Nothing Is Gonna Change My World (McLennon, Starrison)

Look At Me

First, I'd like to wish Paul a Happy (late) Birthday. I mean 74 years old and still rocking the stage? What a stud 😍❤

*John Lennon*

There was an eternal silence. It was the kind of silence that could drive a person mad. And, if I was being honest, it was driving me mad, and beyond that.

She looked at me, without saying a word. I wasn't at all shaken up, yet, I had an idea of what I should be expecting her to say as soon as her lips started to move.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, she didn't speak. Not a first, however. She simply stared at out hands, as if it were a strange phenomenon.

Maybe it was, but I couldn't be sure.

As much as she kept silent, and her expressions showed many thoughts and processing, I couldn't help but notice one small, but extremely relieving detail:

She didn't look angry.

Yes, she was definitely shocked. That much I could gather from her expression and speechlessness. But she did not show any facial expression display disgust, disappointment, nor anger.

Then again, she had always been good at hiding these things.

Maybe she wasn't showing them because George and Ringo were also in the room.

I looked over at them. They were waiting for her to say something at much as we were. They were looking at her, concentrating almost. What was she thinking right now? We weren't sure.

I looked at Paul, who was looking down at his feet. His hand gripped onto mine tightly, but gently. I looked at his face. It was soft, and blushed. And he was, smiling. Discreetly, of course. It was why he was looking down at the floor.

I smiled, because we had been through this situation many times now. Thankfully, the other times had ended up okay. I...we weren't sure how this time would end up. But looking at that smile on his face, I got a warm feeling. I realized that whatever the situation may be with this, we would still be together. I'd still love him just as much as he loves me.

"John, I'd like to talk to you, please." I looked up at her as she finally spoke. I nodded and let go of Paul's hand, following her into the kitchen. I looked back at Paul, whom continued to smile; less, but still smiled.

When we entered the kitchen, I sat at the table. That same table I had gotten lectured at before in my childhood, in my adolescence. It felt as if I had gone back in time as I sat in the same chair as before.

"John, first I'd like to address the consequences of your choices." She spoke firmly, but her face remained soft. So, I listened, though I knew these consequences well.

"Firstly, what will you do with your family? Your wife and son? You're married, John. What will they think? What will they say?"

"Mimi, they know. Cyn knows, anyway."

Mimi looked at him, surprised, "And what did she say?"

I smiled and sat up, "She said she wasn't angry at all. That Paul and I were 'meant for each other'," I leaned my elbows on the table, "and that she hoped to find as strong of love as Paul and I have."

Mimi leaned back in her chair, and nodded. She looked out the small window briefly, and back at me.

"Alright then. Secondly, the public. How are you handling the secret?"

"Like we should; no one outside our trust circle knows," I noticed she was about to protest this, "and by trust circle, I mean Brian."

She nodded, relieved, I thought, "Alright. Does Paul's family know?" I nodded, "Okay. And I'd imagined you told your friends first." I nodded again.