things that go bump in the night part 2: john lennon and carroll lennon
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a follow up to this
“When I was seventeen my mum was hit by a car.” John abruptly stated. “A drunken off duty police officer was the one who’d done it. He got away with it.” He bitterly stated. “So, I know how you feel. I do.” He picked up the pack of cigarettes again and this time he slipped one between his thin lips. “Despite whatever your mum told you. I’m not all that bad.”
Carroll frowned and crossed her arms over her flat chest. “She didn’t say anything bad about you.” She shot back. Her desire to defend her mother and her memory strong against what John was implying.
He snorted to himself. John found it hard to believe that Annette hadn’t said at least one cross thing about him. He knew he deserved it. But, he also knew Annette wasn’t the type to throw stones. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Just because you do it doesn’t mean she did.” She quickly replied.
John pulled the unlit cigarette from his mouth. The girl had a point. “I did a lot of…not nice things, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” She smartly replied.
Maybe, he should’ve let Michael have her but he couldn’t go back now, could he? Especially when he’d fought hard to have her with him. “Go to bed, Carroll.” He tiredly stated.
She didn’t listen to him. She continued to stand there and opened her mouth to speak but she considered what she wanted to say first. “I asked mom once, why she wasn’t angry with you.”
He wanted not to care but his body tensed up with what his daughter would say next. Her tongue was as sharp as his had been at her age.
“She said, “I feel sad for him.” Carroll had committed those words to memory.
John shook his head. He suddenly felt quite annoyed with his former lover. He didn’t need or desire her pity. Hell, he’d treated her shabbily when he’d taken up with his now wife and she was the one who felt sorry for him? He wouldn’t have been sympathetic if the roles were reversed.
“Why are you angry at her?” Carroll bluntly asked.
“I’m not angry at her.” He snapped. It’d been a knee jerk reaction. This kid was just too perceptive and straightforward. The oldest one, Julian was quiet and timid. At times John had found that to be a bit annoying but right about now he would’ve welcomed that sort of behavior to his middle child’s directness.
She was fearless to a point but she knew when to stop. Even if she wanted to continue with her line of questioning. “Goodnight, John.”
John. It made something inside of his snap in half. He jumped out of his chair and strode across the kitchen. He wasn’t thinking properly and roughly grabbed her arm. “It’s dad. Not John. I’m your father. Not Michael. It’d do you good to remember that when you speak to me.” He spat out and leaned down to stare into her in the eyes.
It was the first time she was ever really frightened of him. She wasn’t use to being handled this way not by her mom or by Michael. She wanted to burst into tears. This isn’t where she belonged and she struggled to jerk out of his grasp. “I want to go home.” She shouted and the tears were welling up in her eyes of her own accord. She was just a kid and she wanted her mom to be alive and go back to the life she knew.
“This is your home.” He continued to hold her arm.
“It’s not. I hate it here. I hate everything. I hate you, John.”
Before he could properly think, he’d raised his hand and given her a smack across the face. He was stunned by what he’d done. His hand stung with the impact and he didn’t want to think about how badly her face must hurt. His grip on her arm slackened and she ran out out of the kitchen.