Lonely People

Make Music, Not War

Just before a long show, I sat on the stage with Paul. It was just the two of us because the club didn't open for another two hours. For the first time since we arrived, everything was quiet. It was a rare moment of peace in our hectic life. We would have to start playing as soon as the doors opened. For the time being, we enjoyed a moment of relaxation. 

"I feel like I could sleep for a fortnight," Paul muttered.

His eyes kept fluttering. He rocked back and forth slightly. We had been here for a month and a half, but we still hadn't gotten used to the shows. The drugs helped, but only for so long. Eventually, we built up a tolerance to the drug and had to up the dosage. John and Stuart were already at four pills a day. George and I were lucky, we didn't have to go above two. Paul was at three. 

"I want to sleep forever," I muttered, "We should have never left Liverpool."

Paul shook his head, "Don't say that, Lia. We're playing professionally now."

"And we weren't at The Cavern?"

"This is bigger," he replied.

I sighed. As much as I agreed with him, I also disagreed. We had a bigger chance here, yes, but at what cost? Out sanity? Our morals? Our health?

"You two look exhausted."

Paul and I glanced up to see Astrid Kirchherr standing about a foot away. As usual, she held her camera in her hand and a smile on her face. Every time I saw her, she seemed to become even more beautiful. Her hair had begun to grow out, but only slightly, it barely touched the top of her ears.

"That obvious?" Paul chuckled, "We're knackered."

"Eight-hour shows will do that to you," I sighed.

Paul laughed, "Especially if some are twelve."

"That's ridiculous," Astrid scoffed, "Should be illegal."

"Illegal or not, it's happening."

Astrid sighed, "You could quit, you know."

Paul shook his head. From backstage, we all heard John call out his name. He stood and winked at Astrid, "Until later, love."

I rolled my eyes. All of the lads were flirts, Paul most of all. It seemed as if he couldn't see a girl without flirting with her, even when he had a steady girlfriend back home. Part of me wanted to tell Dot about his escapades in Hamburg. A small smirk crossed my face when I realized what I held over him.

"Auf wiedersehen."

We watched him go. Astrid moved to sit next to me, her camera dangling from her neck. I rested my chin on my knees and took a deep breath. At that moment, all I wanted was to curl up in my bed and fall into a dreamless sleep.

"Are you going to take more pictures?" I asked, doing my best to hold back a yawn.

Astrid nodded, "Yes. Tonight, I'll photograph the show, and on Sunday, a photo shoot."

"A photo shoot? A professional photo shoot?"

"Ja."

The thought of it surprised me. I didn't think we were popular enough for a professional photo shoot. Astrid did work for a local magazine, perhaps she wanted to do an article on us, or she may have just wanted to spend more time with Stuart.

Every time the two of them are together, I have to look away to avoid throwing up. They gave each other constant love eyes, it was disgusting, honestly. The only time I've ever seen that look before was when George looked at his guitar.

"Is this for the magazine?" I asked, "Or to spend more time with Stuart?"

Astrid's cheeks began to turn red. She looked away, pretending to become very interested in the amp next to her. I smirked, "That's what I thought."

Astrid didn't reply. I shook my head and buried it back in my knees. My eyes closed as I took deep breaths. For a moment, the world faded away. I got a moment of relaxation before-

"Stop bloody whining!" John shouted.

Astrid and I turned to face the voice. Paul quickly shouted back, "I'm not whining, John, you're just being a knob head."

Something fell, causing a loud crash. Instantly, I was on my feet and hurrying backstage. Astrid was just a few steps behind me. We arrived backstage to find John and Paul going head-to-head with Stuart right behind them. George was pressed against the wall, looking confused.

"What happened?" I asked.

George shrugged, "I-I don't know. I walked in and they were shouting."

"I'll tell you what happened!" John exclaimed, "This wanker won't stop his crying."

Paul stamped his foot, "I am not crying, you're crying!"

"I am not!"

"You're both gits," Stuart added, "Quit your yapping and get ready for the show."

Paul sneered, "You're not the bloody boss of me, Stuart, sod off."

"You're a twat, Paul."

"You're both twats!" John exclaimed.

All three began yelling at the same time. I was still confused over what started this argument. Nevertheless, it was an argument that had to be broken up. They were getting so heated, I was honestly afraid they would begin to throw punches.

"Lads!" I exclaimed.

They paid no attention. I glanced at George, who nodded slightly. The two of us dove into the argument. I grabbed Paul while George grabbed John. Astrid pulled Stuart away. I gripped Paul's ear just like our mother used to do.

"Amelia, bugger off!" he exclaimed, trying to push me off.

I ignored him, "You three are acting like gits! We're all tired of each other and tired in general, but that doesn't mean you should fight each other."

"You're not our mother, Amelia," Stuart spat.

I glared at him, "I'm not, but you're acting like children, so I will treat you like children. Now shut up, step up, and stop this pointless fighting."

John and Stuart glared at me. Paul pushed against my shoulder, causing me to release him. He crossed his arms and glared at me. I held eye contact, glaring right back at him.

"You forget, we're all friends," George smiled, "Friends don't fight."

I nodded, "Exactly. We're friends and we're bandmates, and that requires a certain level of understanding."

"Fine," John flung his hands into the air, "I'm getting sick of all of ye. Fucking hell."

He left the room after that. Stuart was close to follow, though he went in another direction. Astrid glanced at me before following him. Paul sat on a nearby crate and glared at us, "Well I'm not leaving."

"You are a child," I spat, spinning on my heel and going into the main room of the club.

After a bit of cool down time, they would be alright. Spending so much time together wasn't good, especially for these boys. They all had dominance issues. It seemed as if most men did. Hopefully, they would get over it, we still had five months of a contract left.

George came up behind me, "It'll all be alright. They'll get over it eventually."

"Yeah, eventually," I sighed, "We have to play together in an hour, and then sleep in the same room tonight."

"They're stressed is all."

"And sick of each other."

George snorted, "I can't very well blame 'em. I'm getting sick of them too, but I won't yell about it."

"We may be the youngest, but we're the grown up ones."

(Photo- John Lennon, 1960. Taken by Paul McCartney.)