April 24, 1964
I watched as Paul, John, and George played a game of cards at my feet. I didn't really know what they were doing, but whatever it was, they were certainly enjoying it.
Ringo was outside filming some scenes alone. Today was finally the last day of filming and it seemed everyone was just excited to get out and be done. They had a few live shows coming up soon. Afterward, they were done with work for a good few weeks and it would finally be time for their vacation.
"I win again!" I heard George yell.
Paul threw his cards down frustratedly. John frowned. "Good job, Geo," they grumbled together.
John looked down at his watch. "It's already one," he grumbled. "Surely he'll almost be done?" He looked at me pleadingly.
"John, you do know we got here at noon, right?" I offered meekly.
"Seriously? It felt much earlier than that."
"Late night?" remarked Paul.
"Wouldn't you like to know," I sneered.
John gave a sarcastic smile. "Nothing within your interest," he responded.
"Would you like to play cards with us, Donna?" asked George timidly.
"I don't know how to," I admitted. "If you're willing to teach me."
"Of course we are," answered John, patting a space next to him on the floor with a little smile. I slid out of the chair and placed myself on the floor next to him.
Paul took the deck of cards and began to shuffle them. "Or we could play a simpler game for Epstein," he quipped. "Go Fish, perhaps?" I gave him a sarcastic smile.
"Paul, just pass the bloody cards out and shut up," said John.
"Oh, John," said Paul, stopping what he was doing to put a hand over his heart. "I'm hurt."
"Bloody hell," said George, snatching the cards and beginning to pass them out himself.
"You too, George?" asked Paul in the same innocent, joking voice.
"Yes," replied George stoutly.
~~~
The evening started out like any other would have.
"Have we got to go?"
I had looked at myself in the mirror. The dress wasn't too short for me, and it wasn't too tight either. I still didn't like it, though. I'd rather not be seen in it, but I didn't have a choice. It was one of the very few more formal dresses I owned.
"Of course we have," John had said, passing by the bathroom, but coming back when he got a full look at me.
"Bloody hell," he said, studying me up and down, mesmerized. His gaze made me all nervous like I wanted to fade away. His eyes came back up to meet my flustered expression, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Sorry, love," he had remarked, coming up and putting his hands on my hips. "Didn't mean to flatter you."
"You definitely did," I had replied with a giggle.
"If you should say so...." He had studied me again, fondly. "You're just so—." He had paused to find the right word. "—So gorgeous," he decided on finally, unable to stop smiling.
"Really?" I asked uncertainly, peeking at myself again.
He lifted my head so I was looking him directly in the eye. "Yes, really. What do you think I am? A liar."
"Of course not," I replied.
"What do you not like about yourself?" John had then asked, almost before I'd even finished responding to his last question, his grip on my waist still tight.
"Everything," was what I did not say. "Not exactly sure," I whispered. His face was inching closer to mine, so it didn't have to be too loud for him to hear.
A knock on the door downstairs had jerked us apart. John closed the distance between us with a hasty, meaningful kiss on my lips, and then turned to leave the room, tugging me along. I caught one more glance in the mirror before I was pulled downstairs to answer the door.
As expected, Paul was waiting on the doorstep. We had been able to see the ride waiting to take us to the Turks Head pub for a private party to celebrate the wrapping of the film.
Inside the car—which didn't really look too big from the outside—were the rest of the boys along with all of their girlfriends. They all said their hellos as John, Paul, and I seated ourselves.
From there, we all indulged in easy conversation. I had ended up sitting next to Jane, much to my delight.
At the party itself, a lot of alcohol had been consumed by crew and Beatles and actors alike. The evening was about enjoying yourself. That was definitely what had happened. It really wasn't my scene. I didn't like going out. I didn't like crowds. And I didn't like being seen in this bloody dress. I just wanted to be home. It felt like something was about to happen, something that wasn't good at all.
"Something wrong?" John asked me now, his words slurring together. Much like most everyone else, he was drunk. I'd had maybe one or two drinks. Not nearly as much as him, clearly. Things were finally calming down and it looked like I would finally get my wish.
I shook my head but didn't say anything. It wasn't a suspicious action in the slightest. Everyone and their grandmothers knew that I, Donna Epstein, did not like going out. The whole band teased me about it. Even Brian did sometimes. It was just normal.
John nodded in response, but I could tell that his attention was elsewhere. "We're heading out in about ten minutes," he told me. "That sound okay?"
"Yes," I answered quietly and he shuffled off towards a group of people that were now telling each other goodbye. I watched him as he walked away.
I'd made it this entire time without so much as a small panic attack. Quite frankly, I was proud.
About five minutes later, John finally stumbled back up to me. He hadn't drunk anything for the past hour, trying to pass all he'd had in the first two hours of us getting there so he could at least help me out of the place in case there were fans waiting. That was how it often went. He'd still be very drunk, obviously, but he'd have gathered his senses enough to see straight. It was one of the little things that I liked about him.
"Okay, love," he said to me, clearly fighting the alcohol in his system. "There is a bit of a crowd out there." My shoulders slumped and I felt the first prick of anxiety. I swallowed it. "But, it'll be okay. We've just got to get back to the car as quickly as possible. You can do that, can't you?"
I nodded, gulping nervously.
"Well, c'mon." He put his arm around me, pulling me close as we went around telling people goodnight. He stopped before we stepped outside to ask if I was okay again.
"Yes," I said. "Let's just get it over with, yeah?"
He nodded and tightened his grip on me, leading me through the door and into the chaos.
It wasn't a huge crowd, but just enough to make me feel uneasy. They were all screaming and it was already getting to me. The car looked like it was a hundred yards away. I zoned in on it to stay sane, but that only succeeded in making it stretch about a hundred yards more.
I don't know when I lost John. Something jerked us apart and I was left wandering around on my own. I managed to make it a few feet before the overwhelming sense of dread got the best of me. I felt someone tugging on my right arm. I turned, hoping it was John, but instead it was a fan.
I tried to pull out of their grip, I tried shouting at them, I tried to tune out whatever it was they were saying, I tried fading away, but I still heard them; clear as day.
"You don't deserve John," the girl hissed. "You don't want him for him. You want him for yourself."
It was too late now. She'd already gotten into my head. This girl I'd never seen in my life. She looked like she was older than me. Standing out and swarming four grown men. Now, that's pathetic.
She finally let go of me and I made a beeline for the car, not worrying about who I ran into in the process. It was a different car from before, this one being for only John and I. John was already inside when I finally made it, slamming the door behind me as hard as I possibly could. His brow glazed over in relief when he saw me but quickly changed to concern when a streetlight illuminated my face and he saw tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn't say anything. I just buckled my seatbelt and leaned against him.
I hated going out.