I Wouldn't Change a Thing

14: Within You, Without You

For the next couple weeks, I avoided the boys just as I had in the beginning. When I had initially discovered what Paul had done to me, I felt sick to my stomach. This feeling plagued me for several days. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even bring myself to cry. I couldn't keep down any food without throwing it back up. Every time I tried to drift into a peaceful slumber, my mind was flooded with hurt, anger and guilt.

Had it all been nothing more than a rebound for the both of us? Had I sexually deprived Paul so much that he couldn't resist Jane the second she came back from her movie? I tossed and turned in agony, the scene of their transgression replaying in my head for the hundredth time that night alone.

The more I thought about it, however, the more I felt like I got exactly what I deserved. After all, had I not come between Paul and Jane myself in the first place? Regardless of their issues as a couple, Paul was still Jane's man and she had every right to get a hold of him. Likewise, it made sense for Paul to eventually run back to her; the history, the affinity, Paul's heart, even his music, it was all there with her.

Groaning, I tossed again. Even if logically it made sense for Paul to go back to Jane, he still manipulated me into starting something with him and he kept the truth from me. All this when I was already weak and easily impressionable from my break up. He had played me. But then again, I have to admit I was playing Paul too; I had kissed him first, drunk or not, and I was withholding and denying my true feelings about John.

Oh boy. John. I turned again, this time laying on my back. I felt a shameful twinge in the pit of my stomach. There wasn't any doubt that I had been playing him big time, messing with his feelings and taking them for granted. I know I had pushed him to his breaking point. Even though he was kind of being an ass the other day when we fought, he did end up being kind of right.

The only point he made that wasn't entirely accurate was when he implied that Paul didn't genuinely care about me. I knew this to be untrue. Paul did care, albeit in his own controlling and hurtful way, not unlike my father. But knowing that he cared made me feel even worse; Paul knew that getting re-involved with Jane behind my back would hurt me and yet he went ahead and did it anyway, that was the most painful thing.

Mulling it over, I acknowledged that I needed to take responsibility for some of my actions and behavior. Everything unraveled in a harsh but realistic manner based on the faulty decisions I was making. It all somehow added up, but I was left feeling extremely bitter nonetheless.

In truth, my situation with the boys wasn't the only thing that was troubling me. I tossed once more, taking a quick glance at the calendar that was perched on my bedside. It was 12:01 AM. That day. The anniversary of the day my mum died. Yes, that day. I always found myself feeling ill around this time, and this year was no exception.

***

That morning, I trudged to work as I usually did. My hair was a frizzy mess and there were several dark circles under my eyes. I was in a daze, going through the motions, hardly aware of where I was or what was happening. Seemingly as soon as I stepped outside my office, I locked eyes with Neil Aspinall.

"I heard about what happened with Paul, you walking in on him and Jane and all..." he bluntly stated.

Immediately, my brow furrowed. As if I could forget how he tried to take advantage of me the last time my heart was broken from Issac.

Heh. Issac. Maybe he had been right all along about the Beatles; maybe they were nothing but magnets for trouble after all...