Through Chrissie's eyes

Symptons

We spent a few more days in Brazil, for three more nights, when the boys performed once more in Rio and twice in São Paulo. At the end of our stay, I ended up enjoying the place, although I didn't adapt to the heat. Between summer and winter, I preferred a thousand times the cold, which was a good excuse to stay at home, since even with all the change in my routine, I still didn't like to go out much.

John and Roger were anxious to get back home, Deaky always asked Veronica if Bobby, in the time we were away, learned to walk or talk, and Taylor, being the sappy he'd always been, hung on the telephone with his wife, describing to Dominique every detail of her that he missed.

Freddie ... I know something was bothering him, for sure. I couldn't tell if it was homesickness, or concern for technical details of the show, but what really started to worry me was his disappearances shortly after the performances. He said goodbye to us as we went out together to one place and he went to another, completely different. Brian told me that he used to do this on tour sometimes. Even so, with that explanation, I didn't stop worrying. Freddie was facing something, and again, he wouldn't tell us.

However, when we returned to England, he came back a little to be as he used to be, sarcastic, irreverent and committed to work. The boys continued with "A Day at the Races" shows in London, and began working on the songs on the next album.

One day while Brian was composing, I went out to take a look at the backyard quickly. There were some flowers growing randomly in a little corner, which attracted bees and butterflies. I approached the flowerbed, taking a closer look at the flowers when I came across something very unpleasant.

What I saw ended up causing an unexpected cry in me, and when I found myself, I couldn't control myself. "My God, what's wrong with me?" I thought in silence. Paying attention to the noises from inside the house, I noticed that Brian had stopped playing, and shortly after, he was standing next to me.

"What is it?! he asked worriedly, holding my hands.

My voice didn't come out when I tried to speak, so I guided him by the hand to what I had seen. It was a small yellow butterfly, when I had seen it, it was flapping its wings very slowly, as if it were giving its last breath. So it didn't move, and I didn't dare touch it to see if ...

"Yeah, it's dead," Brian said carefully.

"The poor thing didn't deserve this ..." I breathed, "why did iyy have to go like this, all of a sudden?"

I looked back at Brian and saw that my husband was confused and frightened by my reaction. Bri just gave me a hug, and when he looked at me, not sure what to say, I saw that he was formulating an idea.

"You want ..." He hesitated, half trying to convince himself of his own idea "to bury it? Maybe it helps to deal with the grieving process ..."

"Yeah, yeah ..." I was starting to calm down.

I couldn't do it, Brian did it, at least I could watch, his long, delicate forefinger took the butterfly off the floor, and left it in the palm of his hand. I had the courage to dig a hole with my bare hands, Brian laid it down, and I covered it. I looked deeply into the unusual tomb, and then I felt the sadness passing by, realizing that the butterfly's time had come to an end because it was its time to go.

After going through this mourning crisis, I had another strange sensation. The next few days had cooled, but while everyone was wearing overcoats, I felt comfortable only with my cardigan. Brian even offered me his jacket, but I said he needed it more than I did. Then when the hot days came, I felt very cold enough to wrap myself in a blanket and wear Brian's long scarf that matched that of the Doctor on TV.

My husband almost jumped back when he saw me all dressed up like that.

"Chrissie, are you okay?" he asked, sitting down beside me.

"Throwing the cold, I'm ..." I frowned, trying to figure out the reason for his concern.

"My love, it's warm outside, and in here, I'm not cold" he explained, "are you sure you're not sick?"

"No, I'm not, really." I nodded several times and Bri didn't take it for granted.

He put a hand on my forehead, thinking I had a fever.

"You're warm" he said "but it's not a fever."

"I told you I'm not sick!" I insisted, a little louder than I wanted "sorry ..."

"You'll go to the doctor, Mrs. May" Brian was angry at me not for screaming at me, but because I didn't really think I needed a doctor "right away!"

"Oh Bri ..." I complained, "and my work? Are you really going to give me a day off just to see a doctor?"

"I will" Brian nodded "and don't complain about it. Now you know exactly how I felt when I was in the hospital."

"Oh, that's not true!" I said "you were convalescing and I'm just cold!"

"You're cold while the weather is hot!" he insisted on this argument.

"You see this is a very silly discussion?" I asked, already getting tired.

"Uh huh" Brian agreed "but you go to the doctor."

"Okay, okay, I'll go," I finally gave in to stop the silly conversation.

Brian had the affairs of the band and couldn't accompany me, so I faced the consultation alone. I didn't even know how to describe why I went to the doctor to the doctor, I just described what my husband found strange in me to judge me sick. Finally, Dr. Carter just told me to do a blood test, and for it, I could tell if I had anything. That's what I did, and before I went home, I checked the results. It was all right, as the doctor had assured me, except for one detail she didn't want to tell me. When I saw what it was, I understood why. She wanted me to find out for myself. I went into shock, not knowing how I could get back home after my discovery.