Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Seventeen

Because of the work day yesterday, Paul was given a day off.  He insisted on taking me to the doctor.  

"You think I'm mentally ill." I accused.  

"That's not true.  But it's better to be safe than sorry."

"I told you I'm a freak."

"No, you're not."

Yes, I am.  

I didn't want him to do this, spend all of his time and money caring for me.  It wasn't right.  I wouldn't be able to repay him for everything he had.

"Well, Ms. Sullivan, there appears to be nothing wrong that we can detect." The doctor looked through his papers.  Looking back up at me, he added, "This could be caused from childhood trauma, or some type of scarring incident."

I looked at Paul.  He hit the nail right on the head there.  But how would I ever explain that to him?  

The doctor's gaze fixed on Paul, and his eyes narrowed.  "Traumatic things such as...domestic abuse?"

My eyes widened, as did Paul's.  "No, no, sir.  He would never-"

"I would never-"

"I wasn't insinuating that.  It is just that you have bruises on your neck, and that is quite...unusual."

"Doctor, I do not wish to be rude, but if we could have a full diagnosis..." I said, trying to get onto the reason we came here.  

"Ah, yes.  It appears that your mental health is stable, and judging by the tests you seem in perfect physical state also.  I would suggest plenty of rest, and making sure drink the right amount of fluids each day.  A tired mind could be causing these...nightmares."

Paul nodded.  "Thank you, Doctor."  The man got up and went out into the hallway.  I took Paul's arm.  Find his eyes, I whispered, "They were too real to be nightmares."

He swallowed hard, and turned his attention back to the doctor.  

"Sir, if I could see you for a moment.  Miss, if you won't mind staying in the waiting room only for awhile."  I nodded, and left.  

While I sat in the small, dull room, a little girl came down and sat next to me.  She was probably about five or six, with long brown hair that was tied back in a little bow.  Swinging her legs and tapping her fingers, she hummed Love Me Do.  I smiled.  

"You like them?" I asked.  "The Beatles?"

She nodded shyly.  

"They're rather good, aren't they?"

The little girl nodded again.  She looked up at me, her eyes glimmering with questions.

"Are you from America?"

It was my turn to nod.  

"What are you here for?" She almost looked guilty after saying that.  The little girl must have been scolded for asking questions before.  I didn't mind though. 

I felt bad lying, but I forced a small smile.  "Just a stomach bug.  Nothing too bad."

"What's your name?"

"Elle.  What's yours?"

"Marie."  She smiled.  "Your name is pretty."

I felt a slight blush grow on my cheeks.  The little girl's honey-colored eyes smiled along with her.  It reminded me of Paul.  "Oh, I wish I had your name.  It suits you."

Paul came back into the room, looking slightly flustered.  After running a hand through his hair, he said, tiredly, "Are we ready to go, love?"

Marie looked up at him in wonder.  "You didn't tell me you were sweethearts with a Beatle!"