Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Forty-Five

George didn't seem to know what to say after I had told him.  He, gently, rolled up the sleeve off my dress to see the cut, as if he thought I was lying.  He stood there for the longest time staring at any place I wasn't.  

Placing a hand on his shoulder, I said quietly.  "George, please talk to me." 

He shrugged off my shoulder and ran a hand anxiously through his hair.  Sitting down on my bed, he ran a hand through his hands.  I tried to talk to him again, but without warning, he picked up onto the pillows and threw it against the wall.  I took several steps back and almost stumbled into a chair.  

"George!"

"You're supposed to talk to me about these things!  You're intelligent, Elle!  You know what's best for you, and for us!  How could you do such a thing!"

"I was scared, George.  I didn't know what to do.  I don't know why but there's something inside me that knows no matter how hard I lie and try to fit in I never will.  Time has finally found a way to get rid of me, and it's turning me against myself." I whimpered, trying so hard not to cry.  I shed too many tears in front of George.  He was bound to think I was weak.  "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" George snapped.  "Sorry?  You think you can just solve this by apologizing?  You would have killed yourself!"  I had never seen him so angry, and I was more frightened than I had been the night we were attacked in London.  This was George.  He was never this loud, this intimidating.  "You've got treatments for this!   You were getting better!"

"I'm scared!  I don't know what to do!" I cried.

George was silent for a moment, but then he moved towards me.  I suddenly was frightened out of my wits at the way he moved, and ran into the bathroom quick as a rabbit before he could catch me.  I slammed the door and locked it, breathing hard, my palms against the cool surface of it.  

His tone softened from the other side.  "Elle, come out.  Please, I didn't mean to scare you.  I'm not going to hurt you.  Please..."

Things were silent for a few minutes, until loud knocks on the door startled me.  "Elle, please!  Open up!  You're frightening me!  Please, Elle..."

I pictured him slumped against the other side of the door, head in his hands.  He was angry with himself for making me hide away.  How could he frighten me?  He promised to protect me...

Cautiously, I opened the door, and fell to my knees next to him.  I wasn't crying, but my voice threatened to break.  Throwing my arms around him, I said, "I'm sorry.  I was just...really scared for a moment."

"It's my fault, darling.  I'm sorry." 

We sat there for awhile in silence, listening to each other's heart beat and the buzz of Paris outside my window.  The lads would have to play another show the next night, and they'd get to see all of the fine scenery.  I would be working again on Brian's reports and quite possibly seeing Doctor Baudine after my confession to George.  

I leaned up and kissed his forehead, and yawned, leaning my head on his shoulder.  He held my cheek, and kissed me gently, but passionately, as if he had been wanting this for a long time.  I certainly had.  

The youngest Beatle pulled me closer, beckoning me to sit on his lap.  But I just stayed where I was, feeling uncomfortable to move any closer.  Though he wanted more anyway, so he laid down on the hard floor, and pulled me with him.  As we kissed, he rubbed my back and I held his cheeks.  We had to pull away to breathe, and when I did, I shivered and said, "George, will...will you stay with me tonight?"

I believe you can figure out what he said.  

By then, it had been about a week and half of the lads' time spent in Paris.  They had grown fond of the city, but George, Ringo and Paul had began to often ask to look at my locket as a reminder of home.  John was the only one who hadn't voiced his homesickness, though he had written to Aunt Mimi almost every other day.