The Nearest To My Heart -John Lennon Fan Fiction - Paul McCartney Fan Fiction - Beatles Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty - Three Of Hearts

John sat at the top of the stairs out on the private terrace of his maisonette. The overcast weather reflected his dark mood, confessing what he felt for Charlie made John feel vulnerable, embarrassed, and hurt that she didn't return his feelings. 

He laughed mirthlessly and ruffled the back of his hair. He saw the irony of the situation. The woman's fervent adoration he desired was indifferent towards him. John took a long drag off of his cigarette.

He blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air. A contemplative look appeared on John's face. He thought of the time he'd spent with Charlie. She'd never given him any indication that the seriousness of his feelings was reciprocated. His optimism that Charlie felt the same was based on their physical chemistry. She didn't return his feelings. John wanted to upset Charlie for hurting him. He stood up, finishing off his cigarette and flicked it down the staircase. He wasn't ready to face the unpleasantness of the day ahead of him, but he had no choice in the matter.

(----)

John stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

Cynthia was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She was unaware of her husband's presence.

John knew his wife was a good woman. She took care of him, Julian, and their home. Cynthia seemed to enjoy it. John didn't understand how she derived satisfaction from it. He wanted to devote himself to his wife and son, but his attempts to do so in the past were halfhearted at best.

She jumped back, startled by John's presence. "You gave me a good scare." Cynthia laughed embarrassedly. "I didn't hear you come in."

John smiled, wanting to try at that moment to be a better husband and father. It was a feeling he'd had many times before, but it never managed to stick. It only seemed to occur to him when he was feeling hung up. "Julian's asleep?" He noted their son's lack of presence and was secretly relieved. John didn't have the patience to tolerate a fussy baby that morning.

Cynthia motioned for her husband to sit at the table. She poured John a cup of tea and placed it on the table in front of him. "I wasn't able to get him down until late last night. Thankfully he's sleeping in." She replied good-naturedly and resumed cooking breakfast.

John distractedly nodded, not bothering to add sugar to his mug. He blew on the hot tea and took a small sip. He watched Cynthia prepare breakfast, her motions steadfast. John reckoned that she'd done this enough for it to become second nature for her.

"How're you feeling about the show coming to an end?" Cynthia briefly looked at her husband over her shoulder. 

He'd gone into his head. His wife's presence slowly fading into the background as reality turned into fantasy.

"I'm having an affair," John whispered.

Cynthia's shoulders stiffened at the confession, but she continued to make breakfast. 

He raised his voice. "Didn't you hear me? I'm having it off with some other bird." He pushed aside his cup of tea and leaned forward on the table. 

John stared at Cynthia, wanting a reaction from her good or bad. He just needed to know that she was affected by his contemptible behavior.

Cynthia took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. "I did." She continued to cook breakfast.

John was stunned by her unfeeling response to his infidelity. "You don't care?" He felt a lump forming in his throat. He reached out for his teacup but didn't drink it.

"No," It was no longer Cynthia he was carrying on a conversation with, but Charlie. She turned to face him a look of thinly disguised contempt on her face.