June 19, 1973
New York, New York
The Upper West Side
11:00 a.m.
"So, how's Julian?" My dad questioned as we walked down the block, distancing ourselves from The Dakota. It looked so regal for far away, up close it just looked big. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, looking down, even though everyone was looking at him like he was God. When he asked about Julian, it was almost like he was on my level. He wasn't my father John Lennon. He was my dad. My actual dad.
I shrugged, sighing airily, "He's like all little brothers. Annoying, trying to find something entertaining he'll stick with...but still my brother, you know? I like him a lot, he's good to talk to. He's really smart too, gosh. Most kids his age are real obnoxious, dig?"
My dad nodded, looking up. I saw people gaping at me, and many called out to John asking who I was. People photographed me and him, like I was a two headed lion and he was...well, John Lennon. "So he's into guitars, right?"
"He's obsessed," I replied, "He's saving up for a guitar. He's trying to form a band too, you know. All his school mates...I'm trying to convince him to do it for the talent show, just to liven it up, everything is such a snoozer there. Julian will be good. I know he will. He's the smartest kid I know, like I said."
John smirked, lighting up a cigarette, "What a kid. And how about you? You're all classical, I guess. Piano and ballet, right?"
"Well, I'm not prissy!" I complained, furrowing my eyebrows.
"Relax, I read your letters. You must be a handful with all you do for your poor mother."
I rolled my eyes and muttered, "That's why she sent me away. She thinks I'll just magically get myself straight if I hang around your Aunt Mimi, just because she has some of her blood. She doesn't want to send me to you, she just wants me 'straightened out'."
My dad coughed awkwardly and replied, "So, what do you like to eat?"
"Well, I like sushi loads. And pizza." I told him, "Be warned, I'm also a sucker for chocolate. If you don't want to blow your money on desserts, make sure there's no chocolate."
He laughed, "You like sushi?"
"It's to die for. Does Yoko like sushi?"
"Sure does," He replied, "I don't care for it much."
I raised my eyebrows, "You? Really? You two seem like such a match." It killed me to say it.
"Don't seem so surprised."
"I'll try," I retorted quickly. I was sarcastic and witty by habit, it was terrible.
