In My Life

Chapter 13:

Dusk descended swiftly, casting long shadows as the last of the luncheon guests made their way home. The once-bustling gathering had dwindled to silence, leaving only John and Paul lingering outside Mimi's, leaning against the gate.

The two stood side by side, each lost in their thoughts, the earlier tensions hanging in the air between them. They shared a cigarette, watching as the vibrant orange sky deepened into the approaching darkness. The glow of the cigarette tip flickered in the dim light, a small beacon in the growing night.

"Didn't expect it to end like this," John finally muttered, breaking the silence, his voice carrying a hint of regret.

Paul nodded, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily upward. "Yeah, things got out of hand," he replied, his tone contemplative.

The evening air was cool and calm, a stark contrast to the emotional disaster of the day. As the sky continued to darken, the two of them stood quietly, each trying to make sense of the day's events and what might come.

John exhaled a stream of smoke, his gaze fixed on Olivia's house next door. The uncertainty gnawed at him, and he knew he couldn't leave things as they were. "Fuck, what do I do, McCartney?" he asked with a desperation in his voice.

Paul chuckled, flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his shoe. "Apologize. You've got to talk to her, mate," he advised, his tone steady. "And this time, actually listen to what she has to say."

He frowned, flicking some ash in Paul's direction. "Ah, but I'm a real arse, aren't I?" he said, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. The guilt over how he had behaved toward Olivia hit him like a bolt of lightning. "If I were her, I wouldn't forgive meself."

"Just go in there and apologize," Paul advised, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to wipe away the last trace of blood from his nose. "If ya don't, then she'll never forgive ya."

While staring in the direction of her house, he let out a deep sigh. A heavy feeling of regret settled over him, and he wished he could take back everything he'd said. "Ah, fuck," he grumbled, turning to offer Paul a small, grateful smile. "Well, I suppose I owe ya if she forgives me then. Ya sure ya, alright?"

Paul chuckled, waving off John's concern. "I've had worse, mate," he said with a wink, referring to the earlier scuffle. Just make sure you sort things out with her. That's what matters."

John took a deep breath, feeling both anxious and determined. "Thanks, Paul," he said, giving him a nod of appreciation.

With that, he turned and began walking towards Olivia's house. He strolled past the gate and up the walkway to her house, each step echoing the remorse that weighed heavily on his heart. The closer he got, the more he cursed himself for insensitivity and cruelty. He couldn't shake the memory of how he had let her down, especially on a day when she needed his support the most.

As John reached her front door, his hand lingered in the air, ready to knock. But suddenly, a thought stopped him in his tracks, making him hesitate and stare at the door. What if she doesn't open it? What if she decided she never wanted to speak to him again?

They had been through so much together, and John knew he had to make things right with her. Bracing himself, he gave the door a quick but firm knock, the sound echoing in the quiet evening air.

As he stood there waiting, each passing second felt like an eternity, his anxiety growing with every heartbeat. His mind raced through memories of their shared moments, both the good and the bad, and he realized just how much he stood to lose if she chose not to forgive him.

After a few minutes with no answer, John felt his heart sink. He realized she might need more time. 'Maybe I should just give her space,' he thought, turning his back to the door. He lingered for a moment, torn between staying and leaving, caught in a struggle between the urge to try again and the wisdom of giving things time to settle.