Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Forty (Oh my, that's a lot.)

I knew John was up to his tricks again, because after thanking him that night and falling asleep on the couch, I ended up in his room again.  

When I awoke, I laid there for about twenty minutes and watched the sun rise over the city.  The sky went from a beautiful purple to a bright pink as the sun emerged from the darkness.  Curled up in my comfy blankets, I had never felt so calm.  

But then I had a visitor.

"Hey, John, can I borrow-" George walked in without knocking.  He came to a halt when he saw me.  I suppose I would have looked a bit silly, because you could only see my head peering out from the covers, but because I was in John's room, George was angry.  

The expression on his face was one of frustration, and hurt.  "Unbelievable."  He muttered.  "I must mean nothing to you.  After one little date..."  George glared at me unforgivingly.  I pushed away the blankets, and hopped out of the bed.  I grabbed his arm before he would leave the room.  

"It wasn't like that, George.  I swear."  I begged him to understand.  Maybe he would never forgive me for leaving him for John, but I could try to prevent any further misunderstandings.  "I would never-"

George pulled away from me forcefully.  I had never seen him so angry.  "Save it.  I suggest you be quiet before you tell another lie."  With one last livid look at me, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.  

"George." I whispered, tears filling my eyes.  Suddenly, my throat hurt.  It was like he had cursed me.  Be quiet before you tell another lie.

Being true to the "curse", I did not speak much that entire day.  When I did, it was quiet and polite, the way it should be.  I had no appetite, and even if I tried to eat something small it would make me feel nauseous.  The only thing that didn't make me sick was water.  

Paul was quiet too, and he and John stayed in his room most of the day working on some new music.  I sat and listened to them for awhile, but eventually went to see if Brian needed any help.  George had gone out for a walk, and Ringo went down to the cafe before coming up to see the two other Beatles.  

While I was filing papers for Brian, I suddenly felt dizzy.  As I sat up, I winced at the rush of blood to my head.  

"Are you alright, Elle?" He asked.  I nodded.

"I'm going to get some air.  I'll be back."  I said.  It was the longest string of words I had spoken all day.  

As I walked along the corridors of the hotel, I heard a faint whispering.  I kept walking, only to find George leaning against the wall, sweet-talking a young girl.  She looked about my age, and she had a high-pitched giggle that echoed in the hall whenever George got close.  

I turned away, a bright blush blooming on my face and tears filling my eyes.  I prayed he didn't see me.  It's true.  He doesn't care anymore.  

My prayer was ignored.  "Elle!  Elle, wait!"

Not wanting to see him at all, I ran down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the lobby.  The doorman nodded to me as I stepped out into the cold Paris air.  The sun was just starting to set on the horizon as I hurried down the street.  I knew where I could go to get away.  

"Elle!"  

His cries had grown fainter as I pressed through the crowd of people hurrying to get home.  I just wanted to escape it all.  There was no point in hiding the tears that streamed down my face.  

It felt like ages when I arrived on Pont de l'Alma, and I shakingly stepped up on the railing.  There was that voice in the back of my head, urging me forward.  Leaning dangerously over the rail, I watched the dark flowing water below.