Lonely People

The One With The Flute Solo

The death of Mrs. Mackenzie had a bigger impact than the death of Mr. Mackenzie. Perhaps it was because of how close the two deaths were; the wound from Mr. Mackenzie still wasn't healed when we lost Mrs. Mackenzie. The wound barely had enough time to scar before being slashed deeper than ever before.

All of us were hit hard. Even the lads felt the grief, and Paul and John were the only two who ever met the man. The entire world seemed to mourn right along with the remaining members of The Mackenzie Family.

I couldn't imagine it. I lost my mother when I was fourteen, but I had my father with me well into my adult life. Regina and Reginald were barely nineteen and they were effectively orphans. The last I had seen of them, they locked themselves in their bedroom with the only inkling of their presence being Regina's occasional sob.

The twins were hurt, but nobody was as gutted as Molly. She would barely talk or even get out of bed. It took a lot of coaxing to finally convince her to eat. Often, she would vanish into her room and ignore the world. I was the only one who could get her to talk, and even that was rare.

It hurt to see Molly like this. I knew the best thing I could do for her was to be there, even if I was several steps away. So long as she knew I was there, she would be alright. I took a step back, despite my heart screaming at me not to, because I knew she needed it. As much as she needed the comfort from a love, she needed time to grieve. Her grieving had to be done on her own, despite how much I wanted to be there for her. This was her battle, not mine, all I could do was be there to support her while she worked her way through her grief.

That's why I sat in the hall, my back braced against the wall and my knees pulled to my chest, staring at the locked door of Molly's room. It was nearing evening, and she had been in there all day. No amount of coaxing could get her out. I had to keep telling myself, this was normal, she was working through it and she would come out of it eventually.

What I needed was a distraction, and that came in the form of a phone call. I took one last look at the door, sighed, and moved into the front hall. My socked shuffled against the carpet, creating static electricity that shocked me as soon as I touched the phone. I yelped slightly.

"McCartney-Mackenzie residence, McCartney speaking," I answered.

"Mel, you know how to play the flute, yeah?"

I didn't have to ask who it was, "Yeah, why?"

"Good, can you come down to the studio? We need your help," John answered, "Cause none of these gits know how to play."

I heard several shouts in the background, ending with John scoffing. Vaguely, I could hear Paul accuse him of being unable to play as well. I simply rolled my eyes, "I s'pose I could."

"Thanks, Mel, I knew you'd come through."

I could almost hear his wink. Despite everything, a small smile crossed my lips, "Bye, John."

"See ya."

We both hung up. I shook my head and shuffled into my bedroom. My flute case sat in my closet, gathering dust. The case had a few faded stickers on it, one from The Cavern Club and one from The Indra Club. Both stirred a sense of nostalgia in me, one that made a smile cross my lips. It had been awhile since we needed a flute on a song. There was a chance I would be a bit rusty, but it was nothing a small warm up couldn't fix. I grabbed the case and slung it over my shoulders before making my way to Molly's bedroom door.

"Mols?" I gently knocked, "John called, said he needed my help in the studio. Would you like to come?"

There was no answer. I waited a few more minutes before sighing, "Alright, if that's what you want. I'll be back in an hour or two."