Linda's POV
~~~~
Where am I? Why does my body not hurt? Am I not on the couch?
I pat around me and feel soft blankets surrounding me in a sun-like warmth. Rain tapped against the window like nails on a counter. I slowly opened my eyes to see white walls and a popcorn ceiling. Sure enough, I'm in a bed and not the couch. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and sit up, stretching my back and rubbing my chilled arms. My bags sit by the door, untouched and lifeless.
Oh god, please don't tell me I did something reckless last night when we went out to the pubs with George. I place my feet on the wood flooring, tiredly standing up and walk into the kitchen. A piece of paper sits on the island, a note scribbled out.
Hey, Linda. I know last night was a little rough on you since you're a bit of a light weight so I took the couch last night and let you rest on the comfy mattress. Painkillers are by the sink, you can get water through the tap and tea bags and biscuits are in that cupboard with a picture of 15 year old George's face on it. (Doesn't he just look so cute as a teddy boy look alike?) I left early for the shop this morning and Stuart said he would be home early today so if you need anything just ask him and he'll kindly do it for you. If I can't reach you before your flight, I hope you have a safe trip back home and call me when you get back to your place.
Love ye mate,
- John W. Lennon
I suddenly feel all of the pain rush to the front of my skull, piercing my brain. I rip open the package of pain killers and down two of the pills. I swig it all back with water from the tap and wipe the water on the side of mouth away. The clock tells me it's eight in the morning, so he couldn't have left too long ago. I walk back into his room and slip on a sweatshirt with some older pants that I brought along for the flight home, and my converse again. Should I have breakfast? Maybe.
I fling open the cabinet with George's adorable smile on it and rip the wrapper off of the tin of biscuits, taking about four and putting the rest back on the shelf. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the air flow through my lungs and pure silence hit my eardrums. Eh, it's too eerie in here. I grab all of my stuff and head out the door and down the stairs into the hustle and bustle just like I have back at home.
"Hey, John." I greet him, the little bell ticking in my ears.
"Hey."
I set my stuff by the door and walk over to the records. I pick out the one I was looking for and place it in front of John, to which I get a raised eyebrow and a stare.
"You sure you want this? You don't even like them."
I nod confidently and gesture for him to look at the price for me, grabbing my wallet out of my back trouser pocket. I hand him the money, much to his demise, and he gives me back some of the change.
"You like The Rolling Stones, so I'll get their latest album. I don't think I'll ever be coming back, so I just need a reminder of when my life gets hectic, I can remember how much fun I had with you, and smile. Then I continue with my life and eventually tell my kids about that trip."
He nods, lowering his head and combing back a section of his hair with his fingers.
"Look," I place a hand on the counter and reach for his chin so he can see me, "I understand what I wanted to know the first day, and I'm so sorry. It was very impulsive and invasive, and I'm normally not like that. Just ask any person in my family. You can explain everything when *you* are ready to tell me, and I'll be waiting in the corner. If you never tell me, that's fine too. It's your life, not a story that I get to dictate." I spoke softly, feeling the texture of his skin. He walked over and nearly toppled me over in a hug, causing me to laugh. I wrapped my arms around him safely, feeling water hit my shoulders. We both pulled away and I wiped a tear from his eye.
