Nothing Is Gonna Change My World (McLennon, Starrison)

Think About It

Weeks went by. Paul waited for the call from his father, or even Mike. He'd call, and Angela would answer, saying "Sorry, Jim is busy" or "He's not home at the moment". Paul would simply thank her, and hang up.

It was the day before Christmas Eve 1964. The lads new album Beatles For Sale had been released a couple weeks prior, becoming very popular very quickly. Now, they were taking their break for the holidays.

George had decided to have a Christmas party at his home. Paul had called him, asking if his father had called recently with more questions. George had said no, and wondered what the situation may be like for Paul and his father. Now he was determined to help Paul out, and for the benefit of his own curiousity, George would invite all the McCartneys, as well as the rest of the lads' close family.

John had woken up cold, as bundled up in blankets and covers as he was. He soon discovered a window had been left open, and thought back to why that had happened. He slipped a shirt on over his head and walked downstairs. It was cold, everywhere. Where has all our heat gone?

Ringo hadn't woken up with an inconvenience. Well, he had thought he had, but the phone ringing early that morning was simply a call from George. His George. And he loved to hear his voice. It had been information about a Christmas party had decided to throw. "It'll be us, John, Paul, and our families" he had said. It sounded nice.

John walked outside, sitting on the front steps of his home with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He had called Mimi about the Christmas party tomorrow. She would very joining them, saying she almost felt honored to be invited to a gathering event again.

Paul sat in his living room, glancing at the phone, think about calling his father's home again, and hoping that either his father or Mike would pick up instead.

He thought about calling John and finding comfort in his voice. He thought about inviting him over and asking him to stay and make everything okay. He wanted John to tell him they'd fix this and that it would all be in the past soon. But he didn't want to keep taking John away from his family. He had been recently.

He thought about calling George, who had been so supportive and helpful; who had been there to listen to him when he had no one else. But he figured he'd give George a break. He was planning that Christmas Party after all.

John looked up at the gloomy sky. It was a bit past noon, and the freezing breeze was only getting worse. He stood up and walked back inside, finding Cynthia and Julian sitting on the floor, building a structure out of blocks. John was tempted to walk in and join, but walked away before he could be noticed. He walked into the kitchen, glancing at the clock, then the window. I wonder how Paul is handling his mind. John thought about calling Paul. Maybe using George's party as an excuse. He looked out the doorway towards the phone across the hallway, tempted by the idea, but soon saw Cynthia had gotten to it first, phone in hand, talking away with occasional glances towards her son.

George found himself in a dilemma. Was this a family party? But his friends would be here. Maybe Pattie would like to come. Would Ringo be okay with that? Maybe if he asked first...no. He didn't have to ask. Pattie was simply a friend, after all. It'd be rude not to invite her.

Ringo opened up a forgotten drawer that hadn't been open in quite a while. He found a phone book, finding written numbers on the back few pages. Maureen Cox. Ringo brought the book up to his face. Hmm, wonder what Mo is up to these days.

George put the last of the necessary ingredients for the following day in the refrigerator. There, he would be ready for tomorrow.

Paul looked up at the clock. He hadn't realized he had spent his day worrying. It's becoming too frequent of a habit. Paul stood up from his couch, and walked back to his bedroom. He took a change of clothes and took a quick shower, returning to his bedroom soon after. He laid in his bed, without any blankets or covers on him. He was simply staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out his mind. He had never thought about wanting freedom with his feelings and thoughts. He had always thought he had it. But it had began to seem harder and harder to keep such a secret. Paul blinked his eyes in and sequence before staring again. What was his father thinking about? Paul couldn't think of much he had done wrong. Why had it been so easy for Mike to accept, but not his father. Paul shook his head, bringing his covers up to his body. He just needed on talk to him, with John at his side, of course. Soon he found asleep, dreaming of talking to his father, and dreaming the best scenario he could have.