Lonely People

I Hate You, I Love You

"You'd miss me too much."

All five of us dissolved into laughter. Even George was bellowing like a howler monkey as Paul grabbed his shirt. A few tears leaked from my eyes as I laughed. Our laughter drowned out the opening of a door.

"What're you lot doing?" Molly asked.

Janice peered over her shoulder, "And why're you on the floor?"

"Why does anyone do anything, Jan? For the fun of it!" I exclaimed.

Molly chuckled and shook her head, "I'm sure lots of people would argue with that."

"But they're not here right now."

Paul grinned, "Come on, girls, why don't you join us?"

"Yeah, make it a real party," John winked.

Ringo stroked the ground, "It's a comfy carpet floor."

All of us looked at him before busting out in laughter once again. Molly and Janice did join us, both of them sitting next to George. John and I reclaimed our places on the wall, still laughing to the point where tears trickled down our cheeks.

"Another Ringoism takes the day," John chuckled.

George smiled at his friend, "You've got a real way with words, mate."

"Sometimes I wonder why we're the songwriters," Paul gestured to him and John.

Ringo smiled sheepishly. All of us laughed once again even if no joke was said. Sometimes, you didn't need to tell a joke for something to be funny. You can laugh simply because you're happy, and that was it.

All of us were happy to have each other, even if we never said it. It was difficult to believe that, just a few hours ago, we all said we hated each other. How quickly that 'I hate you' turned into 'I still love you, even if you're a git'.

"It's a bit drafty here," Paul commented, "Let's go into someone's room, yeah?"

"Which room?" I asked.

John scoffed, "Not ours, the telly doesn't even work."

"Neither does ours," George replied.

"Ours does," Molly put in, "We could see what's on that."

"Jolly good, Molly, a dear as always," Paul winked.

I elbowed him, "Stop flirting with my girlfriend."

"You flirt with mine!"

"Touche."

We both chuckled. Molly led the party of seven giggling musicians into our shared hotel room. Almost instantly, everyone grabbed what they needed to be comfortable. We had several extra blankets and pillows in the closest, and the lads didn't hesitate in helping themselves to the luxury. We ended up with John and Paul wrapped in blankets on the floor, George and Ringo occupying Janice's bed, and Janice, Molly, and me all wrapped up together on the bed Molly and I shared. 

Janice curled up in a tight ball and gazed at the wall tiredly. She seemed to be getting more and more exhausted by the day, and even paler than usual. Her cheeks were always flushed, and she always looked on the verge of collapsing. Every time I saw her cough, or sigh, or collapse on the bed after a hard day's night, I had to suppress my worry. I wasn't the only one, either, Molly, Ellen, and Peter all gazed at Janice with equally worried faces. As she curled in a tight ball, I handed her an extra blanket. 

As Molly tried to get the remote to work, I watched John take off his glasses. He set them on a nearby pillow in order to rub his eyes. While he wasn't looking, Paul snatched the glasses and walked across the room. He shoved them on his head and smirked, looking at us all. I tried not to snort. Ringo released a loud laugh, earning an elbow from a smirking George.

"What?" John muttered, "I swear I left my glasses right here."

He began to shuffle through the pillows and blankets around him. Without his glasses, John was as blind as a bat, and I mean that literally. He was declared legally blind without some form of glasses or contacts, yet the git still wouldn't wear them.

"Any of you seen my glasses?" John asked.

I leaned over the edge, "Didja check your head?"

"Very funny, Melly."

He continued to search through the pillows and blankets. Paul paraded about in the glasses grinning like a fool. All of the rest of us were struggling to hold in our laughter. I watched as John froze, realization crashing on him like an ocean wave.

"Macca!"

It was like a dam breaking; every single one of us dissolved into belly-aching laughter. Paul gave John his glasses back, still laughing loudly. I clutched my stomach and wheezed, "Christ, I can't breath."

"Me neither," Ringo coughed, still laughing despite himself.

Molly gripped my arm, tears falling from her eyes. I pulled her to my chest, still laughing loudly. At that point, everything was so hilarious, it was pointless to try and stop laughing. Even George was laughing uncontrollably.

As our laughter became out of control, we barely realized Ringo's laughter turn into hacking coughs. He was coughing and sputtering like he was drowning in air. George noticed first, "Ey, Ringo, you alright?"

My attention was brought down to my coughing mate. Ringo held a hand in front of his mouth and coughed loudly. I half expected him to cough up his lung right then and there. George and Paul both slapped his back as the rest of us watched nervously.

"Ringo?" I asked, "Do you want some water?"

He could barely manage to nod. I quickly jumped from the bed and rushed to the bathroom. The hotel had supplied us with styrofoam cups, and I filled one of those with tap water. Hurrying back to Ringo, I handed it to him.

Ringo chugged the water, nearly coughing it up as well. When he finished the cup, he took a deep breath, "Fine, I'm fine."

"That didn't seem fine," Paul said.

"Just choked on my own spit, is all," Ringo smiled, "I'm fine, honest."

He eyes were filled with pain, but he still insisted he was fine. I could sense something else was wrong, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it. George furrowed his eyebrows in worry, "Are you sure? You're not sick or nothing?"

"I'm fine, George," Ringo replied, "Just a bit of a coughing fit, is all, I'm not dying or anything."

Molly, Janice, and I all exchanged glances. Paul, John, and George did the same, but nobody argued with him. I'd keep an eye out to make sure he was alright. If that happened again, then he would have to acknowledge something else was wrong.

"Alright. Let's see what's on the telly, yeah?" John asked, trying to change the subject.

We all agreed. I fell back to sit next to Molly. Janice curled up on her other side, all of us watching Ringo warily. All of us sensed something was wrong with our friend. 

(Photo- John and Ringo, 1965. Taken by George Harrison.)