New York City - February, 2014
"Oh for Christ's sake. I can't find me bloody mobile. I've turned this bleedin' hotel room upside down and I -"
"Back pocket of your trousers, sweetheart," she said softly to him. Eyeing him as she stood in front of the hall mirror, Cynthia laughed when he collapsed on the bed with a defeated grumble.
"You'll give yourself a heart attack if you keep winding yourself up like this."
Slowly lifting his bottom up and off the bed, wincing slightly at a pang of lower back pain, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After more than 50 years of marriage, it had become very obvious that she knew him better than he did.
"Ta, luv. Almost finished?" He asked, glancing at his watch before back to his wife, admiring her as she stood there, fussing with her scarf.
"I look like a grandmother, don't I?" She sighed. "I can't even sort out how to wear a bloody scarf anymore. Do I wrap it like this? Are both sides supposed to come around evenly? All these trends...I can't keep up."
"A bloody sexy grandmother at that, luv," He laughed, getting up from the bed to walk over to her, kissing her on the cheek. She was turning 75 this year, and she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever known.
"Shut your gob you old git," She smiled to him.
"You look beautiful, Cyn. Now we better get on. The exhibit starts in less than two hours and there's gonna be traffic headin' downtown."
"When's the car due to arrive?"
"It's downstairs now. Reception rang up while ya were in the loo."
"I just need to find my specs."
"For fuck's sake woman," he said to her smiling in mock-annoyance before pausing midsentence, interrupted by the blaring ring tone of his mobile. He still needed to fix the bloody thing. It was set to the tone, and urgency, of a very aggressive alarm clock. "Wonderful. It's Julian. He's gonna be in a right shit..."
"Just tell him we're on the way. We'll be in and out before the press or anyone else arrives."
"Alright Julian?" He gave his wife a cheeky smile as he answered their son's call. "Right. We know that. Mmm-hmm. Yer mother's just puttin' her coat on right now." He eyed Cyn, motioning to the closet. "Are the kids comin' beforehand?" He began laughing. "Give her a break. She's fifteen. The last place she wants to be tonight is her father's exhibit."
Cynthia walked over with their coats, handing his over and looking at him anxiously.
"The kids aren't going to be there?" She mouthed.
He covered the receiver to answer her. "They're comin' later for the actual opening. It's just gonna be us before like. Too risky with people findin' out."
He watched her face drop a mile and quickly tried to recover, "It's alright Cyn. We'll see 'em tomorrow for dinner anyway. It's all been sorted, luv." He turned back to speak into the phone, "While I've got ya on the line...how in God's name do I change me bleedin' ring tone on this thing? It's drivin' me mad."
"Oi," she whispered, patting his knee as she subconsciously rushed him off the phone. "He can show you when we get there."
He nodded to her. "Any road we better be going. We'll see ya in a bit and you can show me then, yeah? Okay, alright son. Ta...mmhmm. Bye."
Standing up, he took his coat and carelessly threw it over his shoulders. "He sounds nervous."
"Of course he's nervous. He's never accepted how talented he is. Careful there, luv. You don't want to tweak your back again."
He smiled down at her as she helped him with his coat, buttoning him up good and tight. "He turned out alright didn't he? Bit of a rough start in the beginning, when I was off me fuckin' nut..." He smirked, remembering that he was only a child himself. "But we were good parents, weren't we luv?"
She kissed his lips softly, "Yes dear." She laughed softly, "You got there in the end. I'm just as proud of him as you are."
He closed his eyes momentarily, wanting to freeze this moment and keep it in his memory forever. He was lucky; he had been given a second chance after nearly throwing it all away in the carelessness and recklessness of his youth. He had nearly lost his wife. His child. His fucking life.
Listening to the sound of cars' wheels swishing along the wintery New York City streets, blaring horns and the occasional siren, he wondered what his life would be like now if he had followed through with his plans all those years ago. If he and Paul had never come to New York to promote Apple. If he had left her for Yoko Ono.
A soft fingertip tapped his temple, "You're in your head again. We'll never get out of here at this rate."
"Sorry, luv. It's just every time we're in New York...I can't help but think..."
She took his hand in hers. "None of that tonight," she said, kissing it. "We're going to go downtown, have a look at our son's photos, and then go off for a quiet meal and discuss what we're going to do with our beautiful grandchildren tomorrow."
He was still lost In his mind. "What if none of this ever 'appened? What if you had stayed in Italy and I came back from New York to be with her? Where would we be right now, Cyn?"
"Please darling," She sighed, moving a bit of his now whispy grey hair off his face. "You say this every time we're in New York. There's no reason to think, 'what if?' We made it through and were blessed with another wonderful child as a result. The past is the past. Leave it be."
He felt his face beginning to soften, "So bloody wonderful that she couldn't be bothered to travel to New York with her parents, ey?"
"Oh stop it. She's a grown woman with her own life. We'll see her back in London. Now come 'ead. We can't ruin this for Julian."
He nodded, taking her hand in his. "Always snappin' me back to reality, aren't ya?"
"That's what I'm here for," she smiled, walking out of the hotel room with him to the elevator.
He squeezed her hand reassuringly as they rode the elevator down to the lobby. A million thoughts raced through his mind: would there be Beatles fans waiting for him in the lobby? Who would escort them to the car? Would the paparazzi be there as well? Would they make it downtown in time or would their cover be blown? There was one thought, one day, one question however, that trumped everything else.
Where would he be today if the series of events that took place in this very same city on May 14, 1968...had never happened at all?
