Paul, though it was a work night, insisted that he took the couch when we went to bed. He wouldn't let me argue with him, and he seemed so anxious. When I asked him what was wrong, he just dismissed the question.
I couldn't sleep knowing he was downstairs awake and alone. I heard him pacing for about a half an hour straight. The poor lad would drive himself insane doing that.
After a few minutes of more pacing, I went downstairs to ask him what was wrong again. I found a teary-eyed Paul, sitting on the couch, staring at the phone like a puppy would stare at a door as it waited for its master to come home.
"Paul?"
He wiped his eyes. "Oh, Elle. Um...you should be sleeping."
"What's wrong, Paul? You can tell me these things. It's better to get them out than keep them in. I should know." I used the sleeve of my nightgown to dab away some of his tears. It hurt me to see him so sad.
"She hasn't called in ages. I've tried calling her but it's no use. Ringo said he thought he saw her at the Club with another man. And we're leaving for Paris soon. She promised me..." He managed to choke out. He couldn't meet my gaze. I could tell he was trying to contain another wave of tears.
I sat on my knees on the couch, still dabbing at his cheeks. "It's alright, Paul. Just let it out. You've seen me cry before. How is it any different?"
"I'm a man. I'm not supposed to cry." Paul let out a small laugh, but it was a bitter one.
"Come now, love. Am I really one to judge?" I opened my arms to him, and he accepted. Even though he was sad, he still was quite strong, and I felt warm in his tight embrace. Eleanor didn't appreciate the wonderful man she had. He would do anything for her, and she didn't care. As long as she could use him whenever she wanted. It sickened me.
But, in a way, was I any better? I was there that night with Paul, but the next night, I could be at George's house, in his arms. Paul still cared for me, and George had feelings for me. I was toying with them both.
Maybe it wasn't right of me to criticize Eleanor...
But at least you're not breaking Paul's heart.
After a few minutes of him whimpering into my shoulder, he let go. His big, perfect brown eyes were still filled to the brim with tears. Breaking Paul's heart is like kicking a puppy; it's just wrong.
I got up off the couch, and disappeared for a few minutes, leaving Paul alone. For a moment, I think he had forgotten where I had gone, and he called out my name, like a scared little boy. But then I returned.
As the record I had gotten started playing, I took his hands and helped him up off the couch. When we started to dance, he whimpered, "Elle, I don't want to," but soon he was swaying smoothly to the music too.
We were so close, too close for it to be friendly. But at that moment I didn't care. All I cared about was trying to make him stop crying. The poor little Beatle still had tears running down his cheeks. I kept hold of his hands and we danced even the song had long since ended. But the boy still was crying!
I needed to have a serious conversation with Eleanor. I wished she could see how upset he was.
"Paul?" I whispered. "You should get some sleep."
"I can't sleep."
"I'll sing for you."
After a moment of my pleading eyes, he gave in. I helped him take off his jacket, and draped a blanket over him, like I was tucking him in.
"Can it be something I've never heard?" He asked, peering over the covers like a little boy. His doe-eyes were watery, and there were a few tears on his cheeks. I gently wiped them away.
"Of course. Now close your eyes."
The song was something my mom actually sang to me when I was little, and it was one that anyone from my time would recognize, but it was after Paul's time. Well, at least that Paul.
Once there was a way to get back homeward,
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
I was sure that if time were a person they would have been tearing their hair out right then, for I was singing a song that Paul would write in the future. But it fit perfectly, and his tears subsided to sniffles as he closed his eyes.
Golden slumbers fill your eyes,
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
It was so strange singing this song to him. I felt like I was being pulled forward in time for a moment, but I was still with this young Beatle, one who didn't know just how big their band would be.
Once there was a way to get back homeward,
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Paul had drifted off into sleep, and I smiled. He was already snoring softly. Ever so gently, for I didn't want to wake him, I kissed his forehead and whispered, "Goodnight, darling. Wasn't that a pretty lullaby?"
Thankfully, Paul was a lot happier in the morning. We drove to the studio, and he held my hand the entire ride. I hoped this mood would remain for a long time. A small part of me thought that he might have forgotten Eleanor all together.
Though, it didn't last as long as I prayed.
Wanting some fresh air, I stepped outside the studio into the gloomy winter air. And as I was taking in the view of the port city, something bright red came in my view.
Eleanor was walking down the sidewalk with a man in tow, and they were arguing loudly.
"-me alone! I don't care anymore!"
"Oh, really! Because when you called me last night you said-"
Eleanor called him. Not Paul.
"That doesn't mean a thing!"
The man, obviously angry, grabbed Eleanor's arm and yanked her close, growling something I couldn't make out. As much as I didn't like her, I had been in that situation one too many times, and I was not going to let anyone be in that position if I could help it.
So I ran down the sidewalk, grabbed Eleanor's arm and said, with a chipper smile, "Oh, El! There you are! We've been worried sick about you!" I turned to the man. "Thank you for walking her over here! I've got it covered now." And with that, I turned and walked back towards the studio, tugging Eleanor with me.
As soon as we walked in, I led her into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She yanked her arm away from me. "How dare you touch-"
"Look, I just saved your ass. I'm not expecting a thank you, but I need you to listen to me." I demanded, startling her for a moment.
Calming myself, I spoke in a quieter tone. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot. I think that if we made a few compromises, we could be friends. Everyone could be happy, including Paul."
Eleanor snorted, and began to fix her hair in the bathroom mirror, as if I wasn't even there.
"I will stay out of your way. You can have Paul whenever you want, and I will go somewhere else." The statement caught her attention. "On one condition."
She narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"You get rid of all your secret boyfriends and you start treating Paul the way he deserves to be treated. He was practically sobbing last night because you haven't come to call in days. He knows you're unfaithful, but he won't admit it to himself. He thinks it's his fault that you're not always there. Like he isn't giving you his constant attention."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "He isn't. He's got the band to worry about. And isn't that why he started dating me, Elle? You weren't giving him enough attention?"
I fumed. "I am always there for him. Who comforted him last night when his girlfriend was with another man?"
"Paul's like a dog, Elle. He always needs to feel loved. But," she smirked at me, "his master can't always be there to care for him."
There were so many things I wanted to shout at her then, but this is what came out, "I highly doubt he's the dog in the relationship, you bitch."
Eleanor's face was red with anger. "Elle Sullivan-"
"You're breaking his heart, you know that, right? He loves you more than life itself."
Slowly, a smirk grew on her face. "Oh, really, now? Tell me, what would he do right now if I were to break up with him?"
I knew she was trying to get me to say something I would regret. "I could go out there and tell him about that man who was following you here. Because what he was saying definitely is evidence against you. But I'm giving you a chance. Paul can't take this much more."
As I walked past her to leave, she grabbed my arm and hissed, "Don't think this little plan of yours is flawless, Elle. I could do exactly what you're doing to me: make you look bad. Paul trusts me. I can tell him just how much of a freak you are." Her red nails dug into the skin.
"He already knows that," I yanked my arm away. I was sick of her little threats. "But who was the freak that was there for him when he needed it most?"