Miss Americana // The Beatles

Chapter 53

January 12, 1966

I sobbed into my hands in this tiny airplane bathroom. My body shook, my head echoed the horrible names the press were calling me at the airport in London. We were flying to Trinidad for a holiday. Rumors had been swirling about John and I, but this was the first time the press had seen us together. As I held his hand, trailing behind Ringo and Maureen, the press shouted at me, calling me a homewrecker, a whore. I couldn't believe they would shout such nasty things at me. I didn't want it to bother me, but shortly after we took off, I had to retreat to the bathroom.

Is this what the public thought of me? And they were snapping pictures of me holding hands with John to go on holiday with him. There's no telling what the headlines would be when the photos reached the sleazy papers. I didn't want it to hurt my feelings, but it did, because there was some truth in the words they were shouting at me. I was a homewrecker, as much as John convinced me I wasn't, I saw Cynthia's face when she found John in bed with me, someone who was supposed to be her friend, but I was fucking her husband behind her back. I was truly ashamed of myself. Even though mine and John's situation was complicated, I made the choice to sleep with him. I could've said no. He had knocked on the bathroom awhile ago, but I just couldn't talk to him now.

Another soft knock happened, "Sasha, it's Mo. Can I come in?"

I reached and clicked the lock to the other side.

She came in, squeezing in and closing the door behind her, "Why are plane toilets so bloody small?"

I grinned at her thick Liverpool accent. Sometimes it brought me comfort because it reminded me of Stu, he had had a similar accent.

Maureen crouched down in front of me, placing her hand on my knee, "It's alright, Sasha. Those fuckers don't know you, they don't know what you've been through."

"But they're right, aren't they?" I cried, "I am a whore, I am a homewrecker, I was the other woman."

"But it wasn't like that," Maureen told me, "Believe me, you're my best friend, I would tell you if you were a whore, trust me. You know I tell it like it is."

I laughed through my tears, "It still hurt my feelings. I wasn't expecting everyone to hate me like that."

Maureen sighed, "Sasha, it's not like that. I know it hurt your feelings, but like I said, they don't know the story. They're just sensationalizing something they see. They don't know that John loves you so much, Sasha. He would fucking die for you, and you know that. And things went to shit before, but he always wanted you back. We all know this. Cynthia was the other woman, not you. You're number one to John."

I nodded, wiping my tears, "I'm glad we worked at NEMS together. You don't how much I needed a friend in those days, and you're still my best friend."

"We've been together through thick and thin," Maureen smiled at me, "I'll always have your back. You introduced me to the love of my life."

"And you told me to not be scared and follow my heart," I spoke quietly, still quite emotional, "And I'm back with the love of mine because of it."

Maureen hugged me, "It's like I always say. There's no point in being miserable. If you aren't happy, you have to go for what makes you happy. Even if it could hurt other people in the process. It's your life, Sasha, and it's your happiness."

"Thank you," I said, wiping the tears from my face, "My makeup is fucked, isn't it?"

"You always look beautiful, but let me just fix the mascara," she said.

Maureen grabbed some toilet paper and blotted under my eyes to get the smudged mascara off.

"There, you look perfect as always."