Missing You...

Chapter Ten

Tuesday, 2 December 1980

Over the next few days the former band mates stayed well away from each other. Neither one of them wanted to face the other after the terrifying incident that had occurred. It was just too embarrassing. Paul stayed in the guest bedroom during the day and drifted around the apartment like a little lost ghost in the evenings. John didn't leave his bedroom at all, not that Paul saw. He knew that John must have wandered out of his bedroom sometimes. He had been rifling through through fridge in search of milk for his cereal, but he couldn't find any. Instead of milk the fridge was stuffed full of alcohol and chocolates and every comfort food you could think of.

"Oh, dear." Paul said. "John must be going through a really bad time."

Paul never saw John coming out of his room, but there was always less alcohol in the fridge in the morning than there had been the previous night. Whenever Paul looked into the fridge and saw the disappearance of glistening green bottles, he felt his heart sinking into his stomach. He couldn't bare the thought of his most precious friend hurting himself in such a bad way. Paul didn't know what to do.

Now, most people in this situation would have packed their bags and left on the next plane home. But not Paul. He was made of sterner stuff... and he was driven by a great love and compassion for John, his best friend and soulmate.

* * * *

John was lying on his bed, his arms and legs spread out all over the place. He was staring up at the ceiling through his misty, bloodshot eyes. He stared until the ceiling wavered and blurred. Tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes and trickled down his face. John swallowed his sobs and sighed heavily. He picked up a bottle of vodka and poured some into a little shot glass. The bottle was nearly empty and several others were lying discarded on the carpet.

Paul peered around John's bedroom door. He saw his friend and the terrible state he was in. Even in the dark gloom Paul could make out the glum expression on John's face and the tears that were dribbling down his cheeks. Paul gasped in horror. Seeing John like this was absolute torture, as if Paul was having his heart ripped right out of his chest. He heard a faint sob come from the bed and bolted into the room. John didn't react. He just glanced up at Paul momentarily then went back to his drink.

"Oh, John. I've missed you." Paul said, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs.

John grunted and told Paul to go away, but using very colourful adjectives.

"No, I'm not fucking off anywhere!" Paul said sternly. He cautiously advanced towards the bed, picking his way through piles of dirty clothes, crumpled tissues, and empty bottles. He perched on the end of the mattress near John's bare feet. "You okay, Johnny?"

"No, I'm not bloody okay, you idiot." John grumbled. His voice was thick, but this could have been from him holding back his tears or the vast amount of alcohol he'd consumed.

"You need to stop this, John. It's not good for you."

"I know. I don't care."

"You're going to get addicted if you don't look out." Paul said gently.

"I told you I don't care!" John shouted, his pale cheeks reddening.

"But I just -"

"Leave it, Paul." John said sharply, "Just go home. I don't want you here." 

John reached out for the half-empty bottle that was lying on the bed beside him. He uncapped it and proceeded to pour the drink into his glass. He didn't stop until the glass was brimming with the liquid, practically spilling over the edges. Paul sighed and took the glass from him. He stood up, walked over to the corner of the bedroom where a pot plant was standing, and dumped the contents of the glass into it.

"Hey!" John cried, "That drink was expensive! Don't just water my plants with it"

"John." Paul said, sitting back on the bed. He cupped John's face with both hands so he was forced to look at him. John tried to pull away but struggled halfheartedly. He softened and looked back at Paul, his brown eyes damp and misty. Paul stroked his friend's hair gently, humming soothingly into his ear. "Please stop, John. You're just hurting yourself."

"But I'm depressed, Paul!" John said, his tears spilling, "It cheers me up."

"I know that, Johnny, but it's not good. It'll consume you."

"What do you know..." John muttered, pulling away.

"I know that you're not happy." Paul said. "This isn't the John I know, or the John I want to see."

"Who were you expecting?" John snorted.

"I don't know. The John that was always laughing. He always had something nice to say, and gave everyone around him a reason to smile." Paul was smiling himself. "I miss that John."

John hid his tear-stained face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking violently and Paul wondered if he'd started John off crying. He looked closer and saw John was splitting his sides laughing. Paul was confused. He said as much to John.

"You're such a crazy, crazy boy, Macca." John chuckled. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, John." Paul said, a large lump in his throat. "Can we put all this stuff away and go out? You promised to take me sightseeing, remember?"

"Yeah, of course I will." John said, staggering to his feet. He stretched and yawned, then he smiled down at Paul. "You always know just what to say when I'm sad, Paulie."

Paul shrugged. "It's a gift."

"Well, keep it handy. We might need it again." John smiled.

Paul grinned back. He was relieved to know that John had calmed down and was back to normal, but he was still wary. John's face looked happy, his mouth curved upwards in a comical smile, but his eyes didn't look quite right. They still looked miserable, as if they could spontaneously spring a leak and start crying. Paul decided to keep a special eye on John and make sure he didn't too upset. He watched John stumble into the en suite bathroom and slam the door. The way John was acting seemed familiar somehow, but very different at the same time. It was very odd.

"I hope the rest of this visit goes smoothly." Paul mumbled. He crossed his fingers for extra luck, then he got to his feet and went to grab his coat.