If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 27 - 14.Nov.1961

Chapter 27

November 14, 1961

It was all strangely familiar, and yet so starkly different. The sea of people, the black attire, the condolences, the hushed way people talked around me...it was exactly how I remembered it from my mum's gathering after we laid her to rest. But I hadn't cried for my father, not a single tear. Sometimes I wanted to, but tears felt like an admission of grief, and I didn't want to openly grieve my father, not after what he'd done to me.

I sat on the couch, back inside my childhood home again. It was the same ruddy couch I'd sat on after my mother was killed. My mind kept going to dangerous places, pulling me into memories of my time in the house with my father. I remembered the countless nights I'd feared walking through the red front door. Memories of him were not kind, and they pulled me back into dark places I worked so hard not to think about.

But I also remembered my mother and the happy times we had before everything crumbled, because there had been good times with the three of us. I remembered them, I cherished them, and it was those memories that almost made me cry. Almost.

The food supply was dwindling, which only made me hopeful that people would soon take their leave. I didn't want to hear one more lovely comment about my father, or one more apology, or one more person tell me they were sorry for my loss. I wasn't sure how long I could bite my tongue and not scream to the entire room of people precisely what he'd done after Mum passed.

Someone sat next to me, but I didn't turn to see who. It didn't really matter anyway. I didn't want to talk.

"Brought you some food and a bit of water." It was Paul. He'd been hovering around me all afternoon, dressed in a button-down shirt and black pants. There was a perpetual crease in his brow whenever he looked in my direction.

"Ta, Paul," I mumbled. The food sat on the coffee table, but I didn't make an attempt to eat it. My stomach knotted at the thought. "I'm fine, though, really."

"Ye need to eat somethin'," Paul said, his voice low. He placed a hand on my arm, holding me gently. He reached forward and gripped the glass filled with water. With careful movements, he pushed it into my hands. "C'mon, Liv."

I held the glass, not wanting to take a sip. But the earnest look in his eyes made me raise the glass to my lips, pulling in a long swig of water. I placed the glass back onto the coffee table as I raised my eyes. John stood beside George, the two of them looking dapper in clothing almost identical to Paul's. John had been eyeing me all afternoon, and he'd been doing his best to keep people away from me. But I had a feeling he'd sent Paul to try to get me to eat.

"You all right, Liv?" Paul asked, his wonderfully expressive dark hazel eyes peering at me. "Cause you haven't moved in hours."

"I think I'm fine." I rubbed at my eyes, wanting nothing more than for the day to be over. "I still can't figure out what in the hell I'm supposed to feel."

"You can feel whatever you need to feel. There's no right answer, love." He leaned in closer to me so that only I could hear the rest of what he had to say. "'Specially given everything else that happened before this."

The door slammed behind someone, and I jumped, my head whirling in the direction of the noise. I pushed my hand against my racing heart as I stood. My hands flattened against my black dress as I walked to the kitchen. A handful of people sipped wine and spoke with each other, and suddenly all I wanted was to be alone.

I rubbed at my temple as I stared at the lingering guests. A dull headache had sparked there in the morning and hadn't let up, probably from the stress of the day. It was annoying all the same, especially since my headaches had recently been getting a bit better.