Nobody Wants To Know Him

Real Love - Epilogue II

Monday 8th December 1980
New York City, United States
10.08am

All my little plans and schemes

Lost like some forgotten dreams

The iconic yellow Checker cab jolted forward as it navigated the bustling streets of New York City, the cacophony of honking horns and distant chatter filling the air. We were stuck in horrific traffic. It wasn't anything new, but travelling (barely) through the city with three children who wouldn't stop asking questions was extremely tiring. It was Tuesday, for goodness sake. Why was there still traffic on the roads at ten o'clock?

I glanced at John, who was sitting beside me, his face glowing with excitement. Everything he had ever wanted and more was happening today. After the release of his novel, 'Homing Bird', he was finally getting the recognition he deserved. People were able to put a face to the name John Lennon now, and the book had become a global bestseller. And now, John claimed this was even better.

Throughout the past year and a half, he's been working on a new project with his mates. Paul's band Wings released their final album, 'Back to the Egg', before deciding to disband. It was done quietly and discreetly, and without a real reason other than 'the time has come'. But they all had, especially Paul, fulfilled a dream with the band, releasing great music and making a career out of it.

And so, with Paul's band no longer existing, he had reached out to John to take him up on a specific offer that John had presented him several years ago.

______

"I think we should work on music together. Like, properly."

He stopped talking for a moment, eyes lighting up slightly as Paul said something.

"It'd be just like the old days, Mac, just in a studio, like. And ye already do that shit anyway. Writing music together and fucking around with our guitars and passing lyrics back and forth and mine will still be better than yers..."

There was a long pause on my end, and whatever Paul was saying caused John to bounce his leg up and down restlessly, gaze fixed upon the ground. Earlier, I could tell roughly what was going on by the expressions John was making, but now... his face was completely blank - void of any tell-tale sign of emotion. Absolutely nothing was being conveyed and I would've been lying if I said it didn't worry me.

Paul could've been saying anything. He could've accepted, and John might be second-guessing himself.

He may have outrightly declined the offer saying he didn't want to work with John now that he had his new band. John would've been absolutely crushed.

Or he may have even got John's hopes up, only to say he was occupied and unable to, which might not have been that surprising as he was an extremely busy man.

"Oh. Alright," spat John in a bitter tone. "Fine. Okay. No, it's fine Paul, I really don't care... I swear! I don't."

He did. But he'd never admit that.

After he put (slammed) the phone down, he leaned back on the sofa and pulled his knees up to his chest, head lolling back as he looked up at the ceiling.

"He's too busy. Says he'll call me if he's free, but 'course he won't ever be." He turned to look at me, eyes narrowing behind those round glasses. Perhaps I should've told John how occupied Paul was before he asked him. "Doesn't matter. I don't care anyway."

______

When he received the phone call from Paul in mid-1979, he just about managed to restrain himself from throwing a fit. It was something that he had wanted from years, yet when it presented itself to him, he didn't believe it. But, as it turned out, Paul had actually already spoken to Ringo and George. Ringo was perfectly happy to drum for the guys, just like it was during their teenage years. George was more reluctant, but he eventually agreed, claiming he didn't have a valid reason to oppose the idea.