If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 93 - 27.Aug.1967

Chapter 93

August 27, 1967

It was late afternoon, and I was resting in the bunk because another bout of queasiness had made me leave the daily gathering early. And it wasn't only the nausea. I was beyond knackered, too.

John and I had decided to sleep on the tiny bottom bunk together...thinking it would be like when we used to share his bed back at Mimi's house. But we weren't kids anymore, and now I was pregnant. I kept waking up to use the loo and each time I woke up, he woke up too. And while neither of us was sleeping well in the small bed, I didn't want to stop because I loved having his arm around me far too much to sleep anywhere else.

The last two days had been a whirlwind of seminars and press conferences. And we'd also gotten word from Nat Weiss that Henry, the man who posed as my cousin, blackmailed me, and then held a bloody knife to my neck, had pleaded guilty and was given a prison sentence.

It was a relief to know that Henry couldn't come anywhere near us anytime soon, and I tried not to think about him or the disturbed way he thought about the tragic things that happened in our past. Because no matter how convinced he was that I was partly—or mostly—to blame for his brother's death, I knew I couldn't go down that dark hole.

With Henry heading off to prison, the frightening notes and blackmail were finally behind me, exactly where they belonged. It had all been a proper mess for far too long, but at least at the end of it all something had clicked inside me...something that made me realize that closure might not exist. Instead of closure, I understood that what I needed was to work on finally accepting the past for what it was.

Over the last few days in Bangor, I kept my camera around my neck whenever I could, snapping candid photos of the boys and finding my happy place as I watched them so effortlessly act like one cohesive unit.

There was an interesting mix of people at the retreat. Maharishi's regular followers were joined by the Beatles and other pop-star elite. We often sat cross-legged on a wooden floor as Maharishi taught us how to meditate, and then we'd have time to head back to our rooms to try out what we'd learned.

Meditating wasn't bloody easy because my thoughts were almost impossible to turn off, just like they always had been. But I was intent on trying because there was a chance it might really help with so much of what still ate at me, especially at night. And John was so taken with the idea that I was just as interested as he was in learning more. He seemed so pleased, so at ease, and he kept telling me how incredible the experience was for him. It did my heart good to see a bit of a glow back in his cheeks.

The press were everywhere in Bangor—like a bunch of pesky mosquitoes swarming about. And they'd become especially bothersome after a press conference during which the boys announced they'd given up taking drugs, which followed the teachings of Maharishi. The announcement came as a bit of a surprise to the journalists, especially since Paul had admitted to the press back in June that he'd taken LSD on a few occasions.

Photographers followed the boys everywhere they went, snapping pictures of them, of me, and of everyone else traveling with the boys. A few bold journalists even asked if I was pregnant, which was beyond ridiculous because who in their right mind even asked a woman that? But John and I ignored them, his steady hand on my back, and we kept walking anytime they had the nerve to ask.

Now I rubbed a hand over my belly, the motion soothing me and easing the unsettled feeling in my stomach. Maybe I just needed to goddamn eat again, though it seemed like I was eating every hour. The silence in the room was heavenly, and my eyes drooped as sleep beckoned me. I didn't know when John was meant to be back from the daily gathering, but I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to stay awake waiting for the seminar to finish.