Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Fourteen

"I don't understand it." Ringo said, lighting up a cigarette.  "How can you not be aging?"

I sat up against the chair.  The Beatles had all settled at Paul's house, where we were discussing the latest discovery last night.  John kept trying to avoid Paul's glare.  He was insistent on making sure I never got anywhere near him.  I was afraid he wouldn't ever let me speak to him again.  

"I don't completely understand it either.  But apparently, I'm frozen in time while everyone here is growing up." 

"Oh, come, now, Elle.  We're all big boys.  We've grown up already." John interjected.  I smirked, and Paul noticed.  

"Well, I know that they are.  I'm not certain about you, John." I chided.  George and Ringo laughed, and Paul forced a smile.  John took a long drag on his cigarette, and then replied, "I wouldn't be talking, love."

I had to smile.  "At least I have a reason for being immature."

After awhile, George and Ringo wanted to go to the Club for a show.  They asked Paul if he wanted to come, and he said that he had to stay with me.  John stepped in.  

"I'll take care of the girl for you." He said.  I glared at him.  He rolled his eyes.  "I'll watch Elle."  

Paul looked like he was about to say no, but I interrupted him.  "It's alright.  We can stay here."  

He looked skeptical, gave John a stare and then nodded.  "We'll be back soon."

When they left, I turned to John and said, "You just turned down a show at the Cavern for me.  What's up?"  I didn't feel the slightest bit nervous around him for some reason.  He had to know I wasn't afraid to hit him anymore.  

John smiled.  "I never get to spend time with my American bird." 

"John, I don't have wings.  I'm not a bird." 

He didn't reply.  Taking another drag of his cigarette, he looked up at the ceiling.  

Looking down at the floor, I asked, "What do you want to do?"  He just kept smoking.  But then he snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray.  He sat down on the couch and said, "I saw you snogging Paul the other day."

"Well, that's a conversation starter."

"You shouldn't be kissing him in public like that." John scolded.  I was surprised at how this conversation had turned.  He almost sounded angry.  

I sat down next to him.  "We really weren't in public."

John shook his head disapprovingly.  It was as though he was thinking, Silly child.  You know nothing, and I know everything.

Feeling an evil little smirk play on my lips, "Why?  Is someone jealous?"

He snorted.  "Hardly."

I was about to remind him that he was going to kiss me, the annoying American bird, on the balcony in London that night, but I held my tongue.  There was something about that moment that seemed to be a secret, even among us.  I wondered if he even remembered.  

"It's getting late," John noted.  "Should the youngling be getting her pajamas on?"

"Oh, come off of it.  You're not that much older than me."

But eventually I did change into pajamas, which was a rolled-up pair of Paul's sweatpants and my tanktop.  John was looking through Paul's vinyl, and everything seemed eeriely quiet.  As soon as my foot hit the bottom stair, however, my mind exploded with sound. 

My knees buckled and I fell.  But instead of hitting the carpet, my palms slammed against a tiled kitchen floor.

My kitchen floor. 

I was slipping in and out of the two times.  At first I saw John come rushing towards me, shouting my name.  But then someone else was.  

Dad.  

He grabbed my arm and yanked me up.  Pushing me against the table, he growled, "Where were you?"  At that moment, I saw John's concerned face.  He was shaking my shoulder, but I couldn't hear what he was saying.  

"Help me!" I cried out, but then he was gone.  

I was slammed against the table again, and the back of my head was covered a sticky, warm blanket.  

"John!" 

"Tell me where you were!  Why did you leave?" Dad shouted in my ear.  I was crying; I felt helpless.  

"Please, Dad!  You're hurting me!"

"Do you want me to hurt Mom?  Is that what you want me to do?" He bellowed.  

"No!"

"Tell me!" He pulled my hair and pushed me to the floor.  

"Elle!" a voice cried.  "Don't hurt her!"  My mom ran in and held me.  I had never been more happy to feel her warm embrace.  

As if it was radiating from the ceiling, I heard John calling out, "Elle!  Elle, look at me!"

"John!" I shouted.  "Help us!"

My dad stormed towards us, and we both stood paralyzed.  But before he could grab me, I was pulled back.  

John was trying hard to calm me, but I was screaming and fighting against him.  I was too frightened and angry to cry.  

"Come back!  Come back!  Don't hurt her!" I shouted, before John practically pinned me to the ground.  I couldn't imagine what was happening to Mom.  Dad would blame my disappearance on her.  How could I stay here knowing she was in danger?  

John was trying his hardest to hold me still.  "Elle, it's alright.  It's only your mind playing tricks.  You're safe."

"No," I whimpered, feeling tears burn the back of my eyes.  "Take me instead.  Please..."

He sat there, rocking me in his arms, for about ten minutes.  I buried my head in his shoulder.  I knew that this was way too revealing, and that John would most likely tease me about this later.  But at the moment, he just wanted me to stop crying.  

"Love," he whispered.  "You're safe.  You must be very tired.  You should rest."

"No, I-I'm fine, John.  I just...miss my family."

Giving him the best fake smile I could manage, I got up, and walked back into the kitchen, leaving him on the living room floor.  

I couldn't let him in, or let him know anything else.  

As long as they were kept in the dark, and didn't know what was happening, in their future, in my future, they would be safe.  

I wasn't as sure about that for Mom, and that's what I thought about every day.