Hey guys! I've had writer's block for the longest time and couldn't figure out where to start this chapter which honestly sucked. I'm happy to inform you all that my New Year's resolution is to continually update this story (and the stories I write in the future) every Wednesday because I feel so bad about not updating often. I understand that I'm a bit late for Wednesday, but I just wanted to get this chapter out there. Hopefully, I haven't lost too many readers because of my hiatus…and if so, I'm sorry to those who left. On a lighter note, I'm pretty stoked to say that a Ringo fic is underway! I've never written one featuring Ringo primarily, but 'The Girl who Came to Stay' is going to be my first shot. Look out for it as soon as 'Lost Lennon' is finished! Hope you guys had a great holiday season as well as New Year's!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you may recognize.

"So, after all this time he still hasn't called?" Uncle Paul asked while biting into his hamburger.

"Nope," I replied, pushing my rice pudding around in its dish. "I'm beginning to give up on him."

Paul and I were sitting in a booth at my favorite twenty-four hour diner. After we had our very public reunion, Uncle Paul finished his set and then decided to take me out for dinner.

"You can't give up on your old man, you guys are blood." He sighed.

"He's given up on Julian and I." I mumbled back, shoving another spoonful of pudding into my mouth.

"No he hasn't. He's just ashamed of himself."

"That doesn't make much sense…"

"It does. I've known John for many years and he's done this with me before. He's so ashamed that he's cutting off contact."

I was skeptical.

"I just feel like he's trying to forget us." I said.

Uncle Paul took a sip of his drink. "He can't forget you…or Julian, or Cyn, or me, or the Beatles! We've all made such an impact on his life."

I really wanted to believe Paul, but after thinking it over for a little bit, I couldn't do it. I didn't believe my father was "ashamed" of himself for leaving; Julian and I saw him on the television with Yoko and Sean all the time, looking happier with them than he'd ever been with us.

"I don't want to call him anymore." I basically whispered.

Uncle Paul reached across the sticky table and grabbed my hand.

"Keep calling him, love. I know that he'll pick up."

In all honesty, I really hoped Uncle Paul was right. Maybe one day John would pick up my calls…or maybe one day call me first. What more could I do than hope?

Soon after that, Uncle Paul let go of my hand and finished off his dinner and the waitress dropped off the check. I reached for it, but Paul practically smacked my hand away from it.

"Ladies aren't supposed to pay the check on dates," He said, smiling.

I felt bad. "If you pay the check, I'll do the tip."

"Deal,"

I put some money on the table and then got up from the booth, dragging my coat along behind me. I shrugged it on and all the while Uncle Paul was watching me.

"You've really grown up… you look more like your father now than you used to."

I smiled. "Thanks…I guess?"

Uncle Paul laughed and then wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Together we walked out of the diner and into the cold night air. He used the payphone to call a car to take him back to his hotel. Once he hung up, I hugged him.

"I've got to go, Uncle Paul. It was great seeing you." I said into his shoulder.

"You're walking home? That's a little too dangerous for you, don't you think?"

"Nah," I said while pulling away from him. "I do it all the time."

"…But at this time of night?"

I looked at my watch and discovered it was midnight. "Technically, it's morning."

"You're definitely John's kid. Are you sure you don't want to be dropped off at your house?"

"I'm positive, but thank you."

No sooner had I said that, Paul's driver parked his red Corvette by the curb. Uncle Paul quickly scribbled something down on the back of the dinner bill and then handed it to me. It was his phone number.

"If you guys ever need me, don't hesitate to call!" He said while getting into the passenger seat.

"I will," I said as the car started to pull away.

"Seriously, call me!" He yelled to me as the car drove down the street and then turned left.

I folded the slip of paper and then stuffed it into my pocket.

I walked down the sidewalk to my next favorite haunt: The Cyrinda. When I made it inside the place, I picked my way through drunk men and equally wasted women to the huge, cherry wood bar.

"Hey, Flo!" Dexter, the bartender called a little too loudly. "Pick your poison!"

I ordered a Long Island iced tea and watched as he made it. When he passed it over to me, I took a long sip of my much needed drink. I people-watched for a while, figuring out which drink each person had and so on. I wondered if I was like my father behaviorally. Was I becoming addicted to unhealthy substances like he used to be? Was I a bar-rat like him? I pushed those thoughts away and downed the rest of my drink. Pretty soon, one Long Island iced tea turned into two and then my vision began to blur.

I remember looking at the clock and discovering that it was close to three in the morning.

"Flo," Dexter said while patting my arm. "The bar's about to close. Do you need a ride home?"

My vision was swimming again and there looked to be about two of him in front of me. "No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm fine, Dex. I didn't have that much…"

This time Dexter grabbed my arm and began walking me toward the door, all the while trying to persuade me into his car.

"Get off me!" I hissed nastily, and he did.

I stumbled onto the pavement. I didn't even watch as Dexter locked up the bar, I just made my way down the road while trying to light a cigarette. I shuffled through street after street, dropping cigarette after cigarette still trying to light one. I burned my fingers with my lighter a few times, but I was so happily numb that the burning felt good.

I came across my street after a half an hour of wandering. All the streetlights were off and the houses dark. They all looked so empty and dead and I wondered if my house looked that way, too, at night. When I got there, I discovered it didn't. All of the lights were on and I could see my mother pacing the kitchen through one of the windows. I lugged my body up the three concrete steps that led to our front door and then tripped on my own feet into it, face first.

I figured I'd have a lump the size of a golf ball on my forehead when I woke up, hangover, the next morning.

The next thing I knew, Cyn flung open the door and looked around, not seeing me at first. I hoped she wouldn't find me, but she eventually looked down and saw the mess that was her daughter in a drunken heap on the doorstep.

"Where the hell have you been?" She spat at me.

Cyn grabbed both of my arms and hauled me into the house. I was then dragged into the kitchen and pushed into a chair. Cyn started pacing in front of me again, looking absolutely livid.

"I said," she began again. "Where have you been?"

I saw Julian watching me from the living room, a disdainful expression on his face.

"Answer me, Florence Jane!" Cyn bellowed.

I just then realized how Aunt Maggie felt when she got into it with Cyn. It wasn't a pleasant thing. As much as I wanted to say something to her, I just couldn't find the right words. No excuses came to mind, no answers to her questions, nothing.

I decided to wing a response so I opened my mouth, but Cyn slapped my left cheek, hard, causing me to close it. I was positive that she left an angry, red handprint on my face. Didn't she want me to answer her a few seconds ago?

"I've been waiting hours for you to come home! Do you not understand how worried I was? You could have been killed or kidnapped! I was so close to calling the police, Florence, but then you come waltzing in, smelling like a liquor store! I don't even want you in this house anymore!"

That sobered me up quickly.

"Fine, I'll leave." I said and then got up from my chair, fixing to go to my room to pack.

Cyn grabbed a fist full of my jacket and then slammed me back into the sitting position.

"Don't you ever talk back to me again!"

Cyn continued to pace the room. It got awkwardly silent for years it seemed, until Cyn turned to me one more time.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you. Julian told me about his friend who saw you smoking, and just the other day some shelf-stocker at the liquor store asked how you were…we don't even know that kid, Florence! I'm calling your father, go up to your room."

I stood up. "But…"

If she was going to be contacting my father, my room was the once place I really didn't want to be at that moment.

"I said go!" My mother yelled back, now standing by the phone, receiver in hand.

I didn't hesitate. Of course, before I dragged myself upstairs, I glared at Julian and he just looked at me. I couldn't tell if he was with me or against me anymore, and that stung.

Once I was up in my room, I collapsed into my bed and took a few deep breaths before quietly picking up my own telephone. I knew that one day the eavesdropping technique Julian taught me when we were thirteen would come in handy.

I pressed the pale blue receiver to my ear and held by breath as I listened to my mother bargain with Yoko. She really didn't like us at all.

"He's in the shower." She said abruptly as soon as my mother uttered her name.

"It's an emergency." Cyn replied, letting out one long breath, sounding exhausted and flustered at the same time.

"John doesn't have time to talk right now. Can you call back tomorrow?"

"Yoko, we both know that if I call tomorrow, we are going to be having the same conversation we're having now. Just put John on the line, please."

There was silence for a moment and then I heard shuffling and mumbling from Yoko's line.

Finally, I heard him. That nasal voice I missed so much…

"What?" John said, not sounding all that thrilled to be talking to his ex-wife.

"John, it's Florence."

"What about 'er?"

"She's…She's, I don't know how to say this, but she's been smoking and drinking excessively."

John didn't say anything for a bit. "Did something happen to her or…?"

"No, no, not yet, but tonight she came home completely wasted and I-I just don't know what to do anymore."

My mind flashed back to the time John caught me smoking his cigarettes.

"I want her to stay with you, John."

And suddenly, all three of us were dead quiet. You could have heard a pin drop in those few seconds. It almost made me uncomfortable listening in, like they somehow found out I was listening just then.

"I can't send her to a rehab center, John, I just can't."

"I really don't know if I can do…."

"John, I'm so afraid she's going to end up doing drugs. I've seen what they did to you and I can't bear the thought of it happening to her, too."

Again there was silence, and then: "Okay…okay. I'll send for her tomorrow morning. Just have her at the airport by nine." He said softly.

I quietly hung up and stared around my room in disbelief.

I was going to New York to see my father. Uncle Paul had been right.

So, what did you guys think? Was it okay? I know Cyn was OOC, but it just all played into the grand scheme of things. Hopefully you liked this chapter, and if you did, please review! I'll see you all next Wednesday!