Nobody Wants To Know Him

XLIV - My Mummy's Dead

Wednesday 27th June 1973
Liverpool, England

The day after John's first therapy session, he was, shockingly, in a grand mood. He woke up before I did, and by the time I had made my way downstairs, he'd cooked a full English breakfast for the both of us. I didn't think much of it at first, but as the morning progressed, it seemed John, who wasn't much of a morning person, was particularly chipper and talkative all the way through breakfast. He chatted about anything and everything, deep topics and more surface level ones. Practically anything he could fit into the time frame which breakfast occupied was discussed.

We didn't, however, discuss the therapy from yesterday. There wasn't a need for it, really. Everything he wanted to say had been said, and I didn't need to know everything that happened, nor did I want to. That was personal to John, and he could tell me what he liked.

I'm not sure he even noticed that he was in such a good mood. He was too busy talking and bumbling about the house to notice. It seemed he couldn't settle down the entire day, shuffling from one room to the next and babbling things through the house to me as he did so. This went on for the whole day, even when I dragged him out for a walk.

It was quite entertaining, actually, but I was also extremely glad to see him with his spirits so earnestly uplifted for a change.

______

Friday 29th June 1973

Later that week, the phone rung. It was probably Mimi. We both knew it. He hadn't spoken to her since we had been to her house, even if I suggested several times that he should either pick up the telephone or phone her himself. He didn't listen any of those times, of course. I was surprised that his aunt hadn't given up with calling and didn't decide just to wait until he came around himself, but she was as stubborn as her nephew, and I supposed a lifetime of living with John had left an impact.

Usually, he just made me answer the phone now in case it was her. It was beginning to grate on my nerves a little, but the phone didn't ring too often so I'd decided not to answer.

But this time, I was upstairs, and John was downstairs, and before I could reach the telephone, the ringing had stopped. Very well then, I thought. I finished up what I was doing upstairs, then headed down.

And when I entered the drawing room, I found John on the phone, back to the door and engaged in a heated conversation.

Huh.

I stood up straighter, and it seemed John sensed I was there because he turned his whole body around to face me, flashing me a tight-lipped smile. I moved over to the other sofa in the room and sat down, watching as John opened and closed his mouth to try and speak, but seemingly not able to get a word in.

"That doesn't change anything, and ye know it doesn't," he finally spoke, and it was clear he was aggravated. "I know ye apologised to her, but I'm still angry, and not just about that."

Okay, so if I wasn't certain who he was talking to before, I was now.

There was a small pause before he continued, "Of course it's about that! I don't know why ye think ye can just go and bring her up in an argument like she's just a tool against me!"

There was bickering heard from the other line, and I watched with a concerned look as he spat into the telephone.

This went back and forth for a while, him repeating the same things over and over, and Mimi seemingly trying to justify herself. At least that's what it looked like.

Eventually, John just sighed and looked down at his left hand, the one that wasn't holding the phone. "That's all I wanted ye to say. But of course yer never wrong. Ye only admit it when it won't go yer way otherwise. No, that's not- No. I'm still not happy, but alright. Yeah, it's been long enough."