⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Thirty-Two: Dorothy Rhone and All of Her Woes

October 12, 1961

The next morning I woke up next to John and hearing a grumbling George.

"Shuddup, George," I heard John slur from next to me.

"What did I do last night?" he asked in turn.

John sighed. "Mary broke up with you, you got pitifully drunk, sat down in the middle of the walkway, threw up in the park, I carried you home, you yelled at Donna and I—," John began to list the events of the night. "Should I go on?"

"Probably not."

"Mhm," John mumbled and rolled over to face me. "Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm cold."

"And how am I supposed to help you?"

"Move closer," he said cheekily.

"No," I said, flopping over to face him.

George groaned. "I'm going to our room. You two are gross." George stood up and went to leave, clutching his head with his left hand.

I sat up and looked at John. "Morning," I said lamely.

"Morning," he said and the conversation went silent. Luckily a knock came on the door. I grumbled to myself and got up to answer it. John flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

To my surprise, I found a nervous and fidgeting Dot standing outside the door. Her eyes flicked momentarily to John, but she was respectful and held her tongue, unlike Paul.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked her.

"I'm just going out to get something for breakfast—." Her voice trailed off. "Can you meet me at lunch later? I—uh—need to tell you something." I nodded.

"I don't have anything else to do."

She smiled with relief. "Thank you so much," she expressed. "Say, twelve?" she asked. "At the café down the road?"

I shrugged. "That'll be just fine."

She beamed. "Thank you, I'll leave you two alone now." She peeked at John again and I frowned. John snickered behind me.

"See ye then, Dot."

She gave a little wave before disappearing.

"I'm getting colder by the minute," John said. I turned to him, looking unamused. He laughed. "Love, you shouldn't scrunch your pretty face up like that."

I went and sat beside him. "Then why d'ya make me?" I smirked.

~~~

Dot had called me to a small restaurant down the road.

I didn't know exactly what she needed, but when she'd asked me, she looked incredibly scared. Dot and I weren't exactly close, but we had that mutual relationship, being Paul, that kinda forced us to at least know one another. She didn't talk a lot and seemed to always hide beside Paul, like she was scared of something.

Either way, I didn't have the heart to say no, so I found myself in downtown Hamburg sitting at a table with Dorothy Rhone.

She looked disheveled and a lot more on edge today than she usually did.

The waitress serving us brought out our drinks and we uttered a low and awkward, "thank you," before she left.

"So," I asked, breaking the silence that hung in the air like poison. "What did you need to say to me?" I asked and she jumped, like she'd just been jerked out of a trance.

"Oh—." Her voice fell. "So—." She seemed to be helplessly struggling to form a proper sentence, like everything was just getting stuck in her throat and all her thoughts were leaving.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "Okay, so I know we're not exactly...close, but I really need help and—."

"Why can't Paul help you?" I asked, confused.

"Well, it's sort of...more of a girl thing, y'know?"

I looked at her skeptically, suddenly anxious, like she was going to dump something huge on me that I couldn't handle. I nodded and took a sip of my water to try and put an end to my nerves.

"I'm pregnant."

I actually choked. "You're...what?" I wheezed, coughing.

She put her head in her hands, crying slightly. "I'm pregnant...with Paul McCartney's child. I'm so stupid, Donna, what am I going to do? My parents are going to be so mad."

I was still coughing water out of my throat. "Okay, wait," I made out. "Slow down. How do you know you're pregnant?" My voice practically broke on the word.

"I was sick, and I was late, and I went to the doctor, and they said I was, and I—."

I'd never seen someone look so hopeless. I didn't know what to do. "Okay, well, what do you think is best for you? Have you told Paul? Are you going to tell Paul?" I added.

She shook her head. "I'm scared to tell him. I don't know what to do."

"Well, you're not gonna be able to hide it forever. You need to tell him."

"Y'see, Donna, it's not that simple. Paul's...possessive. He wants me to be something I'm not. A baby isn't going to fit into his lifestyle." She was groaning by the end, in tears, taking a woeful sip of her water, looking deeply conflicted, like she was ten years older than she actually was. The whole situation was a mess.

"Okay, well-." I choked again, this time on my own saliva. "Have you considered your...options?"

She nodded, but refrained from saying anything more.

"Okay, Dot, I'm touched that you came to me, but I'm about as dumb as a teenage boy when it comes to this stuff, so maybe you should tell someone in your family rather than me. We can go home early if that would help. Anything that would help you I'm more than willing to do."

She nodded understandingly. "I just needed to tell someone, y'know?"

I nodded with an encouraging smile. "I understand. All I'm going to advise you to do is tell Paul. He has a right to know."

She looked like she was about to cry. "I will. Or maybe I could try Astrid..." her voice trailed off.

"I think that would be a good idea. She'd probably know more than me." I smiled.

She smiled too. "Thank you, Donna. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

I shook my head. "I'm happy to help anytime. Good luck." I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and we stood to go pay for our drinks and leave, for we'd both lost all appetite for food.