howdy ho! The beginning is a filler, but it's kinda important not sure, but the rest is kewl
Enjoy!!
Chapter 12: One Last Visit to See Paul Part 1
My apartment was very empty only a few days later, there were boxes that were going to go to family in Liverpool and some back with me to America. And then I had my large suitcase that I would pack most of my clothes in, if not all.
I had chosen to go back to America. I figured it was time for me too. I couldn't take it anymore. It was a horrifying sight to see my simple presents cause one man pain that neared death. And then I had to go through loosing the child before I could have it, and having my friend get punched because I found out he kind of liked me.
Yeah, it's time for me to go.
So, I set my suitcase on the one of the last things in my apartment, the mattress on the bed frame. I went over to the dresser, which would be picked up later by my aunt, and it was hers so I was just giving it back.
I opened the bottom drawer, took out the clothes that were already folded and put them in the case with a kind of sad face plastered on. I was sad to be leaving. I would miss my friends, and maybe even Paul.
I thought about him the whole time I packed my clothes up slowly but surely. I really don't know why, and I should of had my mind on something else, like the train ride or getting hit by a bus but nope. I had to think about him.
I got to my sock drawer, my last drawer to clean out, and lifted everything out of there. When I walked over to my bed, something slipped from my hand, but I ignored it, think I would just set this shit down and come back for it. I did, spacing all of it into the case and turning around.
I bent over and picked what I thought was a sock, tossing it on top of the suitcase. But when I looked at it again, I realized what it was.
Without lying, I smiled slightly at it. I shouldn't have but I did. I grabbed the piece of crumpled, forgotten paper and opened it up, reading it's words again. It was the first time he told me he loved me, and that he has for the longest time.
It was when I realized I loved him, but I'm not so sure anymore you know. At least, I know I don't hate him, and I have some sort of sympathy for him I guess.
I dropped my smile and folded the note back up quickly and put it into the suitcase, before I zipped the thing up quickly. I was done with packing and the flight was scheduled for tomorrow. What to do now? It's only like 8 at night and I wasn't very tired. So, now what?
I came up with something quicker then I would like to say.
After quickly stuffing the back of my car with boxes and suitcases and other shit I'm taking back to America with me, I got in the car. I had one thing left to do that night, before I would probably return home to sleep some before going to catch my train.
I continually reasoned with myself I as I drove, trying to show that was I was doing was the right thing to do and that I wasn't crazy. I was just going over to explain everything to him, just to tell him about the baby and all that. Then I will leave.
I'll leave and everything will go back to normal, like it was before I came back to Liverpool, Right?
I'm sure you can guess by now that things are never that simple. Especially when it involves Paul and me.
It felt like the blink of an eye and I was in front of that house again. I vowed to myself that this would be the last time I would go to this stupid house and see him.
The rain had started to pour out of the January sky, tapping on my window which made me notice it in the first place. I slipped into the rain once I shut the car off, and walked causally up to the front door. I got somewhat wet, but managed to be slightly dry.
I was almost shaking when I got to the door though. One reason was because I was cold and should have warn a thicker jacket for that time a year and two, because I was very, very nervous. I hoped he wouldn't get angry at me for lying and not telling him the truth and all that good shit.
I hesitated for a moment, bring my hand up to the door and almost knocking. This was so crazy. He wouldn't even want to see me, why would he?
But I shook that off as quickly as it showed up. I had to do this, he deserved to know all of this. I think it was the least I could do.
So I knocked on the door a couple times, and waited outside of the house, under a small over hang, for the few moments it took for him to show up. I knew he was there, I saw his car. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold in the heat.
The door slowly opened, only partially, and he looked at me for a second, like I looked at him when he was outside my door. I'm not sure he did that on purpose or it just made me think of that.
"Ringo's not here." He told me with a blank look, but his eyes were full of sadness and longing. I felt bad for him. He looked at me for a second, and then re shut the door when I didn't say anything, thinking I came to see Richard.
I spoke through the door, knowing he could hear me, "I came to see you McCartney." It didn't even take him a minute to reopen the door. He flung it open, with his thin, flimsy arms, revealing what he was wearing; a black turtle neck and jeans which covered most of his skin except his pale hands, feet, and face.
"Really?" He asked, wanting to make sure I wasn't joking or something. And I wasn't, I was as serious as a person like me can be.
"Yes, I have something to tell you," I continued to shiver in the rain, hoping this wouldn't take too long. He opened the door all the way and shook his pale head.
"Come inside first, you must be f-freezing," He stuttered slightly, probably being nervous or something. Paul moved out of the way, letting me walk in. I decided I might as well, I didn't want to stand out in the cold any longer. This wouldn't take long, I hope.
I walked into his house, my arms still across my chest, and looked at him, while he shut the door, locking it quickly. He came over to me, but of course kept his distance, and if he wouldn't, I would then.
"Do you want something to, um, eat, or maybe drink to warm yourself up?" He gulped, and offered me nicely. I shrugged and let my arms hang at my sides. Then I nodded, kind of wanting to just lay the news on him lightly, through a cup of tea, or something.
"Tea would be nice. If you don't mind." I asked, awkwardly almost. Paul nodded quickly and scrambled around me, going quickly into the kitchen to make some tea for me. I went around the corner much slower then him, probably because I was still a little cold.
He filled the pot in the sink and tried not to spill the hot fluid as he brought it over to the stove. His hand shook slightly as he set it down.
And as he continued to fix the tea, Paul looked over at me with those grey with a sprinkle of hazel eyes that shown sadness but seemed just a bit brighter because of my presents and why. He looked at me quietly for a second, then spoke.
"Are you c-old?" He looked so worried, but I was fine, mostly. I mean what could he do. I shook my head at him.
"I'm alright, thanks though," Even with awkward conversation with my ex, I try to stay polite, or at least I am now anyway. He nodded, keeping his expressions at bay. I went to the kitchen table and sat down, waiting patiently for him.
There were flowers in the middle of the table, just a dozen of all sorts in a vase I don't know who got them but they were nice. The rose in the middle was of course my favorite, I love roses.
Paul poured me a cup of tea and brought it over to me, once again trying not to spill it with his shaky grip. He put it on the table in front of me, sitting down in the chair closest to the one I was in. He started biting on his thumb nail, waiting for my approval.
I looked down at it and back at him, wondering if he wanted any, "Are you going to have any?" I asked, worried about his fat less cheeks and thin arms.
"I'm fine really," He didn't care about himself, only me. It was sweet, I guess. I shrugged and took a sip of the tea, thinking it tasted pretty good. I set the cup back down, and looked at the flowers again, being the nicest thing in the kitchen.
I pointed at them, "I like the flowers," Paul sat up, speaking quickly.
"Do you want one?" I shook my head but he spoke again anyway, "Really, you can have one if you want one." I decided to just accept what he was trying to give to me.
"The rose is nice," He reached over and pulled the rose out of the middle of all the flowers. He brought it over to me and gave it to me, after I took another sip of his tea. I twirled it in my fingers for the few moments it was quiet between us.
He broke it first, "What were you going to tell me?" His voice still shook when he spoke, but it seemed as though he was gaining for confidence in himself. I looked towards the flower, thinking about everything and how I was supposed to explain this to him without killing him with shock.
A single tear went down my cheek, from all the sadness and heartbreak I've had. Paul noticed quickly, of course.
"You're crying," He whispered at me, taking his hand and brushing the tear from my cheek. His hand was very cold, like it was almost frozen. I spoke, like it was no big deal.
"Am I? I've been crying a lot recently," I didn't look at him when I spoke, just the flower in my two fingers.
"W-why?" He pulled his hand away, seeing how I wasn't going to respond to winter like touch. I heard the clock strike nine in the background and waited for it to end, before I spoke to him again, sadly.
"He died McCartney," I wasn't lying.
"Who?" His voice was very worried, like I was being metaphorical about him or something.
I sighed, holding in my tears, and just came out bluntly about it, "Your son." I stopped moving the flower, and peaked over at Paul. His expression was still blank, as it's been for a while, but his eyes were full of feeling, as they always are.
"I have a son?" His voice was extremely shaky again, and I looked him right in the eyes, dropping the flower on the table.
"You did. I went to the doctor and found out the baby was dead, and that it was going to be a boy." I sniffled, holding in my tears, "I just thought you should know, now that he's gone." I scratched my cheek and looked back at the flower. I picked it up and stood up from the table, not wanting to hear anything else.
"I guess I should go," I was very VERY close to getting out of there, but then something happened, and I think my life was changed forever, for better and for worse.
"No," Paul grabbed my hand, with his frozen fingers, "Stay please, just for tonight. You can sleep in my room and I'll sleep out here, just stay." He pleaded with his voice and eyes. I sighed, thinking what was the big deal? I would leave in the morning and catch my train and everything would be ok. We would both move on.
But we all know, it's not that simple.
"Ok," I said.