“Where the hell are you?” He demanded.
“Excuse me?” Dorothea’s high-pitched rhetoric was filled with both shock and aggravation.
The tone of her voice irritated him beyond belief. Did she even know why he was calling? What could possibly be so important she didn’t get the messages left by the school and him?
“Don’t play games with me, Dorothea. I asked you a question”
“You gave up that right when you asked for a divorce.”
“Not when it involves my kids.”
“Jon, what are you talking about?”
She could hear a car door slamming followed by what sounding like shoes hitting the pavement and Jon’s heavy breathing.
“Romeo. He’s sick.”
Dot’s voice went soft “Christ. Why didn’t they...”
Jon abruptly cut her off before she could finish.
“...call you. They tried, many times and couldn’t reach you, so they called me. I’m about to walk into school now.”
“But wait, aren’t you in London?”
“Lucky for you, I’m not.” Jon bit out. He could hear some fussing and mumbling of voices in the background.
“Sorry, I have to go, Romeo is sick.” Dorothea could be heard telling whoever she was with.
“Don’t bother. I'm already at the school. I’ll get him. We’ll be at the apartment when you are ready to come home.”
“Jon, call me and let me know how he is. I’m on my way.”
“Yeah. Whatevah.” Was the last thing Jon said before turning his phone to vibrate and shoving it into his pocket.
Jon was infuriated, not because she was out or doing whatever she was doing. He couldn’t give two fucks about that. He was mad that she hadn’t answered her phone, heck she didn’t even check her messages. Jon took a moment to regain some calmness before he went inside to get his sick son.
Walking into the nurse’s office, Jon spotted Romeo sleeping on a nearby bed.
“How is he?” Jon asked.
“He throw up a few more times after we spoke.”
“How long has he been sleeping?” Jon sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the blonde locks from his eyes.
“Not very long.”
“Romey. Buddy wake up. It’s time to go home.”
The little boy rubbed his eyes with his clenched little fists. “Daddy.”
“Hey.”
“My belly still hurts.”
“I know buddy. Whaddya say I take you home.?” Jon helped him sit up.
“Okay.”
Jon stood and took his little hand in his as he slid his legs over the edge and onto the floor.
“Do you need me to sign anything?” Jon asked.
“No. Just sign him out at the front desk. Feel better Romeo.” She patted his head.
“Romeo, what do you say?” Jon shook his hand.
“Thanks. Bye.” He waved.
“Thank you again.” Jon repeated.
♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱
Romeo and Jon seemed to survive the ride back to Manhattan. The foyer, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so lucky. They had just stepped off the elevator when Romeo’s face turned a very interesting shade of green. Jon had tried to move quickly to the door and get him to the bathroom, but he couldn’t and instead watched as his little boy threw up everything he’d eaten in the past few hours and then some.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think everyone was out to get him with all this throwing up going on around him. He was definitely not good with anyone who was sick, much less a sick five-year-old.
“Feel better.” Jon asked, when the vomiting seemed to stop.
“Much. Gertrude is going to be maaad.” Romeo said, as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Don’t worry about Gertrude.” Jon pushed open the door with this foot. “Clothes off.”
“Daad.” The little boy whined.
“Off! Then upstairs and in the tub. I’ll be up in a minute.”
The young boy did what his father asked. Well almost. He toed off his shoes, tugged his Yoshi shirt over his head, shimmed out of his jeans and before Jon could grab him he made a beeline up the steps.
“Tub.” Jon bent to pick up the pile of clothes, then set off to find Gertrude.
Tossing the soiled clothes in the hamper Jon made it to the bathroom just in time to see Romeo kneeling in front of the toilet throwing up again. With most of the contents of his stomach in the foyer, the boy was merely dry heaving. Jon sat down beside him, putting his big hand on his back and rubbed.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“My tummy hurts.” Romeo rubbed at his watering eyes.
“I know. Let’s get your pj’s and then I’ll give you something. S’alright.” Jon said, giving his shoulder a pat.
Walking towards the medicine cabinet, Jon retrieved the bottle of children's medicine and walked into the bedroom to find his son curled up under his blanket so only the top of his head was visible. His heart ached to see Romeo or any of his kids sick. Sitting down on the bed, the child sat up long enough to take his medicine and then pulled the blankets back up around his shoulders to lie down. Jon stayed with him until he was sure he was sleeping and that the medicine had time to take effect. Easing himself off the bed he switched on the night light and made his way towards the door. One more look over his shoulder, he left the door ajar so he could hear him and made his way downstairs.
♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱
The grey clouds rolled in, and the bitter wind stirred as Jon stood on the balcony. Taking a drag on his cigarette, he managed an ‘uh-huh’ as he listened to Tony.
“Yeah, we’re staying at the guest house for now.”
“What did you just say?” The familiar sound of Dorothea’s piercing voice over his shoulder made him slowly turn around.
“I gotta go Ton. Talk to ya later.” Jon stabbed out his cigarette.
“Did I just hear you say she is staying at the guest house?" Dorothea stood at the door frame her hands planted firmly on her hips.
“No. I said we.” Jon pushed past her and moved inside.
“You brought her here?" She called behind as she followed him into the kitchen where he opened the stainless-steel door and retrieved a bottle of water.
“Don’t!”
Jon held up a finger while he purposely took a long sip from the bottle. Then once again he walked right past her and into the living room this time, and plopped down into one of the leather chairs.
“Where were you?”
“Oh no you don’t, you’re not changing the subject.”
“Yes. I am. Do you even want to know how Romey is feeling? Have you even gone to check on him?”
Dorothea tried to contain her anger as she unbuttoned her coat and threw it on the couch. “Yes, I went to check on him. He’s sleeping. You were supposed to call me.”
“You shoulda answered your phone the first time.”
“Gimme a break. How many times have you not answered yours?”
“Not when the kids were concerned. So, I’ll ask again, what had you so busy that you couldn’t answer your phone?”
“I was out.” She snapped.
“Cut the shit. I don’t give a rat’s ass who or what you were doing. It just better not interfere with my kids again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Lemme get this straight. It’s okay for you to be playing house with your girlfriend in my guest house, but I can’t be out with my friends for the day?”
“More than one? Didn’t know you had it in ya?”
“Fuck you Jon. I was with Linda, we spent the day at the spa. I left my phone in my purse. Don’t believe me, call her yourself.”
“Unlike you, I don’t care. You're just lucky I was home.”
“Oh please. Why are you home?”
Jon pushed himself up from the chair and walked to the closet to get his jacket. Slipping his arms into one sleeve, then the other, he shot her his stink eye.
“Since you haven’t bothered to ask what’s wrong with Romeo, why don’t I tell you? He threw up at school a few times, then all over the foyer and once again after that. I gave him some of the children’s medicine for stomach aches and he’s been asleep since then.”
“Bravo! Father of the Year goes to you.” Dorothea stood and clapped.
“Say what you want, you dropped the ball today. I’ll call later to check on him.”
“Would that be before or after you fuck your girlfriend in my house?”
“Classy, Dorothea. Real Classy. It’s the guest house, for now. And you might as well get used to it. She is moving here permanently."
“Well then, why don’t you just keep the house...” Dorothea started up the stairs, “I don’t want it now.” She called over her shoulder.
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