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“So…” John mumbled, clasping his hands together awkwardly.
Julian stared back at him, both holding eye contact with each other over the kitchen table in silence. John had taken on many challenges in life, he thought himself a strong man. But at the moment he was falling apart under the child's intense gaze.
Cynthia had left about an hour ago. It had been sprung on him at the last minute, so quickly he wasn’t even sure what Cynthia was doing tonight. He didn’t want to dwell on that though, didn’t want his mind to take him to places he ought not go. Especially not with a child in the house, he had enough self restraint for that.
“You listen to music?” John asked, twiddling his thumbs and inwardly cringing at the words. He didn’t show it though, he refused to show weakness. He knew Julian could sense it, some weird baby thing. He didn’t know what else to say though, didn’t know what on earth he and a small child would have in common. Other than genetics, his mind unhelpfully supplied.
Thinking back, John was sure he’d never been alone with Julian before, at least not while the kid was awake. He had no clue how to talk to him, how to handle him. He’d never been around babies before, or at least never had to interact with them. He couldn’t even use the way he’d been treated as an example, adults always treated him equally as a kid. He was used to hearing stories way too old for his age group, being exposed to things he probably shouldn't have been. He tried treating Julian that way and only ended up with a scolding from Cynthia.
Julian continued to stare at him, sitting stiller than John had ever seen him. He looked almost comical in the seat, far too small for the table, his eyes only just poking up over it. Seeing him like that made John realise just how small he was, how young. He was a child, one who at the moment relied on John and John alone. Panic began to rise and John knew Julian could tell which only made him panic more.
“Your mum… what does she let you listen to?” John continued, feeling as if he was digging himself a hole but he just couldn’t sit in silence with the boy any longer. It was eating him alive.
Minutes passed in tense silence. John began to shift in his seat, squirming under the unwavering gaze of his son. Julian was usually such a loud and talkative child, much like himself, but it was like he had been switched off. John opened his mouth again, begging his mind to supply him with something to say but the boy got there first.
“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
John let out a sigh of relief, immediately hopping off the seat as though it had burned him. He rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a loaf of bread before turning to the door with a frown. He couldn’t see Julian from where he was standing, the wall dividing the kitchen and dining room blocking his view. He froze in place, wondering if that was a problem. He wouldn’t care usually, the kid had to learn things the hard way in life, but something was nagging him. Maybe it was an urge to prove himself, to whom he wasn’t sure. Half to Cynthia, to show he was more responsible than she thought. Half to himself, to know he wasn’t going to be the same as his own father.
John let out a sigh and rubbed his face before shuffling back into the dining room. Julian was still sitting in his chair, playing with a toy he had in his hands under the table.
“Why don’t you come help me?” He offered meekly, wondering if he’d be able to take the rejection of a child. Thankfully Julian just nodded and hopped off the chair to follow him.
“Is toast alright?” John felt the need to ask. What if Julian didn’t like toast? Well no one could not like toast, right? Surely he had to, John wasn’t sure what else he could make for the boy. He had gone out for dinner on his way home from the studio, he wasn’t sure if Julian had already had a meal or not. John gripped the counter to steady his breathing.
“Yeah.” The little voice spoke up, breaking him from his inner spiral.
John almost jumped at the sound, half forgetting he wasn’t alone. The little boy reached out, a small frown on his face that made his wide eyes look even bigger.
“Are you okay, daddy?” Julian rested his hand on John’s leg, not able to reach his hands on the counter.
“Of course.” John nodded, stepping away from the touch as subtly as he could, uncomfortable with the affection. He busied himself with putting the bread in the toaster and getting out a knife and plate.
“Can you get yourself a drink or what?” John asked, feeling overwhelmed under his son’s gaze once more. His tone came out more biting than he intended and he could see Julian’s face crumble.
“I can’t reach.” The boy seemed nervous to tell him, beginning to fidget with his toy again and bow his head in shame.
“Right, no of course not.” John mumbled to himself, shaking his head. He was acting like a fool now, asking obvious questions and that. He needed help. The idea of things continuing like this all night made his stomach drop. It was still way too early to ship Julian off to bed. Speaking of, was John meant to read to him, did he need help brushing his teeth?
John grabbed a cup from the press and juice from the fridge, filling it out quickly.
“I have to make a phone call, stay put.” He refused to look at the boy, practically storming out of the room and into the hallway.
John picked up the phone, his fingers dialling the number before his brain even registered it. He took deep breaths listening to the tone as he leaned against the wall in defeat.
“Hello?”
“Paul, thank god. You need to come over.” John gripped the phone with both hands, fear filling him that Paul would decline.
“Why? What’s happened?” He could hear some shuffling on the line behind Paul’s worried words.
“Julian.” Was all John offered. He didn’t want to say it out loud that he needed help, that he was useless at this thing. He didn’t have the pride to admit it.
“What happened to Julian? John, is he okay?” Paul’s voice sounded more frantic now and John bitterly wondered if the man suddenly cared more for the child than him.
“He’s fine. He’s here with me. Cyn’s gone for the night.”
The line went quiet for a moment, only Paul’s now calmer breathing being heard. “You’re alone with Julian?”
“Yes.” John spoke through gritted teeth, unsure if Paul was going to force him to ask for help.
“And you want me to what?” Paul asked, he sounded a bit confused. John groaned quietly, why couldn’t Paul just understand. It would be so much easier if he was in front of him, Paul would understand if he could see his face.
“To come over.”
“To… help?”
“Christ, McCartney. Don’t bother if you’re going to be like that.” John growled out, his fist clenching the phone in a death grip. He slammed it back on the receiver, efficiently hanging up. He took some deep breaths, leaning his hands against the wall. Now he really had no hope. Maybe Ringo or George would come over but John knew they’d make him ask as well.
“Shit!” He groaned, slamming his palms against the wall before standing back up straight again.
“That’s a bad word.” He heard a small voice say. John jumped, if sneaking up on him was going to become a thing Julian would have to fend for himself.
He just scoffed at the boy. He wasn’t in the mood for babytalking. “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.” He scolded.
“I need help.”
Half of John envied him for how easily he said it, the other half thought about straightening him out into a real man like what had been done for him. “With what?” He grumbled. He moved past the boy back into the kitchen before stopping short. The cup he had given the boy was on the ground, the entire contents spilled across the floor like an apple flavoured pond.
“I spilled some juice.” Julian explained as if the mess wasn’t right in front of them. He stood behind the door frame, peeking out as though he was frightened of what John might do next.
John shut his eyes and took some deep breaths. “Go to your room.” He mumbled eventually, trying to keep his voice even.
He had felt on edge since Cynthia had walked out the door. He was way out of his depth, completely uncomfortable and no wit could save him from this situation. He had no clue how Cynthia got through the day watching Julian, how she kept a level head. Probably from dealing with him, he thought bitterly.
“What about toast?”
“Go to your room.” John repeated. He waited until he heard footsteps on the stairs before moving forward to grab some paper towels and start cleaning.
John’s eyes began to water as he sopped up the juice. He felt completely useless as a father despite both Cynthia and Paul assuring him he wouldn’t be. But now look at him, alone with his child for the first time and already sending him to his room. A tear escaped his eye and he leaned back to sit on the floor and cover his face. He felt weak and worthless, like his own father. He didn’t want to turn out like him, didn’t want his son to go through what he had but he didn’t know how to change. He didn’t believe he could.
A rustling at the door made his crying stop. He listened with bated breath as a key entered the lock. That had to be Cynthia, home early for whatever reason. He stood up quickly, ready to run to his saviour before locking himself in the attic with a drink.
But it wasn’t Cynthia that came through the door. It was Paul.
Paul poked his head round the door before pointlessly knocking. “Hello?” He called, his eyes glancing around before they settled on John, half off the floor at his appearance.
John hoisted himself up and almost broke out into a run to greet him. He opened the door wider, practically hauling the younger man in before remembering he was mad.
“What’re you doing here?”
“You called?” Paul frowned. His eyes once again glanced around, taking in the half made toast, wet paper towels, and lack of Julian. “Tough night?”
“Fuck off.” John grumbled, turning around to clear up the kitchen. He couldn’t take Paul’s playful teasing when he was in a mood like this.
“Where’s Julian?” Paul stepped forward after shutting the door behind him. “It’s too early for bed, right?” He asked, lifting his right arm to check his watch.
“He’s in his room.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?” John seethed. “He’s a kid and he was bad so he’s in his room.”
“What did he do?”
“Am I getting paid for this interview?” John snapped, turning on his heel to face Paul with a scowl.
Paul didn’t say a word. Instead he approached him as though he was a scared animal and reached out. He put his hands on John’s shoulders, taking his time to really look at the man in front of him. “Relax, John.” He whispered.
Had it been anyone else, John would’ve taken offence to the word but with Paul he couldn’t. He felt the anger drain from him, as though it was flowing right through him and into Paul.
“He spilled his juice.” He answered, much calmer now.
“On purpose?”
“No.” John sighed, casting his gaze to the floor in shame.
“Right. You finish up his toast and I’ll go get him, yeah?”
John nodded, closing his eyes. It was still for a minute. He could feel Paul looking at him intently. He let the sense of security that came with the man wash over him before Paul was moving away and up the stairs.
Only when he could hear the soft murmurs from Julian’s bedroom did he open his eyes. He made Julain’s toast and refilled his juice as he waited. A pit grew steadily in his stomach the longer he waited for the duo. He wondered if Julian was telling Paul just how terrible he was, what a shit father he was being.
He busied himself then with making tea, needing something to do with his hands before he started to pull his own hair out. He was just adding a drop of milk when he heard a commotion on the stairs.
Both Paul and his son were talking animatedly, about what he had no clue. They stomped into the kitchen together, Paul lifting Julian up onto an island chair before sitting next to him.
John watched them interact. They both acted as though he wasn’t there. He couldn’t tell if it was intentional or if they were just that lost in conversation. Now that they were in the room he realised they were talking about Julian’s toy, a simple race car. John didn’t understand how they had so much to say on the topic.
Paul leaned over as he was speaking to grab the butterknife John had left on the counter. He pulled Julain’s plate towards himself and began to cut the toast into soldiers. It was something John vaguely remembered Jim doing one time when Paul got unbelievably sick. It made John’s heart twist in a weird way. He decided then that he couldn’t take it anymore. Paul was just as good as Cynthia, John wouldn’t be missed if he slunk off upstairs.
He set Paul’s tea in front of him, earning him a smile and a thanks before he turned towards the door.
Paul grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back with a frown. “Where are you going?”
“Upstairs.” John shrugged, not looking at Julian who was happily munching away.
“No you’re not.” Paul shook his head, tugging once more at John’s sleeve. “How will you learn?” He asked quietly.
John frowned and tugged his arm back though he didn’t try for an escape this time. He wanted to learn, he really did, he just didn’t know if he could. He nodded anyway. He didn’t think he could leave when Paul had asked him to stay. He sat next to Paul, using him as a barrier between him and Julian.
“So what do you want to do when you’ve finished eating, Jules?” Paul smiled, turning back to the boy.
Julian pondered for a moment, his stubby fingers coming up to his chin in thought. John couldn’t deny the action was a bit cute.
“Pirates!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in excitement.
John could feel the knot in his stomach grow tighter. He’d look like a fool trying to play, especially in front of Paul. At least if he wasn’t here only Julian would bear witness. He tried to keep his face neutral, wondering if he could get away with faking an injury or something but he knew Paul wouldn’t let him off so easily.
He zoned out as his bandmate and his child continued their conversation, planning out whatever scenario the pirates would be in. He sipped his tea, feeling put out. He knew it was childish to feel left out of a conversation he was actively avoiding, and yet he did. Looking at Paul he felt himself grow envious. He wished he could skip it all, fast forward until he was a good dad.
He followed silently when they moved into the sitting room. He let himself wander over to the armchair in the corner, sinking into the seat in hopes the other two would simply forget about him. They were busy anyway, pulling apart the couches to create what was apparently supposed to be a boat. John watched on in slight awe of what was happening. Paul interacted so easily with Julian, exaggerating his movements, answering his questions in a heartbeat. John briefly thought that this was Paul’s camera act, where he always knew what to do and say, but it wasn’t. Paul wasn’t perfect, not right now.
Paul’s hair was sticking up, ruffled from where Julian had playfully hit him with a pillow, his cheeks were red from smiling and he had a genuine look of childlike whimsy on his face. This wasn’t acting, this wasn’t camera ready, it was intimate and real.
Paul climbed onto the couch, raising one foot on the armrest. He pointed the little tv remote at Julian as though it was a sword.
“You shan’t take my ship, young thief!” He exclaimed, doing one of his silly voices that made Julian giggle. John couldn’t stop that smile that spread on his own face.
“Says who?!” Julian yelled back childishly, grabbing a plastic sword from his toybox to brandish at Paul.
“Says I, Captain Macca!”
John sat back, enjoying the show and feeling himself relax. It seemed as though they had forgotten him, too lost in their fantasy world which suited John just fine. His thoughts didn’t work so fast when he watched them battle over the sofa, he was too entranced in the story. Paul made it look easy, letting Julian win and perfectly playing it off. John didn’t think he’d have enough pride to do so. He’d go more down the path of teaching his boy that life wasn’t fair. But this was so much nicer, seeing his son laugh and play, completely care free.
It struck John then just how much the boy looked like him. He was practically a carbon copy of him. He couldn’t tell if it made him happy or sad. He was envious that Julian had someone there to play with him and not yell at him to put the couches back right. But on the other hand, it felt like a second chance. It was too late now for John, but seeing a mini version of himself having fun almost made it better.
It was as though John came out of a dream when Julian turned his wide excited eyes on him. The child had Paul balancing on the armrest of the couch, the mans ‘sword’ now gone. Julian was keeping him there by pointing his own sword at him.
“Daddy! Come help me!” Julian bounced in place, excitement coursing through his small body.
“What?” John frowned, feeling stupid for having to ask but he couldn’t understand how he fitted in this situation.
“You have to help me make Captain Macca walk the plank! Then it’ll be our ship!” The boy explained, poking Paul with the sword and making the man groan dramatically and clutch his side.
John’s breath hitched at the words. Julian wanted him involved, wanted it to be them together, teaming up. That alone made John rise without protest. He walked over slowly, as though expecting Julian to turn and laugh in his face at the last second.
Instead the boy handed him Paul’s ‘sword’ with a smile on his face. His movements were slow as if John was the child and not him.
“On three, we’ll push him off, okay?” Julian asked quietly, searching John’s face for understanding.
John just nodded silently, still too taken aback from being involved to speak. He pointed his weapon at Paul who was looking at him with a wide grin. He scowled back, wanting to wipe the stupid smile off his friend’s face before Paul saw his own smile.
“3,” John started, stepping closer to Paul.
“2!” Julian practically vibrated next to him. He couldn’t contain himself. “1!” He shouted, ruining any suspense.
Both Lennon’s moved forward, jabbing Paul in the side. Paul dramatically fell from the couch and onto the carpet. He flailed around pretending to drown, his eyes scrunched closed and his cheeks puffed as though he was holding his breath. Julian cackled next to him, watching Paul with great amusement. It astonished John that Paul didn’t care how daft he looked.
“Help! Help me, there’s sharks!” Paul gasped before pretending to go under again. Julian leaped to the side of the couch to peer down at him, a wide grin on his face.
“Eat him! Eat him!” He chanted to the imaginary predators, giggling like a maniac. John couldn’t help himself joining in. He decided this wasn’t so bad, being next to his son and laughing.
A hand suddenly reached out to grab him, tugging his shirt and making him lose his balance. Before he knew it he had tumbled to the ground right next to Paul. Paul grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him, jostling him around playfully.
“Daddy no!” Julian gasped, reaching out a little hand as though to save him.
John found he couldn’t resist leaning in to the stupidity of it all, at least not with both Julian and Paul gazing down at him with matching chubby cheeked grins. He reached out for Julian, kicking his legs around before pretending to be pulled back. He could see Paul doing the same from the corner of his eye and that reassured him enough to continue.
“I can’t be captain alone!” Julian yelped, reaching further, his little hands making a grabbing gesture.
Alone.
The word stuck out to John more than it probably should have. Julian’s eyes were on him, wide and tearful even if it was just acting. Suddenly it didn’t feel like a game any more. It was too real. John was going to let Julian do this all alone, without a father, without him being there. It made his heart seize. The only other option he could see was to pull Julian down with him, off the couch and continuing the path of emotionally stunted Lennon men. He couldn’t do that either.
In a split second decision he reached out, grabbing Julian’s hand. The little boy tugged with all his might to save him from the sharks below. John hoisted himself out and back onto the boat. He pretended to spit out water before Julian jumped onto him, clinging on.
“You made it!”
“I sure did.” John smiled, pulling Julian close into what he thought was their first proper hug.
It made him emotional, to have his child in his arms like this. Too emotional. He wanted to stop. He pointed to Paul who was now laying on the floor playing dead.
“He didn’t.”
Julian once again laughed, throwing his arms up in triumph. “I win!”
“Hey! We win!” John corrected, only half joking. Julian just laughed happily, jumping on the couch in excitement.
“Now I’m captain! As captain I demand a chocolate bar!”
“Hey! Manners, young man!” Paul scolded, sitting up and breaking character.
“But I’m captain, you have to do what I say.”
“Even captains have to be polite. If not, the crew will turn on him.” Paul shuffled over to the couch, extending his hands in a threat to tickle the child.
Julian gasped, backing away. “Please! I demand some chocolate, please!”
“Better.” Paul laughed, standing up and stretching. He looked at John with a knowing smile on his face. “Wanna show me where it is?”
John rolled his eyes, knowing full well Paul knew the layout of the kitchen. But he stood anyway.
“You start cleaning up.” He pointed to Julian who gave him a pout but got to work.
John followed Paul into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them since it was obvious Paul wanted to talk.
Paul turned to face him, leaning against the island. His arms were crossed but his face was open and his gaze made John squirm. Paul didn’t speak though, he knew John would eventually crack and talk to him.
John sighed, giving in. “How do you do it?” His words came out more timid than he would’ve liked.
He watched as Paul’s face fell. He gave John a look of pity before thinking better of it and schooling his face. He shrugged and averted his gaze. “Practice I guess. I was around babies a lot.”
John just scoffed, scuffing his foot on the ground. It was typical that there wasn’t an answer that could actually help him.
“It’s not really about him, y’know?” Paul spoke. John’s head snapped to look at him, confusion written on his face.
“Well, it is. But not all of it. Sure, it’s Jules’ game, he makes the rules but it’s more about you. It’s about letting yourself be a kid again, I suppose. Tapping into that imagination. Try to see things like a kid, like your art! It’s all abstract, y’know. Nothing is what it really is, it’s all fictional. You have to think like a kid to interact with one.”
John mulled the words over in his head. He stared at the floor as he did so, trying as he usually did to find faces in the pattern of the tiles. He wondered if that was what Paul meant. Seeing faces in the tile, seeing the remote as a sword.
“But what if I get it wrong?” He hated that his voice wavered, that he sounded as vulnerable as he felt.
“That’s the greatest part.” Paul moved forward, getting close enough to wrap his arms around John. They were a tactile group, all four of them, always touching each other one way or another. But this felt so much more intimate. He leaned into it, wrapping his arms around Paul in return. “He won’t remember you messing up, just that you were there.”
John let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He felt tears prickling in the backs of his eyes and his grip tightened on the younger man in front of him.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Anytime. You don’t have to do this alone, John.”
John nodded, nuzzling his face into Paul’s neck. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn't come. I was so overwhelmed and angry. I thought I was going to hit him.” John admitted, his last sentence barely audible as the tears began to cascade down his face.
Paul’s hands fisted the back of his shirt, pulling him as close as can be as he processed the words.
“You didn’t.”
“But I wanted to.”
Paul pulled back, cupping John’s face and forcing him to look at him. John’s face was red from crying, his cheeks and eyelashes damp. He looked miserable.
“John. You. Didn’t.” Paul whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek the same way Cynthia would have done. “You wanted to, but you didn’t. That’s a start, yeah?”
John nodded, sniffling and scrubbing at his face with his hand.
“Alright?” Paul murmured, wiping his own stray tear away.
“Yeah.” John straightened up, clearing his throat. “I believe we came in here for chocolate.”