John Francis

One cold shower later, two cups of strong black coffee, and near a quarter pack of cigarettes had Jon staring at his mother.

“Jon…say something!” Carol’s voice rose slightly as she looked at her son.

She had told him.

Everything.

And he just stared at her.

Frozen.

Then he looked down at the envelope she had given him.

The one with everything inside that he thought Amanda had taken.

He had been played alright, but not by the person he thought.

Carol looked at her husband and at Richie, but both men were eyeing Jon, watching him, both of them knowing that underneath stubbornness lived a temper Richie had just experienced and John had just watched.

Jon’s mind tumbled over itself, thoughts coming faster than he could hold onto them, his mother’s words tumbling like loose boulders, striking each other and throwing off new thoughts until his head roared from the avalanche.

He lowered his head as tears only half from anger filled his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Jon…I’m --” Carol’s voice wound down as her son raised his eyes to meet hers.

Carol gasped, her heart giving a sharp jolt.

Such pain. Such rage. At her.

Jon shook his head slightly as he continued to look at her. He spoke, his voice hollow, as if the emotions were draining out of him, leaving an empty core.

“How am I supposed to forgive you for this?” He asked. “I love her and now she’s gone. Because of you.”

His mother just looked at him as tears spilled from her eyes.

“Why, mom? Why did you do this?”

Struggling to find her voice, crying openly now, Carol answered her son.

“I wanted better for you.”

Jon’s mouth dropped open, then closed only to let out a roar.

“You WHAT?!”

His chair scraped loudly as he abruptly stood up from the table, no longer able to sit quietly as he listened. He moved to the door of the kitchen, then turned back to face his mother who was looking at him as his sudden rage seemed to simmer in the air.

“You wanted…you wanted..better for me? What was better?” He stood across from her, hands on hips as he waited for her to answer.

“She came from nothing, Jon. She’s -- she’s a --” her voice trailed off as Jon’s lip curled in disgust.

“She’s a nobody, right, Ma? Isn’t that it?”

“Jon -- you, your success, your influence -- you could do anything, go as high as you wanted to --” She stopped when John put his hand across her arm.

“When is it going to be enough, Mom? When will I be successful enough for you?” Jon shook his head, his mouth hard with his anger.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it to you, I don’t want to be in politics! God dammit, Mom! You did this for your ambitions, not mine.” Jon pounded his fist on the table in front of her, anger rising as he realized just why she had done it.

His voice tight and hard, stabbed with every word.

“Listen closely. Don’t ever bring this up again. Don’t ever speak to me about what you want me to do.”

Carol nodded, but her mouth tightened just a little in defiance, from years of getting her own way -- eventually.

Jon’s eyes narrowed as he looked from her to his father. John’s head cocked slightly to the side and he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. Permission was given.

“I promise you, you don’t want to test me on this --” Jon’s voice trailed off.

“Jon, I --” Carol began, then stopped abruptly as Jon held up his hand.

“No, we’re done here. Done.”

He started at her, the full force of his blue eyes and the chips of ice they could turn into now turned to her.

“I’m going to find Amanda and I’m going to beg her to give me another chance.”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, then stopped as Jon didn’t give her a chance to do more than draw in a breath.

“When I do--” Jon’s jaw tightened as he stared into his mother’s eyes, “--don’t ask me to choose between her and you--“

Carol’s eyes widened as Jon held her with an iron stare.

“Because I won’t choose you.”