Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Fifty-Five

After our vacation had ended, it was back to England for us.  Many fans greeted the lads when we arrived, and, of course, I was hidden behind Brian.  When I returned to Paul's house that evening, I tucked my plane tickets into my traveling box.  

It was back to work on new music, and many shows all over Great Britain.  I was constantly writing reports, and my fingers were always stained with ink.  Paul always had his guitar or bass around his shoulders, playing and memorizing new songs.  My birthday passed by quickly, and Paul got me a cake.  I refused his offer to get me something special.  He had bought me so many lovely things, and I couldn't even think of asking for more.  

I found bliss in realizing that the notes and flowers had stopped once I arrived back in Liverpool with Paul.  It wasn't him, and I found reassurance in that.  I felt safe around him.  He was everything that I had ever wanted.  

Right?

Some things just didn't always feel the same...

Around June, I noticed his hair was growing a bit long.  "Paul, you need a haircut."  I turned him around and examined his hair in the back, which was a bit wild.  

In fairness, he turned me around too.  "I think I might not be the only one."

That afternoon, I got my haircut and waited with Paul to get his.  I only got a trim, for I preferred my hair long than short.  When he was able to, he wasn't really sure how to explain the way he wanted it to the old man who was cutting his hair.  Looking at me for help, I picked up a magazine from the waiting area, pointed to the Beatles on the cover and said, "He wants to look like this boy right here." Paul smiled at himself on the magazine.  The old man got to work quickly.  He never mentioned knowing if he recognized Paul or not, which made us laugh a little.  

June and July came to pass and soon we were off to America once more.  Everything seemed so dizzying, and August went by in a blur.  The lads were doing shows almost everyday, and flying out or driving right after.  They got little rest and we sometimes very irritable, but things continued to go on.  

I began to wonder what I would have been doing then if I hadn't gone back in time.  Technically, I was eighteen.  Would I have been preparing for college?  Though, did I have the money to pay for it?  Would my father still be there, or would there be a day where he leaves us?  The thought made me wonder more.  He was my father; should I be happy that he was gone or sad?  

Though, my thoughts were quickly surpressed by more reports to write.  I was thankful for the work.  It kept my mind off of the future, the life I had to forget.  

Right at the beginning of September, I found peace and quiet for once in the hotel room.  The lads were out, and wouldn't be returning for an hour or so.  Deciding to take a bath in my own room, I locked the door to the bathroom so if the lads returned early they wouldn't walk in on me.  

While I was soaking in the hot water, someone knocked on the door.  I was about to shout, "What do you want now," when John said: "We're back.  Brian wants you to organize some of his files and sharpen his pencils."

Sharpen his pencils?  He must have been running out of jobs for me to busy myself with.  

"I'll be out soon," I sighed.  

After drying myself off and brushing out my hair, I pulled on my skirt and blouse.  I walked out to see John Sitting on my bed.  Not smirking evilly.  Not planning to humiliate me.  Just sitting there, like a puppy waiting for its master to come home.  

"Um...can I help you, John?" I asked.  

He shook his head, pleasantly staring off into space.  "Can I help you, Elle?"