Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Paul came through the door early on a Saturday night. The night he was supposed to spend with Eleanor.

He threw his suit jacket on the floor, and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. He sat down next to me on the piano, and I thought for a moment he had tears in his eyes.

"Paul, I'm sorry." I already knew what had happened. Eleanor had either stood him up, or fought with him.

"She kept calling me unfaithful. I just...I love..." He struggled to find words, trying so hard not to let the tears show. "I really like her, Elle. I wonder if she still feels the same."

"Here," I said, "Come here." He excepted my embrace, and I could hear him sniffling. Rubbing his back, I hoped to comfort him, and not make anything seem romantic.

I felt horrible lying through my teeth. Thoughts of my recent conversation with Eleanor in the studio bathroom flooded my mind. "I'm sure she doesn't mean it. You're...you're too loving to be unfaithful. Don't let her make you think differently."

I let go of him after a small moment of silence, but he still held on, like a little child. He was incredibly close for it to be just friendly. Was he sniffing my hair, I thought.

"Um...Paul?"

"Oh," He pulled away quickly. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

Trying to relieve him, I asked, "Can you play me When I'm Sixty Four?"

"How do you know about that song?"

I smirked. "No reason."

I went to get a drink of water. "I'm still listening. Play it, please?"

After a few seconds of shuffling around, I heard the intro to the lovely little Beatles song float into the kitchen.

When I get older,

Losing my hair,

Many years from now.

Will you still be sending me a valentine,

Birthday greetings,

Buckets of wine.

"Did you say 'buckets of wine', Paul?" I laughed. He tried to correct himself by starting over, but ended up saying the line again incorrectly. I couldn't contain a giggle when I sat down next to him.

"Paul, I'm afraid you've got a drinking problem." I jabbed at him, which made him smile. He had the most wonderful smile, and it was something that was rare around there lately. I couldn't help but think that he smiled a lot more when he and I were...well, whatever we were.

He laughed. "Maybe I do."

"I hope you don't drink that much with Eleanor. It could kill you," I smirked.

"That's not what's killing me." He whispered, taking his hands off the keys.

Without warning, he reached over and touched my cheek for a moment. His big brown eyes looked so sad, worse than any time I had seen them. Only a small part of the twinkle was left, and I prayed it wouldn't go out.

"Elle...I...you're the best friend a man could have. And I love you for that." The young Beatle told me. I touched his hand, and told him I felt the same.

"Can you.." I asked, "Can you keep playing for me?" He nodded, which created a small smile on his lips.

He began to play again, and his fingers moved fluidly across the keys. During a break in the song, he said, "Sing with me."