you really got a hold on me | john lennon

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

February 9th, 1961

John came into the room in his usual crumpled up shirt and leather pants, his towel hung over his shoulder as he had just come back from cleaning up. I was still in the middle of dressing up myself—only having trousers and my bra on as I searched through our shared drawers for a shirt. Ever since sharing a room with John, sometimes finding things of mine were like finding a needle in a haystack. I felt as he placed his hands on either side of my waist and rubbed his fingers back and forth on my bare skin.

"Wanting to get a head-start on our festivities, don't you?" John whispered into my ear as I could feel his hands starting to wander to undo the little pieces of clothing I even had on. "I wouldn't ever be against doing that with ye. So might as well do a little extra round while we're here...it is our anniversary after all."

Still searching frantically for a shirt, I lightly swat off John's hands and his naughtiness for the meantime. "Hold on, I need to find a good shirt. Give me a few minutes, alright? All of these damned things either look like a nappy or are crumpled beyond measure." I threw shirt after shirt behind me until John spun me around with a cheeky smile on his face. He lifted my chin up with his finger so that our eyes met one another.

"Shirts can wait, Nat," John chuckled slightly. "Did you even hear anything I said earlier? About what I was suggesting."

"That you want to start our festivities early, mhm." I dismissed again and walked to the other side of the room to look in those sets of drawers instead. John followed me and grabbed a gentle hold of my hand.

"And do you know what festivities I'm going on about?"

"...Babysitting Julia and Jackie on our anniversary against our will?"

"Why would I want to get a headstart on that? Get yer head out of the clouds, Nat. You know exactly what festivities I'm going on about—you aren't some innocent bird. No more of that pretending to be squeaky clean with me."

I pulled the first shirt that looked presentable enough and turned around to face him, his face contorted back into his usual grumpy self. If anything could piss John off more, it was anyone actually mustering enough strength to ignore him. I was one of the few people that was able to brush off his advances, and it did absolutely nothing to his gigantic ego.

"Not pretending to be anything, John. I'm sorry, okay? Didn't get enough sleep last night. Maybe when I get some food in me I'll be feeling a bit better."

Who was I trying to fool? Nothing about how I was feeling was because of any of that sleep shite. As I could see the days to our first anniversary, there was just this odd, inexplicable feeling hanging in the air. I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but all I could piece together was that it was definitely the biggest mood-killer.

I should've been the happiest woman in the world knowing it was the first of many anniversaries that we were hopefully going to have together. But something about the whole event made me feel the need to mourn it happening rather than celebrating it. Almost like it was going to be the first and the last of anything like this happening between John and I. The feeling was bittersweet and...final. Like there was nothing I could do to the inevitable and seemingly close end to our relationship. And I hated to think of even the slightest chance of that being true. Because no matter what had happened between him and I, I wouldn't even think of ending this relationship without giving it a shot...or two.

"Are you absolutely sure that you're fine? Christ, Nat, if you aren't fucking fine then I don't know what I'll do. Don't want you downplaying whatever the matter is with you."

"But I'm not downplaying it because guess what—I am fine, John. You don't need to fucking interrogate me all the time about it. If I wasn't fine, you'd be the first one I'll talk to about it."