The Gift of Girls

Chapter Thirteen: John

It was the night before Christmas Eve and it looked like I'd be spending it alone - accompanied by my soft footie pyjamas, an immense amount of junk food, and an empty hole in my heart. That may sound over dramatic but it's how I genuinely felt. It seemed like my entire world was crumbling around me.

Here's the weird bit: I didn't know why I was feeling this way.

I was already over Jodie and her crazy cat collection, so why did it feel like an empty void had made a home in my heart? I couldn't understand it. It played on my mind all of that long pre-Christmas Eve. Most of my time was taken up by skulking on the couch and generally feeling sorry for myself. Everyone else in the flat was full of beans, rushing around and keeping themselves busy. Even little Serenity was helping with Christmas preparations.

I watched her and George hang all the new decorations (bought by Paul the day before) on the already overflowing tree. George held Serenity as she tried to place a glittery fairy doll on one of the branches. She seemed more interested in playing with the doll, making it fly through the air like a little bomber jet.

"No, Serenity," said George. "Hang the dolly on the tree, please."

Serenity completely ignored him and carried on playing with the fairy.

"Serenity, please do as you're told," George said sharply.

"No!" Serenity retorted, clutching the fairy doll close to her chest. "My dolly!"

"She's a decoration, not a toy." George then tried to take the fairy away from Serenity. She began shrieking and flailing her arms like a beached octopus. I watched with amusement.

"She's not going to give up, Geo," I called from the couch. "You'd better leave her alone and let her play with that fairy doll."

George glared at me. "Hey, she's my daughter. She answers to me, thanks very much."

"Doesn't look like it," I commented, nodding pointedly at Serenity, who was still yelling.

"Yeah, well, she's overtired. She didn't have a sleep this morning."

I nodded just to humour him. "Sure, sure."

"Look, John," George said, slinging a grizzly Serenity over his shoulder and walking over to me. "What's with you? You've been awfully... exasperating lately."

I shrugged. "Have I been exasperating?"

"Let me see," George said, pretending to think. "Oh, yes! I remember! You told Ringo his Christmas cookies tasted like dog mess. You made Paul cry by telling him his new jumper made him look fat. Now you're telling me how to raise my daughter!"

"That's what you call exasperating?" I said flatly.

"Honestly, Johnny, if you're going to be a pain, then why don't you go and do it somewhere else?"

I frowned at him. "Stop acting like such a father figure," I snapped.

"Can't help it," George retorted. "I am a father, and I'm a hell of a lot more mature than you'll ever be. You can just push off and peddle your insults somewhere else."

"Fine," I said, getting to my feet. "I will!"

"Fine! Go!"

I stuck my finger up at George and stormed out of the flat, slamming the door behind me. I heard something land with a thud and a crash from inside. Paul started screaming and swearing, so a picture must have fallen off the wall and broken into a million pieces. I couldn't be bothered with anything trivial like that.