6.
Jonathan rode the pristine elevator to his penthouse, mentally exhausted and frustrated from the events of the day. He opened the massive uniquely carved wooden door and stepped into his home of peace and love and tranquility. Willow and Zayn heard his entry and ran as they always did to welcome their father, their hero, home. He bent down and hugged them both a little longer and a little tighter than usual. Cassia came up behind the children wiping her hands on a dish towel well aware of what had taken place on set.
‘Hey babe, how you feeling?’
Jonathan looked at her questionably enquiring with his eyes as to whether she had watched the show or not. Cassia motioned with her a nod of her head for him to join her in the kitchen. He stood up and followed her.
Entering the kitchen, the children ran back to the movie they were watching, Cassia handed Jonathan a glass of red wine. Jonathan took a gulp of wine, let out a long breath of air and a heavy sigh. He leant against the counter with his rear and started the conversation ‘So you saw my little theatrics.’
‘Babe what happened? You have never lost your temper like that ever. Is the pressure getting to you?’ Cassia could hardly understand what had caused her perfect gentleman of a husband to react the way he did. She stroked his hair around his ear lovingly.
‘I don’t know what happened. It was like something snapped inside of me when I fell over the chair. I got such a fright when that light crashed right next to me. My heart was pounding so wildly; I had no control over what I was saying it all just flew out of my mouth. I felt so bad and for the entire first half, all I thought about was that that performance was my last. I just had to make it right again for the show, Alex and everyone involved. I still don’t think Alex has forgiven me.’ He downed the rest of his wine and poured another glass, throwing down a swig before standing it on the counter top.
Cassia embraced her husband ‘I will call Dr Dravid tomorrow and get him to prescribe something for anxiety just for when you need it. Jonathan began to protest, but Cassia put her fingers on his lips and insisted - he was too tired to bother arguing.
Cassia ran a huge hot bath with essential oils and bubbles and assisted Jonathan into the bath to soak away the day and ease the tension in his body. He rested back in the massive tub drifting into a solace of tranquility. There was a tap on the door ‘Come in.’
Willow and Zayn quietly stepped closer to the bathtub to say good night.
Cassia handed Jonathan two white pills and a glass of water before ushering the children to bed.
Jonathan relished the silence and the warm water shriveling his skin in its soothing therapy. He looked about at his massive en-suite bathroom – gold taps and towel rails, grey marble tiles, black marble surface top around the gold wash basins, water jets in the bath to massage your body (that were currently on), the shower was the size of an average middle-class bathroom. He smiled at his afforded luxury which helped him to recover further.
An hour later thudded into his custom designed king sized bed, with satin sheets directly from the bath and thanks to the two white pills fell asleep immediately.
His conscious however had other plans than allowing a peaceful night’s sleep, he tossed and turned restlessly until at almost three in the morning he was wide awake. He tried to go back to sleep but to no avail, so he did the next best thing and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. While he had the chance of being alone and without distraction, he could catch up on some work. He had meant to research new material for the show.
The light flicked on and brightly reflected off the stone black marble worktops; the grey cupboards enhanced the black. Cassia never went to bed unless her massive kitchen was spotlessly clean. The grey tiled floor sparkled it was so clean that it could reflect your image. The water in the kettle boiled on the Smeg gas stove; the kettle whistled for attention. Jonathan pulled out his favourite coffee mug – “World’s greatest dad” was painted on it – and made himself a cup of expensive Colombian coffee. When he had these mornings of no sleep, he preferred the very expensive imported Colombian coffee to that from the Italian coffee in an overpriced coffee machine.
He took his coffee to his home office, turned on his laptop and started researching. He had a niggle bugging his sub-conscious of something he could not yet figure out.