Chapter 9

Jon sat silently in the back of the cab, thankful that he’d got a driver who didn’t want to talk, but was happy just to drive. Normally he enjoyed talking to cabbies, who always had stories to tell, but right now he needed to think.

His unfocused rage had dissipated, and he tried to think clearly about what to do. He’d be damned if he was going to start searching Dot’s closets for clues - it just wasn’t his style. Once she got home, and they got the kids settled down, he’d ask her about the phone call. He was pretty sure he’d be able to tell if she were lying to him, but then again, he’d believed her when she said she was going shopping with his mom, so maybe his antennae were a bit off when it came to her.

When the cab stopped outside the gates of his house, Jon just paid off the driver, getting out on the street. He let himself in through the gates, then walked slowly up the long driveway until he reached the house. As he approached the house, he saw Dot’s car parked off to one side, and he prayed he’d be able to control his temper if he found she was cheating on him in his own bed. Just before his fingers touched the door handle, it turned, and the door was pulled open from inside.

“Where’s your car?” Dot asked, confused.

“Oh, I got a cab back.” Jon replied. “I’d had a few drinks, and some painkillers, so I didn’t feel like driving. You’re back early.”

He walked into the house, and Dot closed the door behind him. Jon heard her draw a deep breath, then she spoke.

“Jon - we need to talk.”

Turning to face her, Jon smiled slightly “You think? What do we need to talk about?”

Dot walked past him, heading for the living room, her eyes pleading with him to follow her. They sat down, Jon taking a seat on the couch, while Dot sat on a nearby armchair. She swallowed nervously, but looked him straight in the eye as she spoke. Nobody had ever accused her of being a coward.

“Jon - I think you already know, but, well, I’ve been seeing someone else.”

There, it was out in the open, but Jon still could hardly believe it. He thanked his lucky stars that he was past the blind rage, meaning he was able to respond civilly enough, although with a chill in his voice.

“Well, yeah, I think that phone call earlier gave the game away. Would you have told me, though, if that hadn’t happened?”

Now Dot glanced away for a second. “Honestly? Yes, I think so. Maybe not right now, but soon. I love him, Jon.”

“I thought you loved me?”

“I do. I always have and always will love you, for the years we’ve been together, and for our kids, but I’m not in love with you any more, Jon, and I don’t think you’re in love with me either.”

Jon sighed. God, he hated all this grown up, mature crap. During the cab ride, though, he’d tried to analyse his feelings for Dot, and he knew, if he was honest with himself, she was right. He probably hadn’t been in love with her for a while, but it was just comfortable and easy to let it ride. Jon gave another sigh as he looked up at Dot, seeing a tear trickle down her cheek as she watched him, giving him the time to think it through.

“Okay. If we’re being honest here, I think you’re right. I was thinking about it in the cab home.” Jon said. “So - how long have you been seeing him?”

“Jon…..”

“No, it’s okay. I’m actually not mad - I was earlier, but I’m really not mad at you hon.” He tried to reassure Dot, and found to his surprise that he really did mean it.

It must have showed in his face, because Dot gave a gentle smile.

“I met him while you were on tour the last time. We were just friends for a while, but it grew, and we’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for a few weeks now.”

Jon couldn’t believe how blind he’d been. The tour had been over for eight months, and he hadn’t even noticed that Dot was cheating. What kind of husband did that make him? ‘I deserve to lose her’ Jon thought wryly, then turned to practicalities.

“What now?” He asked. “What about the kids? I assume you want to divorce?”

Dot was a little surprised at his reaction, and found herself wondering if he’d been seeing someone else, too. In a way, she hoped he had been, because she already knew that Jon didn’t do well alone. He needed somebody in his life, but Dot had come to the decision that it wasn’t going to be her any more.

“Yes, I think a divorce is necessary.” She said, “But how would you feel about making it on grounds of separation - we could just split up for, what is it, three years? Saves either of us having to admit to anything, and I think it would be easier for the kids.”

Jon nodded, trying to think of the best thing for the kids. His kids were the most important ones in this, and while he didn’t want to lose them, he knew they needed Dot. Plus, when he was on the road, he couldn’t exactly drag them around with him.

“What about the kids?” He repeated.

“I think the best thing would be for us to talk to them, explain the situation - well, most of it anyway - and see what they want. We should probably leave it until the weekend, when we’ve got all the time we need. There’s no way I’m taking your kids from you, Jon.” Dot reassured him. “I know what they mean to you, and they’re the most important ones in this whole thing.” She was echoing Jon’s own feelings, and he stood up from the couch.

“I need a drink.” He said. “Do you want anything?”

By the time they both had drinks in front of them, Jon had reached a decision. It was one that hurt, but possibly the easiest way forward.

“I think I should move out.” He told her, and Dot looked shocked.

“But, Jon, you love this house.”

“I do, but it makes more sense. If we’re separating, one of us has to go. You know the schedule I’ve got over the next few months, so the kids would end up being left with you anyway, so surely it’s best if they don’t have to move? We can sort it all out later, but in the meantime - once we’ve told them - I think I should look for somewhere else to live.”

Jon gulped back his drink. There hadn’t been any wine handy, so he was drinking whisky, and he felt it burn down his throat all the way to his stomach. He knew this was a bad idea - this was why he didn’t normally drink spirits - how often had he said he was a drinker, not a sipper, but tonight he needed this. Back to the bar, and he poured another drink, then brought the bottle back with him to pour Dot another. She put her hand over the glass.

“I’m fine.”

After the third whisky, Jon could feel the hurt burning inside him, as he came to terms with the end of his long marriage. He suddenly knew he had to get out of the house, so he took his glass and the bottle, and walked out onto the patio. Dot understood, and she let him go without a word. It would be a few hours before the kids would be back, so she would let him work it through himself.

Sitting outside, Jon drank down another shot of whisky. He didn’t even feel drunk, but he could feel his self control was beginning to go, and he hated that. Another whisky didn’t help, but as he shifted his weight, he heard the rustle of something in his back pocket, and remembered. Sara’s phone numbers.

He dragged out the crumpled card, found his cellphone in another pocket, and dialled the studio. After a long while, the answering machine kicked in, so he hung up and tried her cell number. This time, he got an answer, but the whisky slowed his tongue so he couldn’t speak at first.

“Hello? Hello?” Sara’s voice hardened. “Who is this? Hello!”

“S’me” he muttered. Oh, yeah, that helped, didn’t it rock star, he thought. “Sorry, it’s Jon.”

“Jon? Are you okay - you sound a bit weird.”

“Oh, not so much weird as wired.” He sounded exhausted, Sara thought.

“What is it?”

“Can I…………..can I come over?” He asked quietly.

“I’ve already left the studio. I’m nearly home now.” Sara said, but Jon persisted.

“Please? I need you. I need to talk, to - God, I don’t know what I need - please, Sara. Can I come over there? Where do you live?”

Sara hesitated, but she could hear the agony in his voice, and she always had been a sucker for wounded puppies. She gave him her address, and Jon hung up. He called another cab, then staggered into the house, passing Dot in the living room, and muttering that he was going out, he’d see her later. The bottle of whisky was still gripped in one hand as he waited at the door for the cab, pressing the button that opened the gates when the driver buzzed the intercom. He gave the cabbie Sara’s address, then lay back in the seat, closing his eyes.

When they arrived, he gave the cabbie some cash, not even realising he’d just given the guy a $100 tip, and half fell out of the cab, stumbling up the front steps to Sara’s door. She opened the door, staring up at him in shock as he stood, weaving, in the doorway.

“Jesus, Jon. What’s happened?”

“I………Can I come in?” Jon could feel the prickling of tears behind his eyes, and he fought them back, refusing to cry.

Sara stepped aside and watched him stagger through the first doorway he came to, leading to the living room. She locked the door and followed him, finding him sitting on the couch, whisky bottle in hand, staring at the floor.

“Jon, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” She sat beside him, touching his arm, and he turned his blue eyes on her so Sara saw that they were swimming with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, Sara. I didn’t know who else to call. Richie’s out in LA, and I couldn’t call my mom. Not yet.”

“Dammit, Jon. What?!”

“I talked with Dot. She told me she’s been seeing someone else, and she wants a divorce.” He’d said it, and the sound of the words it really hit home.

Sara saw the change in his face, and she gently took the whisky bottle out of his hand, setting it down on the floor.

“Come here.” She said, sliding her arms around his shoulders, and pulling him back onto the couch, holding him tightly. She could feel him shaking as he tried to fight it, and she rocked him gently, feeling his arms creep around her waist.

“Just let it go, Jon. I’m here. Just let it go.”

The compassion in her voice was too much, and Jon gave a racking sob as he felt the tears spill over. Sara held him close, murmuring comforting sounds as he wept in her arms, until she could feel the front of her shirt soaking wet with his tears. Eventually, his sobbing diminished, but still Sara rocked him like a scared child, until she felt his complete relaxation as he fell into a whisky-induced sleep.

Freeing one hand for a second, she wiped away her own tears, tears brought to her eyes by Jon’s anguish, then she wrapped her arms around him again, laying her cheek on top of his head as she continued to move gently on the couch, gentling his sleep.