Miss Americana // The Beatles

Chapter 50

November 12, 1965

Some hours later, I opened my eyes, sitting up suddenly. For a moment, I forgot where I was. I was lying on the couch in John's living room. The sun was setting outside. I remembered crying in his arms. I guess I had fallen asleep, tired from all the emotions and lack of sleep last night. I stood from the couch, walking slowly toward the kitchen.

I heard John speaking, "Well, why don't I come pick everything up, you and I need a chat."

John was on the phone as I entered the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, smoking a ciggie, a cup of tea sitting in front of him.

"We still have to work together," he said, "I don't want this to interfere. We're just going to have to set aside our personal lives at our job."

I stood at the doorway, not wanting to announce my presence just yet.

John put his cigarette out in the ashtray beside him, "I know you'll see her nearly everyday. How do you think I felt for the past three fucking years?"

I could tell he was frustrated by his tone of voice.

"Well, I'll be over in a few to get her things. We have to work this out before we go on the ten day tour next month."

John slammed the phone down and lit another cigarette. I walked up to him, sitting down on his lap. He wrapped his arm around me. I rested my forehead on his. He kissed me, looking into my eyes.

"I love you," I whispered.

He brushed my hair from my eyes, "I love you, mama."

"John," I said, looking into his eyes, "I want you to know that I made the right decision. It was just so hard breaking his heart."

My voice broke, tears coming back into my eyes.

John put his cigarette down, holding me close to him, "I know it was, Sasha," he paused, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Were you on the phone with him?"

John sighed, pushing me off his lap as he stood, "He packed up your things. He wants me to come get them, so we can have a chat."

"I'll ride with you," I said quickly.

"No, I can go by myself," John said.

"John," I said, "Don't fight with him, please."

"I won't do anything, unless he starts it of course," John explained, I frowned at him, he sighed, "Just stay in the car, okay."

I followed John out to the car. I climbed in the passenger side. John wasn't the best driver, but he drove slowly to George's house for some reason. We didn't speak. When we got to the house, George was standing out by some suitcases, boxes and guitar cases. John got out of the car, I rolled down the window in an attempt to listen.

"I'm sorry, George," John approached, "I really am. We're still mates?"

George was nervously smoking a cigarette, his hands trembling, "Well, we have to be don't we? I'm stuck in a fucking band with you."

"George," John said, "You know what happened in the past. I know you weren't blind. I know you could see how much we loved each other. I know you noticed how I look at her. You were there, you remember our love."

"Yeah, and I also remember you slapping her around in Hamburg and then leaving her to fucking die on the toilet floor," George said through clenched teeth, "I understand you and her are soulmates, but you don't deserve a second chance."

I wiped tears from my cheeks.

John sighed, "It was a long time ago. I swear to God I don't remember that night. If I remembered it, I would've been on a plane to Liverpool as soon as I sobered up the next morning. You can thank her brother for how things turned out. We have to finish what we started, we just have to. You'll understand someday."