The Benefit of Mr. Kite

11

YEAR: 1978

•Michelle's POV•

I slowly hung the phone up, and just stood in the middle of the living room, in awe.

Why would he want to see me?
What does he want?
How did he find me?

Thoughts continued to surge through my mind as I paced back and forth around the house. Eventually, John found me, having a panic attack. He walked in, lightly grabbed onto my arms, and made me look at him.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked.
"Papa called me..."
"What did he want?"
"He didn't say," I whispered. "He wants me to have dinner with him when he comes to town... John, I don't want to go," my eyes started tearing up.
"Then don't go..."
"Then he'll show up to the house, and I don't know what to do," I cried.
"Want me to go with you?"
"No... I don't know if you've noticed, but we'll be speaking French."
"So?"
"John, you yell at me when I say oui or merci. You'd never be able to tolerate a whole conversation. Plus, who would watch the boys?"
"Anna could watch them."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because she hates me."
"She doesn't hate you," John insisted.
"Yes, she does," I said.
"You're one of the nicest people I've ever met. Why on earth would she hate you?"
"Because... I spoke to her, before we started dating, and she said that she had a thing for you... Then, when we got married, she just seemed very bitter towards me..."
"I'm sure she's not," he said.
"If you say so..."

***

A few days passed, and before I knew it, I was sitting in the middle of a fancy restaurant, waiting for my father. I took a sip of water, every once in a while, as I patiently waited for him.

"Bonjour chérie," I heard someone say behind me. I stood up from my chair, straightened my dress out, and gave him a fake smile.
"Bonjour papa," I greeted.
"Comment avez-vous été?" (How have you been?)
"Papa, pourrions-nous s'il vous plaît parler anglais?" (Papa, could we please speak English?)
"Pourquoi?" (Why?)
"Parce que... Je ne veux pas plus parler français..." (Because... I don't want to speak French anymore...)
"Oh... d'accord..." he cleared his throat. "How have you been, chérie?"
"Very well... thank you..."
"I see you got married," he smiled. "Congratulations."
"Merci," I whispered.
"Is it that John fellow?"
"Oui... I actually adopted his boys as well..."
"So, what you're telling me, is that your mother and I have grandchildren?"
"Well... yeah... I guess..."
"I know you're not crazy about me, but would you be willing to let me meet them?"
"My kids?"
"Yes."
"I don't know," I sighed.
"What are their names?"
"Julian and Sean."
"How old are they?"
"Jules is fifteen and Sean is three."
"Wow... big age gap..."
"Well, they have different moms, if that helps."
"I personally don't care, seeing how you and your sister are a good twenty years apart."
"How is Sally?" I asked.
"She's doing well," he said. "She misses you... We all mis you..."
"What is she doing now?"
"Well, she was going to do your act, but since she hasn't done it in fifteen years, she thought it'd be better if her daughter did it. Sal's the lion tamer now," he said. "She does well... hasn't been mauled yet."
"That's always good," I giggled.
"We miss you, chérie..."
"I miss you guys too..."
"Then why'd you leave?"
"I didn't want to be a freak anymore... I just wanted out..."
"Then why didn't you tell us that? We would have understood."
"But papa, even if I quit, I'd still just be Michelle from Kite's Circus, and I didn't want that. Even when I first got here, that's all I was..."
"Now you're Michelle, John Lennon's wife."
"Yeah," I laughed. "Huge improvement, in my opinion."
"Well, I don't think so. Then again, the cirque is all I have."
"I understand..."

We had a mediocre meal, at an unreasonable price, but neither of us cared. We made small talk, and I, for the first time in three years, felt reconnected with my family. I have to admit, I'm starting to miss them.

"I must say, papa, this has been a rather pleasant time."
"Michelle, I come around about once every four months. By any chance, would you be willing to have a meal with me, and just catch up?"
"Y'know what? I'd actually like that," I smiled.
"It's been fun, Michelle. I'll call you when I'm in town again. Au revoir chérie."
"Papa..." I said.
"Oui?"
"By any chance, would you like to meet my kids?"
"I would love that," he beamed. "Show me the way."

***

"John!" I called. "I'm home!" No response. "John Winston Lennon! Where are you?" No response. "Julian!"
"Yeah?" he mumbled, walking into the corridor. "Who's that?" he pointed to papa.
"That's not important right now. Where's your father?"
"His study. Why?"
"Could you please get him?"
"Yeah, sure," he said.
"Thanks," I said, patting his arm as he ran upstairs.
"Mum," Sean whined.
"What's wrong hun?" I asked as I picked him up.
"I tired..."
"It's only eight o'clock, bub, how are you tired?"
"He's been running about all day," John said. "How was dinner?"
"It was fine," I said.
"Who's this?" he asked.
"Oh yeah," I cleared my throat. "Boys, this is my father. Papa, these are my boys."
"Hi," Jules mumbled.
"Hmm," Sean huffed, digging his face into the crook of my neck.
"You're Mr. Kite?" John asked.
"Oui," papa grinned. "Bonjour Monsieur Lennon."
"What is he saying?" John asked.
"He's saying hello, John."
"Oh... Michelle, may I speak with you for a minute?"
"Sure," I said. John and I walked into the living room; Sean was still dozing off on my hip. "What's up?"
"What are you doing? I thought you hated your father?"
"I did..."
"Then what happened?"
"We spoke, caught up, and I realized, without all the constant yelling, and pressure of the performances he's a very kind man. Please, give him a chance..."
"Darling, less than three hours ago you hated him!"
"I understand that-"
"Michelle-"
"John, be nice," I said, heading back into the corridor.  "Sorry 'bout that papa," I said.
"Oh, it's quite alright," he said. "Now, John is it?"
"Yes, sir," John grumbled, shaking his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too, I guess."
"I'm going to presume that you've only heard good things," papa teased. "I'm kidding," he laughed. "I know how Michie feels about me."
"Papa, don't call me that," I blushed.
"Sorry chérie."
"What does that mean?" John asked.
"What?" I chuckled. "Chérie?"
"Yeah..."
"It means darling," I said.
"Oh..."
"Well, it's getting late. Jules, get ready for bed, I'm gonna go put Sean to bed. Papa, it was nice seeing you again," I said as I hugged him. "Call me when you get home. I'll see you upstairs, John."
"Au revoir Michelle," papa waved as I headed up the stairs.
"Great, goodbye, Mr-"
"Look here, Lennon," papa started. "I love my little girl with all my heart, and she seems to like your boys, and you, with all of hers. She's happy here... I haven't seen here happy in a long, long time... I don't ever want to see her upset again. Don't mess up a good thing for her... I know you're known for cheating on women and leaving them... If I ever find out that you do such a horrendous thing to my Michelle, I will have you dead. Do you understand, Lennon?"
"Yes sir..." John whispered.
"Good," papa smirked. "Nice talking to you. Au revoir, Monsieur Lennon."