“Kenwood”
Weybridge, Surrey
February 12, 1965
John*
As soon as the door slammed he was tempted to go after her, tell her he didn’t mean it, beg her to stay - but he knew none of it would make any difference. It would only be a matter of time before he hurt her again. She was the last person in his life that deserved it. He was a thoughtless bastard - she was better off without him.
Instead he threw his cup at the door, tea splashing against the white walls. “Fuck!”
He took his pack of fags off the counter behind him and sat down on the floor. He didn’t blame her for not coming with him to London that morning. They both knew he could never give her a normal life, or take care of her properly. It just wasn’t in the cards, and especially not now with how successful the group had become. She should have someone who would be physically and emotionally present, with a regular job - someone who would come home to her every night, love her every night, take care care of her and protect her. He could never be that man and he hated himself a little bit more each day because of it. The more he hated himself, the more he resented her. Constant back and forth. He was so tired of being the bad guy.
He lit another cigarette and leaned back, closing his eyes. The only problem was he fucking loved this woman.
He thought about calling Les. He could go to her flat, apologize to her and tell her he loved her. They could give it another go. No, that would be too desperate, fucking ridiculous. In a few months they’d be back right back here again. He wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure, would do something to hurt her and then wind up hating himself for it. Again.
But Christ, when it was good - it was good. He took a long drag off his cigarette. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever known, and it made him want her even more when she pretended not to know it. He loved her natural beauty, how unassuming she was. She was real, unlike 99% of the birds he met after the Beatles took off. Playboy bunnies. Models. Groupies. Or just oversexed fans who only wanted to fuck him because he was a Beatle. Last night had been amazing - the way she came in and practically seduced him. The taste of her tongue, the feeling of her soft skin against his once more, that bloody thing she always did with her hips. She would always drive him mad.
There were so many layers to her that fascinated him. Cyn was genuine, a good woman who had put up with a lot from him, but she could lay into him like nobody else when she was truly cross. He laughed to himself as he remembered when she came out of her flat one night back in Liverpool and cracked him over the head with a rolling pin in front of an entire van full of people. He had been late, and she thought he had been with another woman. Despite her soft exterior, she was most definitely a no-bullshit kind of girl and he was one of the few people who got to see both sides of her. She never hesitated to tell him the truth; if he was playing shit at a gig, or fucking around too much, Cyn was the first one to tell him about it. None of the other girls at the time would have dared.
Now here they were, almost a decade later. He had fucked up again and they were both miserable for it. It needed to stop here. He regretted hurting her as soon as he heard the words come out of his mouth, but it had to be this way. He had to be harsh, to say things he didn’t mean to ensure it was really the end this time. He was tired of hurting her and punishing himself for things he could never change. This was his life. He was on tour constantly. He was rarely home and when he was, he wanted to sleep. There was always some sort of bloody commitment. He didn’t have time for her or a proper relationship. He fulfilled those needs on tour - and Christ did he enjoy the women.
He picked himself up off the floor and went over to the phone in the sitting room. He had made his decision and he was sticking to it.
“It’s John. Fancy a night at the Ad Lib then? Get pissed and pull a couple of birds?” He laughed into the receiver. “I’ll see you then.”
