⇾𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Chapter Nine: Detour Leading to Liverpool (And Hopefully Away From Our Problems)

January 12, 1964

"Jooohn," I whined. It was nearly ten at night and I couldn't find it in me to sleep.

John propped himself up on his side and looked down at me. "Yes, Donna?" he asked.

"My back hurts," I complained.

"Well, how can I help you?"

"I don't know," I responded, beginning to cry from out of nowhere.

"Oh, love," he said awkwardly, leaning back down to put his arms around me.

"John, I hate this."

"I'm sorry. You know what, though?" he said.

"What?" I whimpered.

"You're so strong," he whispered encouragingly, squeezing me tight. "So, so strong, and I know you can do this."

It only made me cry harder. "What makes you so sure?" I asked pitifully.

"Because you're the strongest bird I've ever met, and if anyone can do this, I know for sure that it's you."

"But I wouldn't be able to do it without you," I blurted, then relaxed in his arms, nuzzling up closer to his chest.

"That's why I'll be there every step of the way," he whispered.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"I love you, John."

He moved slightly so he could give me a kiss on the cheek. "I love you too," he said to me.

I shifted uncomfortably as I felt another flash of pain go through my back. John tightened his arms around me when I whimpered again.

"Why do you yell?" I asked absentmindedly. I didn't even realize I was speaking. His hands were running through my hair, and it was so soothing, I was on the brink of sleeping almost instantly.

He sighed lightly. "I don't mean to," he admitted. "Sometimes I just get fed up with everything and it just slips out. I'm sorry about it. I really am. Sometimes it seems I can't control myself."

I was crying again by the time he finished—for some reason. "I wish you wouldn't yell. I don't like seeing you upset. It makes me upset."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I try not to."

"I know, but it still makes me feel bad. I never know what I've done."

"You've got no reason to feel bad, love. It's me that should feel bad. I'm a bloke to take my anger out on you. You have never done anything to warrant it." He paused again. "And, please don't ever feel like you can't talk to me. I'm always here for you. Always."

"I-I know."

I continued to cry quietly against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, never wanting to let go. We stayed quiet for quite a while after that, neither of us wanting to ruin the moment with words, just taking in each other in waves.

A moment later, I felt Boots hop up onto the bed. He usually slept downstairs, so it caught both of us off guard.

"Boots?" I asked into the darkness as if the cat would respond to me. It didn't, of course. Instead, it came and forced its way in between the two of us, curling up around my stomach and purring as if he just knew I was in pain.

"Aww, Boots," said John, unable to pull me close to him without squishing the cat now.

I laughed in the midst of the tears still falling down my face. This cat really had become to come in handy. It was great at keeping me company when I was stuck at home ill and John got to go to the studio. While we went down to Liverpool, Brian had agreed to take him and we'd be dropping him off down there in the morning. No one knew we were going anywhere except for Brian. We only could hope the press wouldn't catch us.

I reached down and began to run my hands through Boots's long fur, feeling calmer at the touch of it. He stretched out some more, and I looked to catch John's face in what little moonlight was making its way through our drawn curtains. He was looking down at the cat, smiling. Then, he looked up and caught my eye, leaning over to kiss me on the lips.

"Do you want me to move him?" I asked jokingly.

"Of course not," he said dopily. "He's making you smile, and I like that."

"Aww, I looove you."

"I looove you too."

~~~

It was characteristic of us to up and leave town when something had happened.

We left around ten the next morning. We got breakfast at a secluded diner down the road from Brian's house after we'd left Boots with him and were on the road starting at ten. As we usually did when we drove down to Liverpool, we found ourselves talking about anything we could possibly think of. When the conversation ran dry, John would start some deep conversation to keep it going again.

He always made driving so much more interesting. He didn't like to drive long distances, so it was always me that drove when we went out of town. I didn't really mind it, though. To be fair, if I was in the passenger seat, I'd sleep the whole way there, so it would be significantly more boring.

When we made it there, it was nearly two, so we stopped to have a late lunch before finally heading to the house. Mimi, who we'd called the night before, was waiting for us when we showed up. We hadn't said anything to her yet. That was one of our plans for the trip, we figured.

I still caught John staring at my stomach every now and then, an uneasy look in his eyes, like he still didn't know what to think...like he still didn't know if it was what he wanted. It felt like that should be okay. Shock is normal. He looked terrified—almost as terrified as I felt. I always repositioned myself when I caught him staring, feeling uncomfortable. He would always return his attention to me, hiding the fear I saw in his eyes with a smile at me.

I figured he'd do that a lot for a while. I should just get used to it. His brain was probably exploding. It's not like we'd planned for this. We both knew that a lot of things were about to change. It would never be the same ever again.

I did know that I was happy. As a kid I'd always dreamed of the day I'd become a mother. I wanted to give a little baby the life I'd never had, a normal one with two loving parents, but deep down I knew that this baby's life was going to be anything but normal. Nothing was ever normal for us.