you really got a hold on me | john lennon

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

May 24th, 1960

After what was like an eternity of just waiting for this one day to come, it was finally my birthday again. Nineteen years old.  It was a wonder I made it to nineteen with all the shite that decided to come up into my life this past year. Whatever I had with Paul, and then, of course, my fantastic parents. As some cursed parting gift from those two, I couldn't stop replaying the moment those two words rolled off my mother's tongue with ease. Now even with the smallest things I did, I always had to do a double-take to make sure I wasn't letting anybody down — whoever they happened to be. Mum and Dad really had to get in one last bitter haunting memory before cutting me off for good to ensure that I wouldn't be forgetting about them anytime soon, no matter what I did.

At the moment I was laying in John's bed, staring aimlessly at the plain beige walls of his room. I was beating myself up every day since then for being the daftest person in existence and not going with him and the boys. There wasn't anyone out there that had understood me better than John or even had known much about my parents' situation other than him. And the only consolation I could've had for that was his blanket that was currently wrapped around me, the scent of cologne and smoke enveloping me in it. Pathetic, I know.

"Natalie!" Mimi's voice could be heard getting closer and closer to the room until she finally bursts through. She had this softer approach with me recently but I could probably say confidently that Mimi was through with doing that.

"Good morning to you too, Mimi. Lovely day, hm?"

"Oh stop it with the small talk. It's your birthday, isn't it? I've tolerated you staying in bed for the past few days but today is one you mustn't do that on. Come on down for breakfast, won't you?"

"Mimi, that's quite alright. I'll stay up here—"

"Nonsense. Either you come down yourself or I'll drag you down there." She turns her back to face me and beacons her hand for me to follow behind her. That woman was insanely aggressive and now I could see clearly where John must've gotten that attitude from. "Come on now. Sulking up here is no way to spend one's birthday, and I think you can agree with me on that. And John's sent something for you in the post if that's what's going to get you up and out of your seat."

And she was right. At just the mere mention of John's name I jumped out of bed and followed her willingly downstairs. Once I was in the dining room, I could see a white envelope on the table with my name scrawled on it in his messy handwriting. Ripping it open hastily, I feel butterflies all over at just the sight of the letter inside.

. . .

Hoppy Birdy Nat!!!

I am so, so sorry that I couldn't be there for your birthday. Must be some sort of record with me not being there for the first time...ever? This year really is bringing all kinds of new things for the both of us, isn't it? But I just wish I could be there with you and spend it with you properly.

But I promise that when I do get back home from this tour (which is going great so far, going to tell you more when I'm there) I'll make it all up to you. Paul and George are both being pains in the arse about me being all "soft" here, whatever their definition of soft is so I might have to cut this part short. Sorry, Nat.

Anyways, you do know better than anyone else that I'm the worst person for all this sappy shite. But the only thing I've been trying to say in this whole damned letter is that it's driving me mad not seeing you for this long.

I love you, darling. See you when I get back in a couple of days.

(Your favorite idiot) John