Above Us Only Sky (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 34 - Like a Bus Misses Birds

December 12, 1966

My Dearest Darling Paul,

I want to write "I miss you" on a rock and throw it at your face so you'll know how much it hurts to miss you.

All my love, your loving wife

And that was the extent of what she'd managed to write in her journal during the last thirty hours since she'd left her husband. Marisol closed the leather-bound book and tossed it on the coffee table next to a paperback and the half-empty bottle of Hemingway Reserve Chardonnay, Block 18. No need to hide her journal anymore. The dogs and Melody weren't terribly interested in reading about her comings and goings, as long as she kept them fed and entertained most of the day.

She opened the paperback and found her place. At least she'd have loads of time to read now. The premise of this best-seller was intriguing. A prequel to Jane Eyre, telling the tale of Bertha Mason, the madwoman in the attic. The raving lunatic that was Rochester's first wife. Jane Bronte described her as violently insane, stalking the hall of Thornfield like a ghost. But what drove her to this grief-stricken state? The simple answer, according to the author of Wide Sargasso Sea, is Rochester. Behind every hysterical woman, look for the man.

"You can pretend for a long time, but one day it all falls away and you are alone. We are alone in the most beautiful place in the world..."

Marisol closed the book and tossed it on top of her journal. She didn't feel much like reading either. And if she kept reading, she might never look at Rochester the same way again.

It had taken until well after dark last night to get the house warmed up and their rooms ready. Melody and the dogs followed her all around the small cottage, the three of them standing in doorways watching her airing out rooms and freshening beds, uncertain of this new development in their lives.

Marisol sang songs and talked baby talk and doggy talk and tried to be reassuring. After a trip to the grocery to stock up on staples, she had Melody in bed by 9:30 and retired to her own room, longing for an early night to recover from weeks of late-night swinging in London.

She'd fallen asleep immediately. then awoke shivering in the middle of the night and rolled over, stretching out a leg and an arm, feeling for the comfort of a warm body next to her. The pain in her heart flared as soon as she found Paul's side of the bed empty. She'd been so certain in her heart of hearts that she would wake up to her husband next to her, that he would be unable to fall asleep without her.

She rolled back onto the pillow, pulling the covers up to her neck and wishing she'd brought warmer pajamas. For all she knew, Paul wasn't worried about losing sleep. He was probably out at the clubs with the lads, forgetting he was married. Or wishing he wasn't. She could hardly blame him. She'd given him a spectacular amount of trouble lately with all her whinging and moaning.

There was no more sleep that night, she simply lay in bed staring into the darkness and waiting for daylight.

Today seemed to have at least twelve more hours than any of the last thirty days she'd spent living with Paul in London. After a chilly walk with Melody and the dogs, she'd puttered around the house, planning meals, dressing dolls, picking up crayons, sweeping up dog hair, and trying to figure out the best way to keep the baby out of the dogs' water bowl.

She played the radio nonstop until she realized it was either Beatles songs or songs by someone she'd met while out with Paul or songs about heartbreak, and who needed that shit? So she'd played the Sound of Music soundtrack over and over until she went stir crazy and decided to go with silence.