Revealing Kane

20 - Concerned

I'm dreadfully worried about John. He's drinking often, and he seems so down. Is that because of me? Because of the baby? I don't want to force him into anything, but he tells me he loves me. Is he telling the truth? I mean, he did seem so relieved when we reunited. Has something changed? I love him so very much, but I would never want to make him unhappy.

It's been close to a month since John was pulled over in London for drunk driving. Today, he has to go to court to find out what his sentence will be. His lawyer has said it will definitely be a fine, and he could possibly lose his license. That could prove troublesome. How will we get around? Cabs? Maybe I should officially get my license and drive us.

I'm up before John, so I make our breakfast. Just eggs and toast, but it's enough to get us going. I've just started the kettle to make John coffee when he appears in the kitchen. He looks down like he so often does anymore.

"Hi, baby," I chirp as I approach him with my arms open.

I'm planning on hugging him, but he sidesteps me. Why did he do that? He's usually very accepting of my hugs. I turn and watch him in stunned shock as he sits at our little kitchen table. Well, he must be hungry. I bring his plate of food over and set it in front of him. He grunts a thank you and digs in without looking at me. What is going on?

The kettle starts its shrill whistle, and I startle. I hurry to it, turning it off and pouring the boiling water over the instant coffee crystals. I stir the liquid and then bring the mug over to John. I lean in to kiss his cheek, but he dodges me by reaching for the paper. Did he do that on purpose? Or was it an inconvenient coincidence? I'm not sure, but it's bothering me. I grab my plate and sit next to him.

I pick at my food, keeping my eyes on John and wondering what is wrong with him today. Maybe he's worried about court. He hasn't said much about it, but maybe he's concerned. In any case, I need to get him talking.

"John, are you okay?" I broach.

"Fine," he says around the mouthful of toast without looking at me. Again.

"Are you sure? You seem-"

"I'm fine," John says sharply as his eyes glare into mine.

"Okay," I quietly reply, dropping my eyes to avoid his angry stare.

This is not like John at all. He is usually so sweet and loving with me. Except when he's been drinking. Then he gets snappy and brash. Like he's being right now.

We finish our breakfast in silence, with John hunched over his plate and not looking at me while I worry. It's not possible that John had any alcohol this morning. And he wasn't out last night. So, is it possible that his anger stems from his court trial today? Sure. Very possible. But why should he take that out on me? I'm just concerned about him. That should make him feel good, right? To know I love him that much.

"What time do you need to leave?" I ask gently as I take our empty plates to the sink.

"In about an hour," John answers, his tone clipped and his eyes on the newspaper.

"Do you want me to come along for support?" I offer, wanting him to say yes.

"No, I do not," he says, just as tersely.

"John-"

"Allison, I don't know why you are mothering me so hard today, but will you stop it?" John snaps, his eyes meeting mine with a hard glare.

I recoil, uncertain of John's next action and mood. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes. I have to get away from him. His words have hurt me, but I don't want him to see me cry. I turn and bolt from the room, running up the stairs and into our bedroom. I slam the door and hurry to the bed, flopping onto it as I begin to cry. What is wrong with John, and why is he so angry with me? Have I done something wrong?

I feel such deep sorrow at the state John is in. He is definitely depressed, and I can't help but think it is because of me. Well, maybe not me as much as the baby. Even if he says he is ready to be a father and wants the baby, I'm not sure he really is. He's been a mess more often than not since we got back together. He says I make him happy, and he can't live without me, so what is wrong?

I hear the bedroom door open, so I try to contain my tears by sitting up. I keep my back toward the door as I wipe at my face. I hear a languid sigh but do not look at John. I can't. I know I'll see his sorrow, and it will break me.

"Allison?" John says, and his voice is full of concern and sadness. "Ally, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cross with you. I'm just... I know I'm a mess, and I know you see it. I don't want to disappoint you, but I know that's all I am-"

"No, you're not!" I hiss as I whirl around to look at him. "You're my true love and the father of this baby. You are not a disappointment. Not to me," I tell him with all the strength I can muster.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Al, but I know what I am," John says and shuffles toward the bathroom.

"John," I say, wanting to take away his uncertainty. "Please don't shut me out. I love you, and I want to help you in whatever way I can. Please let me love you out of this... This... funk."

John turns to me, and I want to cry at the sight of the sheer sorrow in his eyes. I tentatively get to my feet and approach him, hoping I can turn him around. He can't go to court looking like a mope.

"Give me your hand," I say as I reach for him.

John is sullen and quiet as I take my hand in his. I pull it towards the round of my belly. I flatten his palm on my stomach and push it into my side. I feel the baby flutter as it tries to escape the pressure and watch as John's eyes fill with tears.

"Do you feel it?" I whisper.

John lets out a small laugh of joy, and even as he tries to contain it, it makes his tears spill over and run down his cheeks.

"That's our baby," I add as I move closer to John.

John nods as he lowers his head to mine. We stand there, perfectly still, our foreheads touching as we both feel the life inside of me move.

"I love you, Allison," John whispers, and I move so I can kiss his forehead.

"I love you, John. And so does the baby. Remember us when you feel the melancholy coming on. We will love you forever. No matter what," I tell him, and he nods again. "Now. Do you want me to come with you for support?"

John shakes his head, and I go to argue, but he speaks before I can.

"It's not that I don't want you there. I don't want the press to bother you. Today is mine to handle. I appreciate your love and support, but I have to face this myself," he explains, and I begrudgingly agree. "But will you do me a favor?"

"Anything, my love," I immediately respond.

"Make my favorite dinner. I'm going to need some comfort food after," he tells me with his cheeky smile, and I laugh.

Maybe we're okay. Maybe we can get through this rough patch and into our future. And maybe my love is enough to fix John. I hope so. I don't want to lose him to anything. Not even himself.