Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

102. I Don't Care Anymore

It can't be so bad
What you want that you do not have
It's got you too upset nowAnd I don't think it's unfair
Y'know I don't care
Anymore
And I'll kick down anybody's door
To hold you in my arms once more
I'd go anywhere
Y'know I don't care

31st July 1971

George sips from his water glass as his eyes travel around the restaurant dining room, watching our fellow diners as I watch him. He's very quiet tonight. Our conversation is stilted. If I speak, he replies with one or two word answers, or else not at all, his mind wandering. I know it's only because of tomorrow, but it's unusual for George. He's not usually a worrier like this.

'How's your food?' I ask.

It takes about twenty seconds for George to register I've spoken. He shakes his head as if to wake himself up. 'Sorry?'

'I was asking what your meal is like.'

'Oh, it's...' He looks down at his plate, only half eaten. 'It's okay. It's fine.'

This is not somewhere we'd normally come. It's French, for a start, and that makes for a limited menu for vegetarians. Other than that, it's extremely fancy. I've eaten at posh restaurants in the past, but this is a new level. There's three layers of cutlery, including a strangely shaped fork that I can't imagine what I'm supposed to do with it. The cheapest bottle of wine on the menu was $35, although that's not what we're drinking, and the menu was entirely in French, which neither of us understand a word of. Embarrassingly, we had to have a waiter explain it to us.

Still, it's lovely. The decor is simple but beautiful in white and gold with these delicate tiny white magnolia flowers everywhere. They're so pretty. I wonder if I could pinch a few for tomorrow.

Mal booked the table here for us. We've had to tell him. No one else knows, yet, but we've had to confide in him, otherwise he'd think our behaviour very strange. We'll need his help, too.

'Are you nervous?'

'About what?'

'Tomorrow.'

George shakes his head, pursing his lips, casting his eyes around the dining room again.

I smile. 'It will all be alright.'

He sighs and lets his fork drop onto his plate with a clatter. 'So you keep saying.'

'What's worrying you the most?'

Another deep inhale and exhale. I don't think he's going to answer for a moment, and then he finally says, 'Bob.'

I laugh and George looks up, surprised.

'Really? Bob?'

'You weren't there earlier. We went inside Madison Square Garden and there was tons of microphones and cameras already set up and he freaked out, Han. Saying how it's not his scene and he's got to go back to Long Island to take care of something...' His voice trails off and he chews his lip.

'Well, he freaked out before the Isle of Wight show too, didn't he? But he still did it and he was great. Maybe he just gets awful pre-show nerves. Once he gets on stage, he'll be fine.'

George shakes his head. 'I don't know if he's going to be there tomorrow. He's probably halfway to Long Island as we speak.'

'How many shows has he done since the Isle of Wight?'