All You Need Is Love

Last McCartney

YEAR: 1972

The nine months have flown by fast. It was a peaceful nine months, no fans wanting to rip Paul's hair out or anyone wanting to break into our house, it was nice...it was normal. I miss everyone, well, everyone except John. I miss Ringo's laugh and sense of humor, I miss Lucy's heels clicking on the floor. I miss George's crooked smile and Jude complaining about Dhani. I miss Yoko comforting everyone when they feel sad. I just miss everyone. As far as I know, Ringo is the only one that knows I'm pregnant. Lately the press hasn't cared about us, they only go after John and Yoko these days.

One morning, when I went outside to grab the newspaper, I nearly fainted. I got myself together and stormed into the kitchen and threw the paper away.

"What was that for?" Paul chuckled, "I was gonna read that,"
"John made a band,"
"Yeah, so did I. A great one too,"
"Yeah, but Ringo and George are also in his band,"
"WHAT!" Paul stood up from the table and grabbed the paper out of the trash bin. "This is fuckin bullshit!" he yelled as he threw the paper against the wall.
"I'm not pickin that up Paul," I sassily said.
"And I would never ask ye to," he replied picking up the scattered pieces of newspaper.
After Paul picked the newspaper up, I sat down at the kitchen table and waited for the kids to come down for breakfast.
"Paul,"
"Yeah love,"
"Does my stomach look larger than usual?"
"Mich, yer pregnant,"
"That's not what I meant! I meant, my stomach never looks this big when I'm pregnant,"
"Yeah, I guess it's a little larger than usual,"
I let out a groan. "Get the fuck outta me. Go. Get out," As I talked to the fetus in my stomach, Paul began laughing at me while he drank his tea. Soon, I felt a large kick. "OW! Mother fucker!" I let out a sigh and slouched in my chair. "GET OUT!" I laughed. As I continued yelling, I whipped up in my chair.
"Michelle, what's wrong?"
"Fuck, that actually worked," Paul's eyes widened as he ran out of the room to wake the kids up. A few minutes later, Heather and Mary ran downstairs, their hair was unbrushed and they were still in their pajamas, like Paul and I.
"Mum, what's wrong?" Mary asked.
"Mary ye know what's wrong," I painfully replied.
"She's havin another baby!" Heather said.
"Oh my god, where is yer father with Stella?" I wanted to scream, but I didn't want to scare Mary...Heather was use to it by now. "Girls, go get in the car,"
"Which one?" they panicked.
"The big blue one John left us. It's unlocked, just go into the backseat,"
"What about Stella's car seat?" Mary asked.
"When she comes down, put her in the middle, and make sure nothin happens,"
"Alright mum," they spoke in unison.
"The car is unlocked, now go,"
As they sprinted off to the garage, Paul came down with a tired and cranky Stella and a car seat made for a new born.
"Which car are we takin?" he asked.
"The big blue one John left us," I said as Paul helped me out of the chair.
"There, are two..." we began walking to the garage.
"The one where John had the trunk converted to a bed,"
"Alright, do the kids know which one yer talkin about,"
"Yeah," Paul led me into the garage, "it's the only car unlocked,"
"Alright," he grabbed the keys off the little rack and he slowly walked me to the car. He opened my door for me and helped me inside.
"Heather sit up here with me, so daddy has a place to put the car seat,"
"Okay," she climbed over the seat and joined Paul and I in front.
Stella was now sitting between a car seat and a scared Mary. The entire way to the hospital, Stella was cranky, Mary was scared, and Paul was nervous, I was in pain...out of everyone in the car, Heather was the most calm. When we got to the hospital, Heather walked me in, while Paul looked after Mary and Stella. She grabbed my hand and walked me to the front desk. The receptionist recognized me in an instant, and led me to my room. Heather walked with me, with Paul lagging behind. I was changed into a hospital gown and was put into a bed. Heather sat on one of the chairs in the delivery room, she began reading an old magazine that was on a little table beside the bed.
"Heather, what are ye readin?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the pain, that I should be use to by now.
"An old magazine," she closed it and looked at the cover, "mum, look how little I was," she smiled and handed the magazine to me. I looked at the cover and my face went white. I began flipping through the pages and got to the article about Paul and Heather. I scanned through it and began hyperventilating. "Mum, what's wrong?"