The World Spinning Round (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

15. My Mind Is On The Blink

October 1968
Paul

My foot tapped restlessly on the pavement as I waited across the street from Teagan's flat. My brain was stuck between feeling uneasy about the dinner party and wondering if I could turn this rhythm into the backbone of a song.

It was the first time Alice had invited me out with her mates since... whatever this was... had started. It was also the first time I'd seen Teagan since the whole Maggie thing. Did she know all the gory details? I bet she did. Did she hate me? Or did she hate the idea of me--the barbaric man who had betrayed her friend--but she didn't mind the actual me?

My new loafers were from Chelsea Cobbler on the King's Road. They'd cost 10 guineas, and the shopkeeper had promised Mal they'd last a lifetime. When he'd dropped them off at Cavendish, we'd intensely debated whether the shoes were a) black or b) a burgundy so deep that it was almost black. In the end, we'd agreed to disagree but both wholeheartedly concurred that 10 guineas was far too much for a pair of shoes.

So, there I was, across from Teagan's place, tapping my maybe-black-possibly-burgundy loafers on the pavement, hoping against hope that no one would recognize me. Because I really wasn't in the mood to smile and sign for anyone. I was saving up all my energy to re-impress Alice's friends, hoping they'd encourage her to make this more than it presently was.

I'd built my outfit around the new shoes, pairing them with grey trousers and a happening grey-and-purple paisley shirt from Guys' n Dolls. Except was the shirt really happening? Ringo had certainly thought so, but suppose Alice was right and the King's Road was finished. Meaning that anything purchased from any shop there was also finished. Meaning that this shirt was so five minutes ago that it might as well be five years ago.

And, more importantly, was the print even paisley? The more I squinted down at the crisp fabric, the more I wondered if it was small lizards with their tails wrapped around each other. Was I wearing a lizard shirt? A fucking lizard shirt?!

Fucking hell. Was this my life now? Second-guessing everything that had to do with Alice. Unable to find my usual equilibrium--my fucking safe space--within the band. Going to these shitty recording sessions where I was the only one who seemed to care if things were done right. Dodging barbed comments from John and George, all while trying to make the record more cohesive, which it was most certainly not. And all I got in return for all my efforts were half-smiles from Alice and withering looks from the lads.

God, I missed Eppy. He wouldn't have accidentally purchased a lizard shirt. But maybe it was paisley after all, and everything would be alright.

"Hi, stranger."

Alice appeared out of nowhere, looking serene in a long cerulean blue dress cinched at the waist by a double-wide belt. Her hair hung loose and wavy, her Birkin fringe framing her face. She looked exceptionally fit, and I wondered if she'd come from home. Stated another way: Had she dressed up for me or her Zarby clients? Or maybe it was true that women dressed for other women, and all this effort was for Teagan.

While I was busy overthinking, Alice's eyes dropped to my shirt.

"Are those lizards?"

"I knew it," I muttered, stifling a groan and running a hand through my hair. "You think it's one pattern, and it's a different one altogether. Fashion is a scam, Liss."

She launched into what could only be a pity explanation of how lizards are considered to be a symbol of good luck in some cultures. Or symbols of renewal. Something about geckos and the Dominican Republic. I didn't even know if it was true, but she said it all very convincingly.

"Why couldn't I just have worn that blueish-greenish shirt from Zarby?" I asked. "Why'd you bother giving it to me if I can't wear it out of the house?"