Life was good, no fantastic, Issy thought to herself a few days later. Settling in to some sort of routine and pottering around with pre-wedding chores, was bliss to her soul. John slept and cooked and pulled out plants instead of weeds. Life was nice.

The gardens looked beautiful. Saving the non-weeds from the compost Issy had replanted them, fertilised then watered them in. Lawns were last, a local man was coming in a day or two beforehand with mower and catcher, whipper snipper line thingy and he also had some plants that were in full bud, he would plant them strategically for the reception, assuring Issy they would be spot on and blooming for the big day.

'What's up with him?' she thought idly. Looking out the front window, while she folded linen. John stood fifty or so yards up the driveway with the two dogs. She smiled as Max nudged Johns leg for a pat, they'd been for a walk to the mailbox. Not that he ever got any mail. Julian wrote his mum but his dad- no. They argued, sorry, bantered by telephone, much easier than corresponding with paper and pen and Sean seemed to hold all his news in til the end of term and talk and talk for hours on end, then stop and suddenly remember he was missing his mates and disappear off down the street.

Flapping the white page a little, John tapped it on his hand while he looked off toward the jetty and lake beyond, blue skies and nice weather had them both hoping it would warm up enough for a swim soon. His head lowered, hair flopping forward as he reread the document briefly and then  scowled looking for all intents and purposes like he was readying to crumple it with both hands 'must be record business stuff I guess' she mused. John then had second thoughts, he folded the letter away in quarters, shoving it in his pocket. Not thinking much of it Issy finished the last item, picked up the pile of tea towels and wandered away from the window back through into the kitchen.

**

It was a little after two when he eventually wandered in, full on sweating, and red in the face. After earlier in the day yelling through the screen door,that he was taking the dogs for a hike, John disappeared for a few hours; the birch had swallowed him, taking him away toward the hills. Issy had watched him stride from view through the second floor window.

She on the other hand, had been hammering away typing and, truth be told, she had been somewhat distant with him as she re-worked the blasted words again.

It was hard. You get something in your head, how it sounds, feels and gels and then you have to rip it apart like a completed jigsaw puzzle, to re-sort and do all over again!

Frustration surrounded her as she stared down at the scarcely started page, she'd never had to censor herself before.

This was stupid, were the words really so bad?

She couldn't even go back over them now. John had absconded with the offending pages pronto and found a bloody good hiding spot (his words) for them. He'd not handed them over when she asked, rightly fearing, she'd start a fire with them.

'You forgot to take a drink with you"

"No shit"

John fell onto the timber kitchen stool with a thump, sculled the water Issy had set on the chicken and rooster adorned placemat and went to pour another from the pitcher, into the hi-ball tumbler.

"Was it beautiful?" Issy smiled wistfully thinking of the gorgeous scene, the breeze and way you felt closer to heaven whenever you were up on the ridge. The salad sandwich she had made for him sat to his left, untouched, but that was to be expected, he was hot and tired, a sandwich was probably last on his list at the moment.

"Always" John muttered shortly, she watched him pick at the scuff of linoleum on the placemat. Bothered he was, no doubt about it.

Issy wondered, as she washed up her own lunch plate, how to broach the unknown subject of bother.

John watched her take the tea towel to a plate and wipe it dry. So easy all this- life, lake, Isabelle; when really it wasn't so. Expectations lorded over him for as long as he could remember. If it wasn't Eppy and the Beatles' multitude of appointments, recordings and tours 'we must please the fans', it was Mimi's constant harping about school, grades and being on time; 'don't be late' on repeat. Or Cyn 'where have you been- it's 3 in the morning and you smell of dope'. Even Julian would ring to ask if he was finishing off the album today, tomorrow, last Tuesday- next week......

"I'm needed back in New York, an..... an appointment has cropped up" John bald faced lied and immediately cringed inside. It wasn't an appointment it was a threat and if he didn't go to it, it would surely come to him.

The wedding loomed and he'd promised everyone his help; He helped arrange Julian's day. Happily helped arrange Julian's day with him.

He'd pressed Sally, handing her an open cheque, to buy more flowers after watching her hum and haw over the dollar signs as she saw her wedding budget blow out and had even offered to baby sit so they could go out and not worry about the wedding day jitters and stress with a  bub in tow. He was being a dad for once in his life to his eldest son and it felt fantastic.

Could he stop this before it started, he'd have to try, if only to hold the inevitable off til afterwards.

"Ohh that's a shame, we won't be able to go back down together" Issy pouted then turned on a grin, trying to muster a similar response from one apprehensive looking John.

"Yea cropped up last minute. I got a letter" Looking down he knew the placemat was going to have a whopping big hole in it soon but he couldn't seem to stop, like a dog with a bone he kept breaking away minute pieces and sitting them by his sandwich on the bench. Issy turned back to the sink to wipe the stainless steel down so it wouldn't mark with water stains.

"Yea, I know" She hung the tea towel up with her back to John, placing it over the handle of the oven. He lifted his brow watching her movements, a perplexed look on his face. She busied herself filling the kettle, placing it on the stove, still wondering why he was being a bit 'funny.'

"You know.. what exactly?"

"I know you got a letter, I saw you reading it out on the driveway earlier"

"Oh yeah right, of course" Any bigger of a sigh and she would have heard it, he swept the placemat crumbs into his hand and walked it over to the trash can.

"You want this?" Issy tapped the sandwich plate as she watched him dust his hands with what looked like the weight of the world on his shoulders. Everything seemed to be in slow motion like a movie projector was set up in slow-mo, perhaps it was just him... wanting everything to last.

"Yea why not, ta luv" John recovered his brain from joining the plastic crumbs in the bin and kissed Issy on the forehead fleetingly, rounded the bench and sat heavily on the stool for the second time.

"Watch my poor stool, it'll fall apart" Smiling, trying, Issy pushed the sandwich closer and John nodded thanks, fingers now plucking at the crusts. "Are you alright? Not bad news was it?"

Shaking his head in the negative convincing her, trying to convince himself, and the shit still rattled about in his head. He endeavoured to quell her worry "What.. No, umm work stuff, is all. Someone wanting something"

"I hope they worded it better than that" Issy smiled sweetly and, as she walked to the back door, she ran a hand along Johns shoulders.

She stepped into the sliver of sunlight shining in the doorway. It had not long started crawling in the house from the west and soon would cast a long, heated tongue of light through the room. Pressing both hands on the flyscreen she watched a powerboat race about with a skier towed behind, it was creating an awful wash against the banks. John joined her with a question on his face so she obliged him with a little more of her thoughts.

"Someone. Something ..."

"Just work stuff, nothing to worry about"
He hoped.

*****

Traffic hampered him, the snarl snaked forever.

Brake lights, horns and the odd bicycle courier. All creating, and making noise. An ugly red caterpillar of holdups. And he was angry... Angry because the bikes were going faster than he was.

She packed him some sandwiches and a flask of tea, just in case he wanted to pull off the road and have a blow before this, the chaos of city. She kissed him and squeezed him and touched his cheek like some sort of fortune teller that knew what lay ahead.
She smiled, and did, and said, all the right things as he bent to pet the dogs goodbye, and he grinned back down at her as she lifted her smile up to his.  She had held him, with her warm hands surrounding.

But still he felt he was lying. He hadn't, of course, not precisely anyhow- yet.

But he wasn't being open and honest either. And that was not right, not when you have someone like her, so open and honest with her feelings. It wasn't right...

Perhaps he should call her, before the 'appointment'.

His knees held the wheel as he held his fingers up in the air, saying the word appointment in inverted commas. It wasn't. It was a summons, a threat, blackmail.... All of the above perhaps. And if he didn't attend, run to the source...What then? What would happen?

Who would be hurt by his actions this time...

**

Falling face first on the bed he had shared with Isabelle he wanted to have her there now, right next to him. She would stroke his back and touch him nice, making him feel better, make him horny, make him forget....

Alcohol is what started all this, right when he was finishing it, funnily enough.

If he hadn't gone to AA. If he hadn't attended meetings each week; he wouldn't be here.

In this huge, recently broken-in bed, alone.

Fuck. My. Life.

Picking himself up, he walked unhurried down the hall to telephone her, kicking the living room furniture as he passed.

'Call to tell me you're there safe, as soon as you arrive' she'd told him.

Such a worrier she was.

From alcohol he'd got her too. Made her upset, pissed her off, won her heart. Now how do you get all that while you're drunk. I should have had prison bars or gutters in back alleyways and instead, I got a pretty mermaidian jackpot.

Now...

I should tell her, she should stay away from me for a bit. How do I tell her; Ask her to do that? When I've made it entirely clear I love her without saying the bloody words.

I've given her a new fucking bed and linen and she knows every damn code and phone number for the entire Dakota security detail and elevator. Everything opening for her when she wants because I wanted, and got...

Calling off, after feigning light-hearted happiness as she chattered away about the dogs chasing a rabbit, John, again, found himself face down on the bed...

****

The sunlight woke him.

He must have slept at some point in the past two hours, because, before that, he had paced the balcony while smoking his weight in cigarettes.

He'd been so good too.... Hardly smoking in Isabelle's company, now he was back to being an industrial chimney blowing plumes of smoke like he was the entire industrial revolution. His clothes would smell so bad.

Too lazy for a shower, too forgetful to drink his tea John pulled on jeans, red shirt and a cashmere pullover. Lacing up joggers for a quick getaway, he stood and pulled out a new pack of fags from the carton above the fridge shoving them in his back pocket, lighter in the smaller one at the front. Sunnies today, his bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes required the hiding place, not to mention to deter unwanted attention, although he'd get it anyway.

They all knew his face, fucking nose, should have had a rhino-whatsit like Cyn did... made it like Richy's... He sniggered at the thought. A laugh for the first, and possibly, last time that day.

Hovering by the rolodex he see-sawed over calling Leon, this wasn't his scene but if he's got a certificate for one, you can surely do the other.

Leon Wildes was a godsend of a legal eagle during the immigration trial, easy to converse with, understanding, open to Johns coarse and somewhat off kilter banter but it was one more, wasn't it...

One more person knowing.

He wanted no one to know about this.

He dove into a cab and went to his 'appointment' downtown.

To be continued....