Yesterday.
I Should Have Known Better.
For the next couple of weeks, Paul was working so hard on the new record; he only came home for a quick hello and a few pieces of toast. Some days he didn’t even come, nor give me a ring to let me know he wasn’t. I felt like a mess. I needed him like air, yet he was never present. I wasn’t exactly depressed, but I wasn’t myself either. John had made himself accustomed to showing up at my house late at night to visit. For some reason, I looked forward to it. The small bit of communication I had with someone felt refreshing, and sometimes rejuvenating. He kept telling me “he’s working on a hard rift, love, it’ll take a while” or “he’s changing around some of my lyrics, the bastard, ah well.” He wasn’t too uptight about it, so I tried to do the same.
It was a Friday, and Paul absolutely promised he would come home tonight. I wanted to believe him so bad, but I didn’t know if I could. It was out 3 year anniversary, so hopefully he could take a couple of hours off to come see me. I missed him. I missed his laugh, his jokes, his charm… I missed all of it. But even when I did see him he acted like some sort of robot. I knew he was tired, and a bit pissy from having to write all of this music, but he could take a small break, couldn’t he?
It was about 7:00, and I was sitting in the living room with John. He had popped in again to say hello, and play a new song for me on guitar. It was called “I’m Only Sleeping”. He strummed his fingers lucidly along the strings, causing them to sound like singing angels. His voice was crystal clear, much better than on any album. When he finished, I clapped and cheered.
“That was amazing, Johnny.”
“Yeah, Paul says its crap.” He laughed.
“Well Paul’s insane.” I giggled, sweeping over to lock my arms around his neck and hug him. He held my tightly.
“You really like it? Not to cheesy or phony, like most of Macca’s music?”
“Hey, his music’s not cheesy!” I smiled, “and no, it’s not. I love it, John. It’s a hit.”
“Good, I’m glad.” He flushed a darker shade and adverted his eyes downward for a second. I searched his expression.
“Well, look. I better go, Ann. I promised George I would go and have dinner with him, y’know, he’s getting kind of weird with all of this Hare Krishna shite…”
“Aw, don’t pick on George, he’s found something he loves.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked, “Well, ta. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Mhm, Bye John.”
He bent down and kissed my cheek softly before smiling and gliding out the door.
The minute it closed, and I let out a slight ‘humph’ and leaned back, staring at the clock.
I watched as the minute hand moved at an alarming rate, and the hour hand made it’s way to the 9. With every 10 minutes every ounce of hope I had dissolved into disappointment. How could I go on like this? He was my fiancé… for god’s sakes.
That’s it. I was going to go to the studio and find him, either in good spirits, or bad ones. I was going to tell him that this was NOT okay with me, and he needed to get his act together.
With sudden gumption, I jumped into my shoes and ran out the door, almost leaping into my car and driving as fast as I could down the dark road. Since we moved to London, Abbey Road wasn’t too far away. I just had to fight my way through late night London traffic.
I arrived there about 20 minutes later, getting out of my car and walking in. In the front there was a lobby, filled with 3 security guards and a receptionist. I walked over to her.
“Hi Carrey, can I go in and see Paul?”
She looked up, observing my face for a minute, then smiled.
“Oh, Hello Anna. Well, he’s busy right now and requested no visitors…”
“This is important” I snapped, “I really need to talk to him. I think he’ll be okay if I went in for a second.”
“Well…”
“I’m his fiancé; I think I have rights, don’t you?”
She sighed deeply, “Okay, Anna. But I’m not losing my job over this. If he gets angry, blame yourself.”
“Of course, this wasn’t you’re fault.”
She nodded at me, then at the security guards, who all glanced at each other, hesitating to let me pass, but finally moving aside. I nodded at them, and walked in. It was a small, cozy studio with several rooms. I knew my way around pretty well, I’d been here many times before.
I made my way into the main recording room, and knocked on the tech door. At first there was no answer, but I waited anyway. Then, slowly, the door opened. George Martin, their upper class, la-te-da producer poked his head out.
He scanned me, then smiled.
“Oh, hello Anna, dear. What brings you here?”
“I’d like to see Paul.” I smiled lightly at him. He had bags under his eyes, and looked so worn out.
“Um, he left about an hour ago…” He sighed, “He said he was going home… maybe you just missed him when you left?”
I wrinkled my nose. If he’d gone home to find me not there, we’d both be in a bit of a pickle.
“Oh… John told me he was working late to night.” I needed clarification.
“No, he finished laying down some piano tracks, then left.”
I glanced at the ceiling, then nodded.
“Okay, George. Thanks so much.”
“Anytime love. You should pop by later so we can show you some new tracks, I think you’ll really like them.”
“Maybe, I’ll see you then.”
“Of course. Bye, now.”
“Bye.”
He shut the door quietly, and I blinked. I was trying to do the math in my head.
I left the house about 25 minutes ago, and I got here in 20 minutes. He left an hour ago… it didn’t make sense. Maybe he got caught up with something. My mind was still on overdrive as I stumbled my way back to the front lobby, working my way through hallways and corners. Then, I got inspiration. I was going to go up and visit Ringo in his practice room, I knew he’d be in there, he always was. I turned around, then walked up the steep set of stairs to the right of the studio. Once I reached the top, I turned left and made my way down the hallway. I saw the door, and reached out for it, hearing Ringo’s drumming on the other end. I turned the knob, when another noise reached my ears. It was from the other end of the hallway, coming out of a door that was cracked open. I ignored it, and turned my attention back to the door. But then, a familiar voice leaked from the open door, and my body froze. I turned and ran, full speed down the hallway, slamming the door open. There, right there, my entire life shattered. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I could feel my heart ripping itself to shreds in my chest. My breathing got short, and hitched in my throat. Hot tears burned the rim of my eyes.
They were under covers, on a cot on the floor. The gorgeous blonde he was with moaned his name over and over again.
“Paul… Paul!”
I gasped lightly, a tear spilling down my face. Paul heard it, and whipped his head again, his eyes freezing on me.
“Shit.” Was all he seemed to be able to say. He was frozen too. I shook my head, staring right into his eyes.
Then, I turned and ran. I tried not to hear the blonde going “Paul, who was that? God, she looks miserable!”
I closed my eyes and prayed that I wouldn’t run into anything, even though I did. I felt arms around my waste. I struggled, but gave up, opening my eyes. Ringo was holding me in his arms, cradling me.
“What the bloody hell, Ann?” He whispered, “What the hell?”
“Get me OUT of here!” I screamed, sobbing into his chest.
He didn’t ask questions, he just started towing me down the stairs. Paul didn’t even come after me.
It was a Friday, and Paul absolutely promised he would come home tonight. I wanted to believe him so bad, but I didn’t know if I could. It was out 3 year anniversary, so hopefully he could take a couple of hours off to come see me. I missed him. I missed his laugh, his jokes, his charm… I missed all of it. But even when I did see him he acted like some sort of robot. I knew he was tired, and a bit pissy from having to write all of this music, but he could take a small break, couldn’t he?
It was about 7:00, and I was sitting in the living room with John. He had popped in again to say hello, and play a new song for me on guitar. It was called “I’m Only Sleeping”. He strummed his fingers lucidly along the strings, causing them to sound like singing angels. His voice was crystal clear, much better than on any album. When he finished, I clapped and cheered.
“That was amazing, Johnny.”
“Yeah, Paul says its crap.” He laughed.
“Well Paul’s insane.” I giggled, sweeping over to lock my arms around his neck and hug him. He held my tightly.
“You really like it? Not to cheesy or phony, like most of Macca’s music?”
“Hey, his music’s not cheesy!” I smiled, “and no, it’s not. I love it, John. It’s a hit.”
“Good, I’m glad.” He flushed a darker shade and adverted his eyes downward for a second. I searched his expression.
“Well, look. I better go, Ann. I promised George I would go and have dinner with him, y’know, he’s getting kind of weird with all of this Hare Krishna shite…”
“Aw, don’t pick on George, he’s found something he loves.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked, “Well, ta. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Mhm, Bye John.”
He bent down and kissed my cheek softly before smiling and gliding out the door.
The minute it closed, and I let out a slight ‘humph’ and leaned back, staring at the clock.
I watched as the minute hand moved at an alarming rate, and the hour hand made it’s way to the 9. With every 10 minutes every ounce of hope I had dissolved into disappointment. How could I go on like this? He was my fiancé… for god’s sakes.
That’s it. I was going to go to the studio and find him, either in good spirits, or bad ones. I was going to tell him that this was NOT okay with me, and he needed to get his act together.
With sudden gumption, I jumped into my shoes and ran out the door, almost leaping into my car and driving as fast as I could down the dark road. Since we moved to London, Abbey Road wasn’t too far away. I just had to fight my way through late night London traffic.
I arrived there about 20 minutes later, getting out of my car and walking in. In the front there was a lobby, filled with 3 security guards and a receptionist. I walked over to her.
“Hi Carrey, can I go in and see Paul?”
She looked up, observing my face for a minute, then smiled.
“Oh, Hello Anna. Well, he’s busy right now and requested no visitors…”
“This is important” I snapped, “I really need to talk to him. I think he’ll be okay if I went in for a second.”
“Well…”
“I’m his fiancé; I think I have rights, don’t you?”
She sighed deeply, “Okay, Anna. But I’m not losing my job over this. If he gets angry, blame yourself.”
“Of course, this wasn’t you’re fault.”
She nodded at me, then at the security guards, who all glanced at each other, hesitating to let me pass, but finally moving aside. I nodded at them, and walked in. It was a small, cozy studio with several rooms. I knew my way around pretty well, I’d been here many times before.
I made my way into the main recording room, and knocked on the tech door. At first there was no answer, but I waited anyway. Then, slowly, the door opened. George Martin, their upper class, la-te-da producer poked his head out.
He scanned me, then smiled.
“Oh, hello Anna, dear. What brings you here?”
“I’d like to see Paul.” I smiled lightly at him. He had bags under his eyes, and looked so worn out.
“Um, he left about an hour ago…” He sighed, “He said he was going home… maybe you just missed him when you left?”
I wrinkled my nose. If he’d gone home to find me not there, we’d both be in a bit of a pickle.
“Oh… John told me he was working late to night.” I needed clarification.
“No, he finished laying down some piano tracks, then left.”
I glanced at the ceiling, then nodded.
“Okay, George. Thanks so much.”
“Anytime love. You should pop by later so we can show you some new tracks, I think you’ll really like them.”
“Maybe, I’ll see you then.”
“Of course. Bye, now.”
“Bye.”
He shut the door quietly, and I blinked. I was trying to do the math in my head.
I left the house about 25 minutes ago, and I got here in 20 minutes. He left an hour ago… it didn’t make sense. Maybe he got caught up with something. My mind was still on overdrive as I stumbled my way back to the front lobby, working my way through hallways and corners. Then, I got inspiration. I was going to go up and visit Ringo in his practice room, I knew he’d be in there, he always was. I turned around, then walked up the steep set of stairs to the right of the studio. Once I reached the top, I turned left and made my way down the hallway. I saw the door, and reached out for it, hearing Ringo’s drumming on the other end. I turned the knob, when another noise reached my ears. It was from the other end of the hallway, coming out of a door that was cracked open. I ignored it, and turned my attention back to the door. But then, a familiar voice leaked from the open door, and my body froze. I turned and ran, full speed down the hallway, slamming the door open. There, right there, my entire life shattered. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I could feel my heart ripping itself to shreds in my chest. My breathing got short, and hitched in my throat. Hot tears burned the rim of my eyes.
They were under covers, on a cot on the floor. The gorgeous blonde he was with moaned his name over and over again.
“Paul… Paul!”
I gasped lightly, a tear spilling down my face. Paul heard it, and whipped his head again, his eyes freezing on me.
“Shit.” Was all he seemed to be able to say. He was frozen too. I shook my head, staring right into his eyes.
Then, I turned and ran. I tried not to hear the blonde going “Paul, who was that? God, she looks miserable!”
I closed my eyes and prayed that I wouldn’t run into anything, even though I did. I felt arms around my waste. I struggled, but gave up, opening my eyes. Ringo was holding me in his arms, cradling me.
“What the bloody hell, Ann?” He whispered, “What the hell?”
“Get me OUT of here!” I screamed, sobbing into his chest.
He didn’t ask questions, he just started towing me down the stairs. Paul didn’t even come after me.
♠ ♠ ♠
SURPRISE!