⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Eleven: Stupid Anxiety, Stupid Stutter, Why Now?

August 12, 1961

With Emily gone, it felt like John loosened up a lot with me. He didn't have any strings tying him down now, so words came more easily and he didn't have to almost sneak around. I waited patiently that night for the rocks to hit my window, hoping deeply they would because I knew if he wanted to know anything about me, it was now or never. When they finally started to tap my window, I wasted no time in going over to see him.

"Having a nice night?" John asked, leaning his head on his left hand dreamily.

I smiled. "That I am."

"Ready for story time?" he then asked eagerly. I nodded nervously, looking down. "Well, come on over then." I looked up at his dopey smile and, someway and somehow, I knew I could trust him instantly.

I made the normal stealthy journey out the front door and back over to John's house.

Was I really about to open up to the first person I'd ever dared to open up to? What a revelation.

How did I keep finding myself on John's floor? I mean, last time I was here, I felt like I was going to puke everywhere, so I was definitely doing better this time around, I suppose.

"I've never met anyone like you," John began, randomly and lost in thought.

"I—uh—what do you mean by that?" I asked.

"No one has ever left me as baffled as you."

I looked down. "What's baffling about me?"

"I don't know." He paused. "You just kinda showed up here out of nowhere and...it's like I felt connected to you in some silly way."

I had never heard anyone talk like this before.

"Oh?" was all I could think to say.

He nodded and looked at me thoughtfully. "I feel like you've got something I can relate to."

I looked down. "Maybe I do."

He reached over and lifted my head up by my chin. "And what might that be?"

I looked away again, fighting eye contact.

"Ye wanna share or not?" He leaned back in his desk chair.

"I—," I choked out.

"C'mon, love, it's okay."

His voice was so hypnotizing, so welcoming. It was like his words were poison, coursing through my body, drawing me in and willing me to speak. Perhaps that was the only reason I said anything at all.

I sighed heavily and forced myself to look into his eyes. "Well—." I dragged the word out. "Do you want the full story, or what I choose to tell?"

He gave an encouraging smile and just said, "whatever's best for you, love."

I nodded. "I trust you don't want to be here all night though, so maybe the condensed version?"

He shrugged. "I'm willing to sit here as long as it takes."

I nodded and paused a moment. "Well, I've always been followed by misfortune. I was born pretty sick, so right off the bat, I was stupidly unlucky." I gave a half-amused smile and looked at John. He nodded. "Unfortunately, I survived it—."

"Wait—." John cut me off. "Unfortunately?"

I had hoped I hadn't said that aloud. Oops. "I meant fortunately," I said, wincing at my morbid lie. "Anyways, when I was just over a year old, I—uh—erm." Stupid anxiety, stupid stutter, why now?

I guess John could sense how tense I'd become. "You alright?" he asked.

I nodded, painfully, and continued. "Well, my parents, they were killed in a car accident. They were on the way home from a party." I swallowed. "A drunk driver hit them. I just—I'm not sure. I mean, I never even got to know them. I always remember wondering why someone had to take them away."

John looked down, running his hands through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Donna," he said.

"Well, it's not your fault, is it?" I gave a feeble smile. "It's nothing. It's just sad seeing everyone around me with parents all happy, and I never got a shot at it, y'know?"

He nodded. "That's it," he said.

"That's what?"

Now it was his turn to gather his words. "I knew we had something in common."

A painful jolt shot through my stomach as what he said sunk in. He's known the loss. Even still, I asked, "W-what d'ya mean?" My words slurred.

He looked at me with a sad smile. "My mother was killed in a car accident a few years back." He looked away, but not before I caught the painful glaze that had taken over his eyes. "Of course, I knew her, but that almost made it worse."

I looked down, nodding. "I can see why it would. We're you two really close?" I asked.

"Well, my dad left when I was born, I guess. Mimi basically took me and raised me, but of course I still got to talk to her and stay with her a lot. She taught me ukulele and banjo actually. Also bought me my first guitar. She was what got me really into music." He smiled fondly at the memories, but the look of sadness he held didn't leave and I feared it never would.

He paused and when I didn't say anything, he asked, "where'd you go? You know, afterwards?"

I looked up and thought a moment. "I went to live with my grandparents. I guess no one else wanted me. Or maybe they didn't want anyone else to take me. Either way, I loved growing up with them. They would tell me stories about my parents." I smiled reminiscently. John grinned at my almost-perfectly-happy expression. Then, my face darkened again. "Well, then they got to where they couldn't take care of me anymore."

He looked at me sympathetically.

"That's when I ended up in a children's home, rather an orphanage with a pleasant name, but ye know, they didn't want us to feel neglected, I guess. Brian adopted me earlier this year. He's really nice."

Then, to my surprise, John took my hand in his, cupping it in both his, right over left. It felt so good to have it all out. Someone finally knew. I was so happy about that I could have cried on that alone, but the helplessness I felt in my series of unfortunate events was really what made the stupid, stupid tears come to my eyes. I hated crying, especially around others. But, almost more, I hated pity. Although, tears always brought pity, so I guess the two went hand-in-hand.

When he heard my sniffling, he moved to the floor and wrapped his arms around me, almost protectively. "It's okay, love," he said.

"I'm stupid. I don't know what's wrong with me." I laughed.

"No, you're not." He chuckled too.

"I've never told anyone that. It feels so good for someone to finally know."

"Awe, love, I know."

It was funny, really. John seemed like the last person who would go to such lengths to get something that was bothering you out, and then comfort you when you were upset. He seemed like such a husky and unreadable guy, I guess. Just didn't seem like the sappy, romantic type, but I was glad he was. His embrace felt more homey than anything I'd ever experienced.