12- Biggest Turnoff? Women.

[10:37 PM] Hoping your kid’s okay –Petey

For the first time in eight hours, Jon had something he could smile about.

When he finally arrived at Riverview Hospital, it was to find Dorothea pacing angrily in the waiting room. Despite multiple attempts to call her on the half-hour drive over here, she hadn’t answered, frankly scaring the hell out of him.  Her agitation didn’t soothe his nerves any and he nearly ran across the waiting room.  When close enough, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around anxiously.  “Dottie, what happened?”

“What happened,” she informed him coldly while jerking away from his touch, “was that your son decided to play tackle football with a bunch of his friends.  Without helmets or any other kind of gear.  I blame this on you and your fucking football obsession, Jon.”

Jesus.  Why didn’t he fill his life with women who would mindlessly worship him instead of the ones who wanted to break him?

“That doesn’t tell me why we’re here.  Where’s Jess?”

“He’s in x-ray,” was her less-than-informative explanation and the tense set of her jaw pissed him off.  He wasn’t at fault here.

“Use your words, Dorothea.  Tell me what the hell happened,” he bit out, valiantly trying to keep his temper in check.   There was no point in being unreasonable, because Dot wasn’t an unreasonable woman.  The divorce had even been practical and emotionless, without any name calling or finger pointing.  They both knew who was to blame.  It didn’t need to be screamed to the rafters.

She finally stopped pacing and shoved long, brown hair agitatedly from her face with a sigh.  “They were playing in an empty lot near one of the kids’ houses.  Jesse got tackled and went down hard, from what the other boys said.  He must’ve hit his head on a rock because he went unconscious and blood was all over the grass.  Thank God one of the other kids had sense enough to call 9-1-1 while Garrett called me.”

Slim arms wrapped around her own waist and she looked at Jon forlornly, all the fight in her gone.  “I don’t like this shit, Jon.  It scares me when our kids are hurt.”

Jon tugged lightly on her elbow, coaxing her stiff, uncompromising body into his embrace.  “C’mere, baby.”

The scent that had filled his entire adult life curled around him in a nostalgic cloud, and her weight settled into his arms with the same familiar comfort as his favorite sweatshirt. Closing his eyes, Jon permitted himself to pretend for a minute.  To pretend that his high school sweetheart was still his rock, his salvation.  To pretend that they would get Jesse patched up and go home to the rest of their children in the big Navesink house and be a family. 

Pretending was a good way to feel the pain all over again, and it sucked.

“So they’re x-raying his skull for fractures or something?”

“Yes,” she said on a hitched breath, stepping away to reclaim a distance more suited to divorced parents.  “The bleeding finally stopped, but they said he has a concussion.  Right now they’re more worried about additional bleeding inside his skull because he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Hey…”  Divorced or not, there were some things they would always share, namely their kids.  Jon gently guided her to a distant corner of the waiting room where there was more privacy.  “Jess is a tough kid,” he reminded, lowering her into one of the institutional armchairs.  He claimed an adjoining one and leaned forward to clasp her hands.  “Don’t do this to yourself.  I’m sure he’s gonna be fine.”

That was what Jon had to believe.  The alternative was simply unacceptable, and he wouldn’t allow it.

“He will,” she agreed, searching his eyes with a hopeful desperation.  “He has to be.”

He tightened his grip, his repertoire of comforting phrases and platitudes sadly lacking.

“I miss us, Jon,” came quietly out of the blue. 

His eyes snapped back to hers, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.  “What?”

“Once upon a time it was our family against the world,” Dorothea reminisced.  “There was nothing that could touch us in our little bubble.  Doc McGhee, album after album, tour after tour…  When you were home, none of that mattered.  We were Mr. & Mrs. Jersey with our four beautiful kids, the same as every other family in America.  I miss that and I want it back.”

His heart stopped beating.  There were months after the divorce that he would’ve done anything to hear those particular words.  Saying it here and now, in that particular way…  Did Dot want him back? 

“Tell me what that means,” he rasped, unwilling – or afraid – to make any kind of assumptions.

“I’m a good mother.”  She extracted her hands from his.  “And I was a good wife.  I want it again.”

“You want it again, or me again?”

“What you used to be.”

“Dammit, Dorothea stop talking in riddles.  What are you saying?”

Calmly detached features met his.  “Since I can’t have what I want, it’s time to want what I can have.  A man has been asking me out and I’ve been putting him off, but I’m not going to anymore.  Jon, it’s only fair to tell you that I’m going to start seriously dating with the hopes of finding a husband.”

The bird that had been trying to take wing in his chest took an ass full of buckshot and plummeted to the pit of his stomach.

Logically, he knew it was going to happen at some point and it could’ve been a lot sooner than two years after the divorce.  Dot deserved someone to make her happy, and hell, he’d just had sex hours ago with Petey.  He had no room to judge.  It’s just that after that build up…

“You should still come over for Thanksgiving with the kids and invite your family.”

Of course he should.  What the fuck else would he do?  Who knew, maybe the new boyfriend would be there, too.

“Yeah, sure.”

And they sat, waiting on word of their oldest son, watching the comings and goings of the waiting room with scarcely another word. 

Thankfully, it was only a short time after that when the doctors came reassuring there was no intracranial bleeding and saying their son was awake, albeit with a splitting headache.  His status was upgraded to good, but an overnight hospital stay was in order to be safe. 

It seemed as though their boy would survive to torment his parents another day.

Jon volunteered to stay the night with Jess so that Dorothea could get home to the younger boys and Stephanie.  His empty apartment would certainly be fine without him, and would seem a whole lot emptier than it had considering…  Well, considering his day.

Jesse was asleep and not due to be awakened for a while, so he went in search of another bad cup of coffee.  That’s where he’d been heading when Petey’s text came through like an ironic ray of sunshine.

Reply by text message was probably the most appropriate thing to do, but he wasn’t interested in appropriate.  He was interested in the shot of adrenaline sparring with a thoughtful imp would give him.  And the fact that he could focus on something besides his ex-wife’s future without him. 

So Jon hit the button that would dial her number.

“Hello?” she answered suspiciously.  The huskiness of her voice was even more pronounced on the phone.

“Hey, Sugar.  You made it home okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?  How is your son or daughter?”

He let his butt hit the hard plastic of a hospital cafeteria chair and put the little paper cup of coffee on the table beside him.  Crossing his ankles, he wondered at how her bristliness made him want to laugh.

“My eldest son is going to survive, thanks to the hard head he inherited from me.  He was playing football and cracked his skull on a rock when he hit the ground.”

“Ouch.  That’s gotta suck.”

He chuckled quietly, and his head made a dull thump when it fell back to rest on the wall.  “Yeah, so he says.  We’re spending the night at the hospital for observation.  Concussion and all that.”

“Oh.”

She wasn’t any better with comforting platitudes than he was, Jon thought with amusement. 

“Looks like the Ravens won.  You’re safe from more questions.  For now.”

It was her turn to chuckle quietly.  “I’m sure it’s a temporary reprieve.”

“Aww, you know me so well already,” he teased, making her go quiet again.  Before things had the chance to become completely awkward, he stepped up to pay his debt.  “Your team won.  What are you going to choose as your prize?”

“I don’t know.”

“You mean you haven’t been brewing up some plan to make me pay out the nose?  I figured you would have it all mapped out by the time the game was over.”

“Sometimes the delayed gratification makes the victory all the sweeter.”

Do NOT get a hard-on in public, Bongiovi.

“Why, Ms. Diehl!  That sounded suggestive.”

No chuckle this time, but an outright laugh.  “Maybe you just have a dirty mind.”

True dat when it came to this chick.  He needed his head examined, but the little social outcast tickled his short hairs in the most provocative way.

“Not me.  Pure as the driven snow.  I’m up for sainthood next weekend, as a matter of fact.”

A loud splutter of disbelief, then silence.

“So you really have no idea?”

“No.”

“You’ll let me know when you decide though?”

“Yes.”

“Petey, you’re going all one-word-answer on me again.”

A huge, put-upon sigh rattled over the line.  “Jon, I’m glad your son is okay, but nothing’s changed since this afternoon.  We don’t have a relationship that requires sharing and getting to know one another.  If one word answers the question sufficiently, then that’s what you’re going to get.”

I guess she told me.

Why did he think this was going to make him feel better about himself?  Oh yeah.  They'd had amazing sex and spent part of a pleasant afternoon together.  In most people's eyes that would indicate they'd forged at least the beginnings of a friendship.

He mentally stomped the shit out of his rose-colored glasses, harshly reminded of why he never wore them.

“I’ve gotta get back to my boy,” he said brusquely, the effort of Petey now more than he wanted to deal with.  It was time to cut his losses.  She would never loosen up enough to appease his curiosity anyway.  “Thanks for your concern.  Just lemme know if you decide to collect on your debt.”

“Um.  Okay.”

“Good night, Petey.”