Outtake: The Chat #JohnandLucian #FreeRead
It's outtake day, and I picked one from the request pool for this week (although I have been picking from there for a while now). Someone asked to see the phone call between a young John and his father from A Very Marcello Christmas when Lucian was in prison. So, that is what you get to see today.
For those who are asking for John + Siena outtakes, that will come in a couple of weeks after John and Siena have been out in the world for a while.
A Lucian Outtake
Johnathan ignored the banging on his bedroom door, and continued to stare out the window where someone had left his curtains opened.
“Get up, John!”
His mother kept hammering.
John kept staring.
The snow was coming down in heavy flakes, now. Not that it fucking mattered. Usually, he liked winter, and the holidays. Christmas was right around the corner, which meant presents, and time with his family. He kind of liked that, too.
Except not so much this year.
Not at all.
He thought to shout back at his mother, to tell her to leave him the hell alone, but didn’t bother to even open his mouth. It wouldn’t do him any good, really. And he knew the truth—his mother was having just as rough as the rest of the people in his house.
Maybe more so.
It was just his dad in jail, after all.
It was her husband.
John rolled to his back when his mother finally stopped beating on his door, and stared up at the ceiling. He kind of wished it would swallow him whole, and then maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with the day at all. Not his mother who looked sad all the time, or his sisters who constantly asked for their dad, or when Lucian was coming home.
He hated the way the teachers at school knew about his problems at home without even needing to be told. So was the way of their life—being a crime family had downfalls. Like your fucking business being all over the goddamn news.
John didn’t like it.
It was only when his full bladder made itself known did John finally push out of bed, and pad into the connecting bathroom. Like his bedroom, the bathroom was dark, too.
He preferred it like that.
Didn’t like the light.
Especially not in the mornings.
Once he was done in the bathroom, he shot a glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand only to see why his mother had been so constant on trying to get him up. He forgot to set it again—they were probably going to be late for school again.
So, he’d miss homeroom.
It was only the sound of his mother’s voice in the hallway—and not yelling for him—that made John edge closer to his bedroom door.
“Okay, that was a little sad,” he heard his mother say.
John’s brow furrowed.
Who was she talking to?
Definitely not one of his little sisters.
And then John heard, “Let’s not do that, Lucian.”
He knew, then.
She was talking to his dad.
John didn’t even think about the fact he really just wanted to hide away in his bedroom for as long as he possibly could anymore. Not when the chance to talk to his father was practically dangling in front of his face. He didn’t get to talk to his dad nearly enough since Lucian had gotten arrested, and hauled off to jail.
Damn, John hated cops.
Especially for taking his dad away.
Pushing open the bedroom door, John moved into the hallway behind his mother who was holding Cella under her arm, and the phone in her other hand.
“Hey,” he said, “that’s Dad?”
His mother spun fast on her heel to face him, making Cella’s head full of curls spin in every direction. The relief in his mother’s eyes when her gaze landed on him kind of made John feel like crap. Or maybe that was guilt.
It was all interchangeable, he was learning.
Maybe he shouldn’t have given her such a hard time about getting up. And maybe … just maybe … he had been given his mother a hard time ever since his dad got taken away. It wasn’t really that John meant to do that to his ma, but … everything sucked.
He missed his dad.
All the time.
“It is,” his ma said. “Do you want to talk to him?”
John’s father must have said something to his ma, because Jordyn said into the phone, “It’s all right, we have tomorrow.”
She handed the phone over, and John didn’t hesitate to snatch it from her grasp. As soon as he had the phone in his hand, he darted back into the safe darkness of his room. Before he could shut the door, though, he heard his mother call something else after him.
“Make sure you’re dressed before you hang up that phone, John.”
“Got it, Ma,” he called back.
Then, he let his door slam.
John put the phone to his ear, but he didn’t move to the dresser or the large closet that was practically another small room to get dressed. Instead, he pressed his back to the door, and put the phone to his ear. He swore his father must have heard him breathing because no sooner had he done that, then his father started talking.
“I miss you, my boy,” Lucian said.
John frowned. “Miss you, too, Papa.”
“You’re being good for your mother, right?”
He didn’t want to lie.
He didn’t want his dad to be pissed, either.
“Kind of,” John settled on saying.
“You gotta be good for her, John,” Lucian said. “She’s all alone right now, and trying to deal with all of you on her own. So, give her a little bit of a break, huh? Be good to your sisters, and eat your fucking vegetables. Whatever it takes. She wants you to do something you don’t want to do, then you just do it and give her a damn smile. And do you know why you do that?”
John sniffed a bit. “No.”
“Because you’re her son—her only son, John. She’s not ever going to have another, and certainly not one like you. You were the first baby she ever got to hold, and love. Do you think she wants that boy of hers to give her trouble all the damn time?”
“Exactly. Be good for her, all right?”
“All right,” John mumbled.
“I’m sorry,” his father added after a moment.
“Being here, I guess. In here, and not there. First Christmas without me, and I bet you’re feeling it, too.”
To say the least …
John didn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to hurt his father, either.
“I know you’re having a hard time with all of this, John,” Lucian added. “With me not being home, I mean.”
“A little,” John agreed.
“But I will be soon.”
“Not soon enough,” he mumbled.
Lucian chuckled. “Yeah, it’s never going to be soon enough, I know.”
“Miss you, Papa.”
He’d already told him that.
He figured he should say it again.
“Love you, my boy,” Lucian countered.
John smiled. “Yeah, that, too. I guess.”
Lucian scoffed. “You wound me, son.”
“Only a little, though.”
“And don’t you ever change, either.”