John Francis

“I left a message.” Carol called out to John in the other room.

She heard him closing the refrigerator.

“We’ll wait a bit, then call back.” John said, as he brought her a cup of coffee.

Carol took the cup gratefully. They both sat silently, sipping the hot liquid, thinking their own thoughts as they waited for Richie to return the call.

John cleared his throat and Carol looked up at him, startled out of her thoughts.

“You have to tell Jon everything, Carol,” John said, peering at her closely.

She grimaced. “He says he knows.”

John arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know what he knows. Part of making this right is you talking to our son and telling him everything.”

Pain shot across her face. She knew Jon loved her, but she feared what she would lose when he learned what she had done.

“I’m going to try Richie again,” she said.

~~~

Finally starving, Trish and Richie had just sat down for an early dinner at their favorite local place.

“Everything!” Trish said, laughing as she answered Richie’s ‘what do you want to eat?’ question.

Richie grinned and nodded, teasing her by handing the menu to the waitress and saying, “Just bring it ALL!”

“Stop, you fool!” Trish said when she was able to slow down her giggles.

They settled back in the booth after ordering, a comfortable silence between them. Both were coming down from their earlier giddiness at finding they agreed on the baby and the excitement of that future.

Trish, for her part, had no expectation that Richie would ask her to marry him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t that type of man, but that he was who he was. No matter how he was with her, Richie was a celebrity, and a very rich celebrity at that. She was sure he had a team of lawyers - or at the very least Bon Jovi did - to make sure no one took advantage of him.

All she wanted was for him to take an interest in their child. To be there when he could as their child was growing up. From how he had acted earlier, she now believed he would be there and she was content.

Richie, silent on his side of the table, had a thousand thoughts running through his head. He was relieved Trish wasn’t seriously ill, thrilled she was pregnant, terrified she was pregnant, elated she was pregnant, and scared shitless she was pregnant. He kept hearing the word “pregnant” in his head like the boom of Tico’s drums.

BOOM!

She’s PREGNANT!

BOOM! BOOM!

Trish is PREGNANT!

BRRRIIIIIING! BRRRIIIIIGG!

Richie blinked, wondering why the booms had turned to rings. He glanced around, still in a bit of daze, finally realizing the sound was coming from his cell phone ringing, vibrating against the table.

“Hello?”

“Richie? It’s Carol.”

“Hey there! What’s going on?” Richie asked.

“I need to ask you something.” Carol replied.

“Sure.”

“Did you tell Jon?”

Richie’s eyes widened. “No, I did not.”

“He knows, Richie,” Carol said. “He called me just a little while ago. Said he knew what I’d done.”

“Carol, I haven’t told him.” Richie replied.

Her voice lowered as she spoke. “I didn’t think so, Richie … because he said I did him a favor.”

Richie actually took the phone away from his ear and looked at it incredulously. He quickly put it back.

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t tell him anything.” Richie said, his voice drawing out as he tried to think how Jon had learned about Amanda.

“Carol, will you meet me at the house?” Richie asked.

“When do you want to go?”

“Right now.”

~~~

Jon sat at his bar, sipping yet another glass of wine.

A pile of papers sat in front of him, spread out over the marble bar top. Jon was idly shuffling through the report from Davidson Investigations when he saw a handwritten note on the back of one of the sheets he had missed before.

It was Richie’s writing; Jon would have known that no matter what was written.

Mark Russell - Amanda’s ex-husband

Fabulous You Photography
4187 Hacienda Lane
Las Angeles

323-555-8027

For Jon


Jon blinked, then turned the page over, then back again. His vision blurred slightly, making the words appear to swim on the page.

Amanda’s ex-husband.

Ex-husband.

Ex.

A moment later, a phone in Los Angeles began to ring.

~~~

After Amanda ate some of the fresh fruits Mrs. Christopoulos had provided, she unpacked a few items, changed into cooler clothes, and sat with a glass of wine on the outside terrace. The sea air blew her hair softly around her face. The sun was warm that afternoon but even that could not seem to reach into the deep cold inside her. Other than the few minutes in that hotel room in California with Richie, she had not cried. She couldn’t cry and she couldn’t understand why not.

Her thoughts would drift and a dim crack would start to appear in her frozen emotions and then she would slap up another coat of ice and lock them away. Sounds drifted up from other homes and soon smells of many different meals brought her attention to the passing of time. She finally rose when her skin goose-bumped from the cooling air. The wine had caused a pleasant lethargy to flow through her limbs and she thought she just might be able to sleep.

She would have been surprised to learn that she cried when she dreamed.