The End (Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 28

{okay guys, i know I alternate between early and late Beatles eras, but since it didn't work out as I expected, this chapter also takes place before the Let it Be sessions. Enjoy!}

1965

The Parisian weather was especially nice today. Prudence wore a sleeveless yellow dress and her favorite blue shoes, which clicked on the cobbled street. Her purse held the summer designs that Mr. Allemande had requested, and she was carrying them to the buyer's offices at the Porte de Versailles. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, the hairstyle which she preferred for professional engagements. The meeting was in half an hour, and since her apartment was not too far, she had decided to walk instead of taking a cab.

A day this nice shouldn't be wasted inside a stuffy car, anyway.

Each fresh breath filled her with happiness and excitement anew. If the buyers like the designs, Prudence would be highly lauded at work. Or so she hoped, anyway.

She passed kiosks selling newspapers and trinkets; old men sitting on benches; young couples, local and foreign, holding hands and taking pictures; a mother buying ice cream for her child; a stout, old woman selling roses; a taxi driver smoking a cigarette; an outdoors market wafting the fresh smell of fruits and vegetables; a drunk man lying on the ground; women walking and fanning themselves with newspapers; a record store; a big concert poster; another big concert poster; another big concert poster...

Prudence stopped in her tracks, and turned on her heels. The posters were seven feet tall, and glued together side by side on the wall next to the record store.

She didn't have to know French to understand what the posters displayed. The band name was tossed all over the sheets.

BEATLESBEATLESBEATLESBEATLES

She walked up to the poster, her mouth wide open. She stared at each one in turn, though all three were exactly the same. There were no photographs, just words, and BEATLESBEATLESBEATLES etched everywhere.

She looked at the bottom of the poster. 20 juin, 1965, 19:00, Palais de Sports. That was tonight.

One thought entered her mind. I can see him.

She nearly threw her head against the wall to knock out the thought.

Why must that be the first thing she thinks of when she sees the band?

She had developed a cycle by now, and it ran on a very diligent schedule. Somehow, somewhere, the Beatles would be mentioned, and Prudence would promptly begin to think of John. Then she would spend hours coaxing herself out of the delusion, you have to stop acting like this Prudence, it's pointless, he's married, he has a wife, he doesn't love you, he stopped loving you when he went to Hamburg, you're just hurting yourself with these stupid ideas. And then she would feel alright, until the next time the band would pop into her head.

She remembered she had work to do, and she dragged herself away from the posters, and forced herself not to look back at them. The sun now seemed unforgiving.

It was too late by now. She knew when the concert was. She knew what time. She knew where. She knew that, in seven hours, she would be putting on her best outfit, getting into a taxi, and buying a ticket to see the show. She knew that she would find her way backstage, and confront John, and ask him why, why, John, did she deserve all of this, why couldn't he write, John, why couldn't he tell her that he didn't love her?

She knew she wouldn't be able to talk herself out of it. John was so close. Nothing could keep her from seeing him now.

That thought, in some perverse way, contented Prudence, and she let go of it, as if she had finished the shopping and didn't need the grocery list anymore. Clear-headed, she focused on her imminent meeting, and walked confidently to the buyer's office.