do you?”

He grinned around his own bite of food, finally have to settle for shaking his head no. Swallowing a sip of ice cold beer, he picked up a few chips as he caught her eye again.

“If it doesn’t say ‘Bon Jovi’ on the side, it isn’t mine.”

Something in the matter of fact way he spoke caused laughter to bubble up into Amanda’s voice.

“I’m not getting a tattoo that says ‘Bon Jovi’, Jon.”

Both men turned surprised eyes on her until the idea of tattoo’s on their women hit them and they started to laugh with her.

Feeling this was a good time to bring up the party the next day, Jon gave a last chuckle and spoke.

“I talked to mom this morning and she said she thought I was telling you about the party. I’m sorry I didn’t do that ‘cause I was thinking she would call you.”

“It’s all good, Jon.” Amanda nodded at him. “Sounds like it’s going to be great.”

He smiled then, a little relief mingled into it. “Yeah, mom does a great job with this kind of thing.”

Richie listened to this exchange, noticing how Jon took the blame on himself instead of sharing it with his mother. He wondered if in the long run this was the best thing to do.

~~~

Amanda spent the remainder of the afternoon going through the suitcase she had packed for their trip to London the day after Jon’s birthday. Somehow nothing she’d packed seemed right. Throwing down a pair of shoes in disgust at her indecision, she sat heavily in one of the chairs beside a large window.

Staring out at the snow-covered grounds of the home, she curled one leg underneath her as her mind wandered. For a reason she couldn’t yet find, the news of the party set against her own meager plans chafed. She didn’t begrudge Jon a party, but felt that she should have known somehow that he would have one. She realized that just because her family had always celebrated birthdays within the family, other people threw parties. And someone like Jon knew a lot of people.

Inadequate.

That was the feeling. She felt inadequate. How was she supposed to be a part of his life, his wife for god’s sake, if she couldn’t shake the small town girl? Her stomach gave a sudden roll, bringing her feet to the floor and her body poised to move. She sat there, willing the nausea to fade.

Stop it! You’ll learn. Stop making yourself sick over this!

Her stomach calmed and the moment passed, although a vague queasiness remained. The next hour was spent re-packing her suitcase and putting away the clothes she had discarded. With renewed determination she made herself be satisfied with her choices and closed the closet door. Giving a self-satisfied nod at the restored bedroom, she made her way downstairs.

There was no sign of the men and Amanda set about getting dinner ready for that evening. The chores of cutting up, mixing, measuring and heating took her mind off the fact that her stomach still did not feel all that well.

It never occurred to her that her nausea could be from something else.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Holidays!