Two Different Roads

You're Gonna Lose That Girl

The next few months passed quickly. Ellen's work days remained long, but her nights weren't lonely anymore. John made an effort to come over, stay with her as often as he could manage, and when he went out with one of The other Beatles, he often brought her along, Cynthia believing he was simply having a guy's night.
She attended parties with him, danced at the Scotch of St. James club, enjoyed concerts, among them Bob Dylan, even browsed an art gallery with him and Paul.
By now, it was as if EVERYONE knew they were a couple except for his wife. It was all so different this time. JOHN was different. She could swear that he was even making an effort to remain faithful, as faithful as it was possible for him to be anyway.
If asked, she would have said she was content, even happy. She liked the combination of independence, freedom, her job afforded and the connection in her relationship with Lennon. She had both a life with him and one fairly separate.
She strongly suspected that would not have been the case with Mike. Her life would have become HIS life. At least that was what she told herself to banish the regret in the moments that she missed him.
Those moments still came more frequently than she liked. She kept in touch with Peter, not only to retain their friendship but to hear news of her former lover. The show had been picked up, and they'd started filming. She didn't enquire about much else. She really didn't want to know if Mike was involved with someone else or multiple someone's as he had every right to do.
This fact indicated of course that there were residual feeling left behind she chose not to examine too closely. Surely they would dissipate eventually. Wouldn't they?
II
Ellen and John lay curled together on her couch, her back against his chest, engrossed in one of Lennon's recent favorite authors, Aldous Huxley. The tv was on, but silent (another of her lover's preferences), John's voice reading aloud the only sound in the room. It had served as a comfort to her since she was a child, and she found herself close to drifting off under its familiar, calming influence when the phone suddenly rang.
"I'll get it. Macca said he'd call if he got that song done."
"Who is it?" She asked from beside him.
"Don't know. They didn't say anything." He hung up.
"You don't think it was Cynthia do you?"
"No. She would have called Paul first, and then he'd have called to warn me. Just relax Luv."
He placed the book on the coffee table, somehow manipulated their bodies to get her underneath him. "I'm tired of reading. Let's do something else."
III
A man's voice. He was too late. Why had he waited so long to swallow his pride and call her? Well, at least he knew now. She'd given up on him. She was with someone else. It was truly over. Rare tears came to his eyes, spilled down his cheeks.
He reached for the phone once more. "Hey Pete, it's Nez. You wanna go out? I'm in the mood to do some howling at the moon."

The Monkees' "All The King's Horses" and "She" also gave me inspiration here.