My Uncle Pawl

Two of Us (Chp. 7)

This story is almost over

1969

Paul began playing the acoustic guitar lead, followed by Ringo's soft beat.

Two of us riding nowhere

Spending someone's hard earn pay...

You and me Sunday driving

Not arriving,

on our way back home

We're on our way home

We're on our way hone

We're going home...

John's eyes flicked up to Paul's, who were focused on the finger-movements of his acoustic, getting every smooth note perfect.

They leaned into the mic again to sing.

Two of us sending postcards

Writing letters

On my wall

You and me burning matches

Lifting latches

On our way

Back home

We're on our way home

We're on our way home

We're going home

Ringo's drumbeat sped up, which, coincidentally, so did John's heart beat.

You and I have memories

It was at this moment did Paul's eyes finally meet John's. Which he hasn't done in what felt like years.

Longer than the road that stretches out ahead..

John held eye contact.

He needed something, anything from Paul. He truly missed the bastard. Even if he got re-married. Even if he silently told the band he would be leaving soon. Even if that broke Paul's heart to all ends. Even if the bassist adopted a little girl from that American bint! And even if Paul hasn't said a single word to John about anything other than their jobs as musicians. And he would never admit how badly that hurt.

John's eyes were shimmering with hope and desperation.

He hasn't spoken to Julian or Cynthia in months. He was making plans with Yoko. Plans for the future. For albums, for a new house. He should be happy he didn't have Cyn to tie him down anymore.

But John was furious.

Not at Cyn or Paul or Yoko

But simply at himself.