Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Paul lead me upstairs after that heartbreaking kiss on the couch.  Though I couldn't remember when he had found another girl, I was not brave enough to ask him.  But a part of me broke inside.  What had happened to 'I'm the only man you'll need' and 'You're the only girl I see?'

I just forced a smile when he told me about her.  

"Eleanor would have came tonight.  She had a family party though.  You've met her before, you just don't..." 

"Remember." I answered.  He nodded.  

Paul pulled off a box from the dresser and held it out to me.  "These are all your photographs and postcards.  You've also written some journal entries.  You said I couldn't read them."  It almost felt like he was talking about another person, in another lifetime.  

I sat down on the bed and opened the lid of the violet, flowered box.  I pulled out some of the photographs.  They were all absolutely wonderful. 

"Oh, Paul," I sighed, "how could I possibly forget this?"  I looked through some of the postcards from all over England and some in Ireland and Scotland.  Some of the photos were blurry, others were like windows to a memory.  There was one where Paul and I were sitting in a traincar, and he was kissing my cheek.  I turned it over quickly so he couldn't see.  

"What does Eleanor look like, Paul?"  I asked, trying to divert his attention.  

"She's got dark hair, fair skin.  She's absolutely lovely.  I'll have to reintroduce you."  My heart was ravaged at the look of pure love on his face.  

I nodded, trying so hard not to get upset.  I bit my tongue to keep from crying out.  

I guess it took me until then to realize that I had fallen in love with Paul.  

But he obviously never loved me.  

"Paul?"

I had changed into my pajamas, and gone back downstairs where he was playing his piano.  

"Yes?"

"I, um...I...do I sleep on the couch now?" I asked.  This memory loss was dreadful.  It could have been the worst thing to happen yet here.

He stopped playing and smiled.  "We switch around.  When I'm working late the next night I take the bed.  If not, you do." He got up and brushed off his suit.  He still hadn't changed from the party.  "You can have the bed tonight, Elle.  It could help your memory."  Paul kissed my cheek, but without any feeling or emotion at all.  

"Goodnight, Paul."

"Goodnight, Elle."

I didn't come to work with Paul the next day.  I was so embarrassed I couldn't stand to see any of them.  When Paul woke me up to tell me he was leaving, I stuck my face in the pillow and told him to have a nice day.  

I cried for thirty minutes straight afterwards.  

What did I do to displease him?  What had he wanted that wasn't me?  I didn't know.  But I just couldn't help but think of what he thought of her.  Was she so much more beautiful than I?  Was she the definition of perfection?

Did he simply love her because she wasn't me?

My heart felt like it was being torn to pieces and I couldn't do anything about it.  

And for the first time during the entire time I was with the Beatles, I wanted nothing more than to just go back home.