𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter seventeen: shoebox❜❜

❧April 13, 1961☙

Things for Noah and me were going steady. I was quite content with him. Apparently, he was feeling the same about me because he asked to move in. I was a bit hesitant, but he soon persuaded me. He told me I was being dramatic about it and that it wasn't a big deal because other people did it. I suppose he was right, I was often dramatic, or so he says. 

I hollered at him, "Out to check the mail." 

I quickly left the house and eagerly ran to the mailbox to drop off my letter. I was also hoping to find one from the guys... Yet nothing was in the letterbox. It was safe to say I was disappointed. Maybe they just forgot. I went back inside and walked to my bedroom.

"Did you get any letters? I was supposed to get one from the lads."

Noah shrugged, "I checked the mail. They must have forgotten about ya."

I highly doubted it but didn't say anything in return. 

❧April 20, 1961☙

Lately, I'd been playing my guitar more, which Noah didn't like. I couldn't understand what he had against music, so I just played in private. We were living together, so I had to accommodate him.

Also, I finally talked to Jack and told him I was doing better. He said that he was delighted and would set up some photoshoots outside of Liverpool for me. I was smitten with the idea and glad things were getting back to normal. I just hope Noah wasn't going to blow up about it.

He tended to have a short fuse when it meant I was away from him for a while. He was just a tad clingy, but I didn't mind too much. I couldn't get mad at him over it, or I'd feel bad because apparently, he had been in awful relationships before. He just worried I'd do the same. I assured him I wouldn't, and he needn't worry.

Once again, I checked the mailbox, and nothing was there. I was beginning to believe what Noah was telling me about the lads. I walked into the living room and pouted in front of him.

"What's a matter with you?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

I sighed, "Did you get the mail today?"

"I checked it earlier like I normally do. They didn't send anythin'. Beth, I think they just have forgotten."

I rolled my eyes at the nickname.

"They couldn't possibly forget about me. John said I was one of their best mates." I plopped down beside him.

"Wouldn't put it past that Lennon to lie. If they really cared, they would've sent letters. Maybe you should start to figure out who yer real friends are." He patted my thigh.

I sat in silence, my mood completely ruined. Maybe Noah was right. He wouldn't lie to me; he was always rational. They probably are having too much fun in Hamburg and have completely forgotten about me. I guess my letters might not have been read, a waste of ink.

❧April 27, 1961☙

Another week without a card. I asked Noah like I normally did, and he told me the same thing but really pushed on the fact that they just didn't like me anymore. It hurt to hear, but it made sense. Why would they want to talk with me when they had Hamburg. 

I laid on my bed and strummed the same sad chords I had when I was in America. Noah banged on the door, so I played quieter. He was home, therefore I couldn't be loud, or he'd freak out.