Nobody Wants To Know Him

XL - I Don't Wanna Be A Soldier Mama

Sunday 17th June 1973
Liverpool, England
4.03pm

The walk back to the car was quiet; neither of us said a word. When we did reach the car, John immediately buckled his seatbelt and turned to face the window of the passenger seat, hiding away from my gaze. I kept the keys in my hand, not starting the car, and placed the other on John's right arm. He didn't react, but whether that was a good thing or not, I couldn't be sure.

"What happened, John?"

It was a question that needed to be asked because, at present, what I knew was very little.

"Nothing happened," he emphasised, voice coming out in a harsh whisper.

"Alright," I whisper back, gentler, rubbing my finger along his arm. "We can talk later."

"No we fucking won't," he spat, eyes still locked outside. I kept my mouth shut after that, figuring it would be best, and drove back to Mimi's. When John wasn't in the mood to talk, he wasn't in the mood to talk, and that was final.

Whatever was said while I had stepped out of the room had taken a serious toll, and I felt slightly guilty for having left in the meanwhile.

The drive back to Mimi's was short, and nothing was said. John was drumming his fingers along the handle of the door restlessly, occasionally fidgeting and squirming in his seat as if he had something to say but couldn't bring himself to say it.

The white Rolls was still in the drive when I pulled Mimi's car up beside it.

"Head over to the car. I'll just hand these keys back to yer aunt and I'll be there in a mo'."

John, in response, grumbled something to himself before hauling his body out and slamming the door harshly behind him, making his way to our own car like a stroppy child. His behaviour when upset always resembled one, and if the situation at hand wasn't serious, I would have been either amused or irritated.

I knocked at Mimi's door and almost immediately it opened, the same seemingly permanent stern expression written across her face.

"Yer... your keys," I smiled fondly, passing them to her. "Thank you. For the car... and the meal."

"I suppose I should be thanking you, _____."

I shook my head. "I don't care for John because I want to be thanked, Mrs Smith."

At my words, I watched as the corner of her mouth twitched, eyes glossing over slightly.

"Still. Thank you. Really."

Nodding, I replied, "Of course."

"Where was he?"

"The cemetery. Just as you suggested. Sent me on a wild goose chase, he did."

There was a nod of understanding from Mimi, and her eyebrows furrowed together. What was it that made John run to his mother's grave? Sure, it may have just been for comfort, but it wasn't a short walk if one sought out consolation. After a small pause, I plucked up the courage to ask her.

"What... what happened?"

"Has John not told you?" I shook my head. "Then I think it best if you wait until he tells you. He wouldn't like it if I told you it from my perspective first, and especially so in this case." She frowned and looked deeply into my eyes, her gaze so pentrating and full of emotion, emotion so strong that I was consciously trying not to recoil under it. "Do look after him, alright?"

"I... yes. Of course," I said decidedly, straightening my back even though I didn't realise my body had sagged.

"Go on then. Before he gets angry because we're having a chinwag."