The Arch of Love ~ Paul McCartney

20. Haunted

London, 8 May '67, approx. 7:21 PM

It had been quiet for the bigger part of the journey. Both of us had been remembering our first meeting and what came after. I had briefly met his bandmates, but I had gotten to know him again. And that's what had started it all, wasn't it?

We were on the outskirts of London, making our way closer to the centre, when Paul finally broke the silence. 'So, this is it? We really are done?' he asked, quietly. There was more than a hint of sadness in his voice. Why, why was he sad now? He could've avoided all of it and he knew it.

I nodded, also really quiet. I was definitely sad, but I had a reason to. I had made the decision to end the affair, even though I didn't really want to. I just knew it was the best thing to do. I couldn't go on like this. 'Yes, Paul. We are done. I just can't do it anymore.'

He nodded. 'I just wish it was different, y'know. It doesn't have to mean we can't see each other again,' he tried again.

'We've had this conversation. It does mean that. We were never serious, nor were we supposed to be,' I explained. I was tired of this conversation. It hurt me more than I wanted to admit. It was why we couldn't be together.

'You've told me this before, haven't you? Back in '62 you told me we were never serious to begin with. Even though we were. And look where it brought us. You came back to me, anyways,' he accused me.

I narrowed my eyes. 'I didn't come back to you, you came to me in L.A. I was actually doing really well with avoiding you,' I countered.

'What about December? We met again, didn't we? Was it just a coincidence that we met?' he asked. He was actually being serious. Honestly, what was up with this bloke? Was he thick or something?

'Yes, it was. Of course it was. We met on the bloody street, didn't we? I shouldn't have slept with you in August, nor should I in December. I tried to get you out of my life after that, didn't I? But you...' I started, but Paul interrupted me.

'I knocked on your door in February. Yeah, I can see where you're going with that. It was me going after you all these times. But I didn't force you, did I?' The realisation was clear in his voice. He knew where I was coming from now, which hopefully meant that he would accept it and let me go.

'No, you didn't,' I answered, truthfully. 'You never forced me. I wanted it just as much as you did. I probably want it more than you. That's why it has to stop. I want you too much, Paul. And because I know it's never going to happen. I have to protect myself,' I explained. My voice was thick with emotion; a lump in my throat making it hard for me to speak.

'I respect that. I just wish it was different,' he said quietly as he placed his hand on my thigh, soothing me. Normally, the gesture would raise all sorts of sexual feelings inside of me, but not now. The closeness of it gave me comfort. It calmed me down, making it easier for me to talk.

It warmed my heart that Paul said he respected my decision. He was finally allowing me to be free of him. And the fact that he didn't disagree with me saying it wasn't going to happen, told me that I was right.

'I'll miss you, Paul. I'll miss you so much,' I managed to push out. I could feel the tears welling up again and with all my might, I managed to push them back.

'I'll miss you too, silly,' he chuckled, sadly. 'I don't want you to go. God, this really feels like it's '62 all over again, doesn't it?'

I shook my head. 'No, because I didn't want it back then, but I had to go. Now I do want to.'

'It doesn't seem like you want it now, Arch. You've been crying all the way back from Liverpool over this. We don't have to end. Just say the words and we can just carry on as if nothing happened,' he offered me.