Whatever I was laying on was comfortable.  And wherever I was, it was warm.  My eyes still shut I moved my head slightly, immediately wincing with a throbbing pain that shot through like a brick.  Then I remembered—the truck.  It was coming fast at me and I got hit.  I squeezed my eyes together tight with pain and opened them slowly.  The hospital room was filled with an early morning light, and there were flowers sitting on a few of the tables.  I looked down at myself and winced seeing the scrapes on my arms.  It was quiet and peaceful and going back to sleep seemed like a great idea, the pain was spreading throughout my whole body and I just didn’t want to feel it anymore.  Before shutting my eyes again I noticed someone else in the room.  The visiting chair was pulled up so close to the bed they were touching.  Sitting in it was a man, his head leaning forward a bit, obviously in a deep sleep.  I cocked my head a little to get a better look at him.  He was handsome that was undeniable, but he looked worn out.  His hair was dark and much longer than the normal male cut in those days and it was messy—a comb had obviously not touched it for a couple days.  His face looked as though it may normally be clean shaven but had a light layer of hair covering the majority of it.  His clothes loosely draped over his petite yet muscular body.  I looked over at the vase of flowers sitting next to me and read the card. ‘Get well soon and we’ll be there to see you as soon as we can.  Micky and Brittany.’  That didn’t help me at all, though it made me wonder what they meant about ‘we’ll be there to see you as soon as we can’ or why their names were on the same card for that matter.  I heard a noise and turned back to the man sitting next to me.  He was awake and lifting his head slowly.  He rubbed his eyes and turned over to me, suddenly shocked.

            “Olivia love, you’re awake,” he said, seeming very relieved.  He took my hand in his and I just smiled slightly, “How are you feeling?”

            “Um,” I croaked, clearing my throat, “I’m alright.  It hurts everywhere,”

            “Cor, sweetheart I’m so sorry,” he said getting off the chair and leaning his face in towards mine.  Still confused I pulled back so fast, the pain shot through again.  Looking back at his face I noticed his eyes were red.  They looked sore as if he’d been awake for days, either that or crying.  He looked saddened and he just sat there, frozen in mid air.

            “I’m sorry,” I said suddenly, “I just—”

            “What is it love?” he asked again worried, but staying where he was.

            “Um,” I said pausing, “Who are you?” When those three words left my mouth he changed.  His face quivered slightly, and his eyes were getting full of water.  He swallowed, blinked, and sat back down, leaning his elbows on the side of the bed, his hands now away from mine and resting in each other under his chin.  He was silent, “It’s nice of you to visit me, but, I just, I, I don’t know who you are.  Have we met once before?”  He looked up at me again, pain everywhere in his face.

            “Yes we have,” he said quietly, swallowing again, “I’m Paul.  Paul McCartney,” as he said this he seemed to be staring into me, looking for any sign of recognition, but the name was unfamiliar.  I shook my head.

            “I don’t think I know you,” I said and he covered his face with his hands as a nurse walked into the room.  She smiled.

            “Olivia, I see you’re awake,” she smiled, “How are you feeling?”  She side glanced at the man named Paul McCartney and frowned slightly before turning back to me, putting a smile back on her face.  I looked away from Paul and back to her.

            “I’m okay, I still hurt,” I said, “How long have I been here?”

            “Three days,” the nurse replied looking at a few machines next to me as I continued to watch Paul, who was now seated all the way back in his chair, tears falling as he stared into space.

            “Am I supposed to know him?” I asked the nurse quietly.  She looked up quickly looking behind me at Paul and then sighing as she looked back at me.

            “I was afraid this was going to happen,” she said so quietly I barely heard her.

            “What would happen?”

            “Olivia, do you remember what happened to you?” the nurse asked me.  I nodded.

            “I got into a car accident.  A truck was coming much to fast, and he hit me,” she nodded.

            “That’s right,” she paused, “You were hurt very badly in the accident Olivia,” she began and I looked over at Paul who was now watching us sadly.  I turned back to the nurse, “You suffered a lot of damage to your brain tissue.  Many things can result from this.  Some patients die, some go into comas, and others lose portions of their memory….”

            “Okay…” I said not quite sure where she was going.  She sighed.

            “Olivia dear, Paul is your husband,” she said and I was shocked.  Husband?  I wasn’t married; I’ve never been married in my life.  I didn’t even have a boyfriend! I began shaking my head.

            “But I don’t even know him,” I said looking at him as he looked back into my eyes, tears falling down again.  He shut them and looked down at his lap.  I turned back to the nurse, “I’ve never seen him in my life; this must be a mistake,”

            “No dear it’s not.  I’m going to go talk to Doctor Jacobs; I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, “in the meantime, Paul?”  The man looked up.

            “Yes?” he asked.

            “I want you to tell her everything that happened,” she said looking back at me, “This may just be immediate, and you might jog her memory.”

            “I didn’t forget,” I said annoyed, “I’ve never seen him.”  The nurse smiled sadly.

            “I’ll try nurse,” Paul responded.  She nodded and left the room.

            “Wait, are you English?” I asked him and he turned to look at me.

            “Yes I am.  Born and raised,”  

            “How long have you been here in America?” I asked trying to make conversation.  I didn’t want him trying to tell me that I was his wife.      

            “Love, we aren’t in America,” he said slowly.

            “What do you mean?  I live in California,” I said, “The nurse was American,”

            “Yes I know, but we’re in England,” he said, “You live in England now,”

            “No, no I don’t,” I said getting frustrated and moving to sit straighter.  I yelped with pain.

            “I know this is hard for you,” he said nicely.  He seemed to be forcing himself to be calm, from crying that is, “It’s hard for me too.”

            “Hard for you?” I asked, “You’re trying to tell me things that aren’t true, while I’m laying here banged up from an accident.  How is this hard for you?”

            “That’s why I know it’s hard for you, but you’ve got to believe me,” he said taking my hand.  I pulled away and he breathed out shakily, “You know you got into an accident, right?”

            “Yes,”

            “So, why don’t you believe what the nurse said?  I mean isn’t it possible, that you may have damaged some of your memory tissues in the process?”

            “I suppose so, but,” I said looking at his sad face, “I’m sorry, it’s just hard.  I don’t remember you at all,”

            “I know you don’t,” he said, “And that’s why it’s hard for me.  It’s hard because I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now, and besides that, I—I—” he paused as he began to cry, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be doing this now, but I can’t believe this is happening.  Things were going so great, I was expecting you anytime in California, but instead I got a call saying you got into a serious car accident.  They, they, weren’t sure if you….if you….”  He faded off as he cried into his hands.

            “If I what?” I asked softly.

            “They said it was possible you wouldn’t make it,” he said after a few silent moments.  He looked at me his face wet from tears, “This is the first time you’ve showed any signs of living in three days….I almost lost you and when I think about that, I just can’t control myself.  Seeing you like this, knowing how much pain you must feel, knowing you don’t remember anything,” he paused once more, “knowing you don’t remember me—the man that loves you more than anything….”  He shook his head and wiped his eyes.

            “You really are my husband aren’t you?” I asked knowing he couldn’t possibly be faking any of this.  He nodded.

            “I am, and I love you more than anything,” he said taking my hand, in which I let him, “You and Mary….”

            “Mary?  Who’s Mary?”

            “Our daughter,” he said and flinched back.

            “My, my, I have a daughter?  How old is she?” I asked and now calmed down a little bit again, he answered.

            “She’s a little over a year old.  We had her last April,” he informed me.  None of this was coming back, but I knew it had to be true.  He let go of my hand and began digging in his wallet.  He pulled out a lovely picture—it was him with who must have been Mary, and then me.

            “That’s us,” I said staring longingly at it.  We all looked so happy, even the little baby.  A tear fell from my eye, “I want to remember Paul,” I said, “I want to remember you, I want to remember her, I want this,” I pointed at the picture.  Paul squeezed my hand.

            “I know, and you will,”

            “How do you know?  What if this is permanent?”

            “We can’t think like that.  I’ll tell you everything, and you just got to try your hardest to remember,”

            “I will,” I said, “Can I keep this?” I asked looking at the picture again.

            “Of course you can love,”

            “Thank you,” I said as the nurse returned back from visiting Doctor Jacobs.  She smiled at the two of us.

            “How are things going?”  She asked.

            “Better,” Paul said, “She wants to remember,” he finished and I nodded. 

            “That’s great,” she smiled, “Paul; may I talk to you out in the hall?”

            “Sure.  I’ll be right back love,” he said and left go of my hand as he left the room.  I looked around at the flowers again, wondering if I would remember everybody on those cards.  I looked back down at the picture and again a tear fell from my eye.  I was married to what seemed like a wonderful man who loved me very much.  I had a gorgeous baby girl, but I didn’t remember any of it.  I closed my eyes and searched through everything I had.  Crying from frustration I got nothing.  I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of my arms again, bruised and red from scrapes.  I touched one of the scratches lightly and cried.  Why me?  Why did this happen to me?  I had a perfect life, one in which now I don’t even remember.  Why did it have to happen to me?  The door opened and Paul entered back into the room. The moment he saw me he rushed over, apparently because I was crying.

            “Are you alright?” he asked anxiously.

            “I hate this,” I croaked through tears, “I can’t remember, I can’t,” I said.  Carefully he leaned over and hugged me.  I breathed in his smell, but there was nothing familiar about it, but his embrace was incredibly comfortable and I didn’t want to let go.  However, eventually I did and stared into his now wet eyes too, “How did we meet?” I asked.  He smiled slightly and sat back down in the chair.

            “I’m, well, when we met, it was 1964,” he began, “I was in a band called The Beatles back then, and well, we were the most popular group of that time,”

            “Wow, really?” I asked sniffing and he nodded, wiping his own tears.

            “Yes, but it wasn’t heaven.  Girls screaming and chasing you everywhere you went,” he shook his head, “Barely got any privacy at all.  It was our first time in America and we had a concert in Malibu, where you lived.”

            “Okay, I remember living there,” I said and he nodded.

            “We met backstage after the show.  You were in a band also, called The Bleeding Hearts, and you all were there,”

            “I was in a band?  What did I do?” I asked and he smiled what seemed genuine.

            “You sang actually, and played a few instruments,”

            “I sang?  Are you sure?” I asked horrified that I would do such a thing in front of thousands of people, and for a career no less.

            “Yes you sang love,” he laughed, “And you were great.  You have an amazing voice,”

            “Thank you,” I said blushing and he nodded, “Is that when we started dating?”

            “Oh no,” he laughed, “You had a boyfriend when we met, uh, Davy Jones?”  I laughed, though it hurt.

            “Davy Jones?  My next door neighbor?  The one from that group The Monkees?” I asked and he nodded.

            “Yes, that’s him.  You guys were actually engaged,”

            “Engaged?  Have I been married before?” I asked hoping the answer was no.  He smiled.

            “No love, just me.”

            “Thank God,” I said and he smiled again.

            “Engaged or not, I fell for you right away, as did the others in me band,”

            “The others?”

            “Yeah, there was me, I sing lead and play bass guitar.  John Lennon, was me best friend, and he sang lead and played guitar.  George Harrison sang backup and played lead guitar.  And then our drummer was Ringo Starr.  We all had a thing for you, except for Ringo—he was pretty attached to his girlfriend,”

            “Well, I should hope so!” I said, “Cheating is horrible, I don’t know why anybody would do that!” I said and Paul seemed to smirk, “Why are you making that face?” I asked getting a bit nervous.

            “Well, it’s just funny you should say that,”

            “Did I cheat with you!?” I asked horrified.  He made a face and shrugged.

            “Pretty much love,” he said.

            “I can’t believe I would do that.  Why would I do that?  Did you pressure me?” I asked almost getting angry.

            “No, not really,” he started but then made a face, “Well, I may have.”

            “I was engaged!” I said and he shook his head.

            “Yes I know, but when we started doing that, you weren’t.  It was a very long year…the longest of me life,” he faded off.

            “Then who were we fooling around behind?”

            “George.  You began cheating on Davy with George first,”
            “Are you sure?  I can’t believe I would do that!”

            “I know, and that’s the way you felt at the time.  You hated what you were doing to us all, and to yourself but you felt you needed to do it.  After a few weeks, you decided to break things off with Davy and began dating George, which I hated.  It was harder for me now to show my true feelings for you when you were with one of me closest friends.  Long story short, you began giving me the impression that you may care for me some, so I took advantage of that and began putting moves on you, stronger than I normally do,”

            “You normally do?” I asked, “Are you a huge flirt?”  He laughed hesitantly.

            “I was yes, but not anymore.  I’ve changed immensely,” he paused, “but yes, I loved girls and would flirt with everyone back in those days.  But after you began showing me how you had feelings for me, I began going beyond flirting and wouldn’t flirt as much with others.  Eventually, we both admitted that we wanted to be together but knew we couldn’t because of George,” he said.

            “Why didn’t I just dump George?”  I said and Paul laughed.

            “That’s what I wondered, but I also didn’t want you to hurt him.  We began fooling around with each other behind his back for quite a while, when like always, we got caught and he found out.  After him, you decided to go back to Davy because of me being a flirt, but again we began doing things behind his back,”

            “Gosh, I was horrible!  I’m not that type of person!” I said angry at myself.

            “I know you aren’t, you’re incredibly sweet and you wouldn’t hurt a fly, but like I said, you were confused.  It was hard for you, and I didn’t make it any easier because I wanted you.  Time went by though, and we finally began dating,” he shrugged, “We’ve been together ever since,”

            “Wow,” I said, “That’s quite the history, and I don’t remember any of it,”

            “You will love, you will,” he said taking my hand.  I smiled at his positivity.  I was beginning to feel exhausted.

            “Are you going to be here tomorrow?” I asked him, my eyelids growing heavy.  He nodded.

            “Of course.  I haven’t left the hospital since you’ve been here,” he said and I smiled.

            “Thank you,” I said and he nodded kissing me on the cheek, “I know this may seem weird, but I think I remember something,”

            “Really?” he asked softly.

            “Well somehow I know that I loved — love you very much.  There’s just something inside that tells me that we really care for each other,”

            “We do,” he said looking into my eyes, and crazy enough as I stared back they seemed vaguely familiar, and more familiar then just seeing him this day.

            “Will you tell me more later?  I need to rest,” I said and he nodded, pulling my sheets up around me.

            “Of course,” he said, “Rest as long as you need to, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he said and I smiled closing my eyes quickly drifting off to sleep.

            I looked over to the only filled bed to see Paul sleeping soundly and snoring softly.  I walked to the bed next to him and sat facing him.  He looked so sweet, innocent, and adorable.  I carefully reached out and removed a piece of hair away from his face (why I was so bold, I have no idea) so I could see him better. Just touching his face made my heart beat faster and my breath get quicker. He stirred in my doing so, but didn’t wake.  I sat there watching him sleep peacefully when I heard someone come in……

“Looks like Paulie’s got a crush on our new friend here.” We turned to see John smirking at us.  I thought maybe Paul would get angry again, but he didn’t. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, you are incredibly beautiful.” He said and with that he turned and walked back to the bathroom.  I was stunned.  Paul just said I was beautiful.  To my face!  George and Ringo walked back into the room.  George sat next to me. Some advice, don’t ever be in the same room with the two guys you’re most attracted to.  Trust me, the day just started and I’m already drooling over the both of them. 

            I tossed and turned that evening, having strange dreams about the stories Paul told me.  What was worse was I didn’t know if he had told me about what I had dreamed or if there was a chance I was remembering.  My body ached all night long and the few times I woke up crying Paul was quickly by my side telling me everything was going to be okay.  Falling back asleep again, I didn’t wake up until morning.  When I woke up this time, Paul wasn’t sleeping but he was reading the newspaper, and he had a clean face and his hair was brushed.  Not to mention he had new clothes on, ones that were not so loose.

            “Morning love,” he smiled at me setting down the paper, “Did you have an alright sleep?  I know you woke up a few times,”

            “Yes I did, thanks,” I smiled, “thank you for being so understanding and kind to me.  I know it must be hard, me not remembering you, but you’re still here beside me.”

            “And I always will be,” he smiled and I smiled back.

            “I love your accent, did I tell you that?” I asked and he laughed.

            “More than once love,”

            “Oh sorry,” I said embarrassed.  It was weird.  I had been with this man in front of me for what he said was over 6 years, but I felt like I was meeting him for the first time.  As I had mentioned, he was incredibly handsome, and I couldn’t help but feel an uncomfortable feeling of nervousness when he smiled at me or talked to me.  I knew I shouldn’t feel that way; I had a child with this man! “When did we get married?” I asked wanting so much now to remember him.  He smiled and pulled the chair closer to the bed.

            “We got engaged in ’67,” he started again, “We didn’t really know when we wanted to get married, but we wanted to be engaged, however, you ended getting pregnant so we got married earlier, seen as it’s some what looked down upon,”

            “I got pregnant?  We had sex before marriage?” I asked and he looked at me and seemed like he didn’t know what to say to that.  He even seemed a little bit embarrassed.

            “Speaking from what you remember now, you’re still a virgin aren’t you?” he asked me and feeling embarrassed again I nodded.

            “Yes, I want to wait until after I’m married,” I said and he looked away.

            “You didn’t love, and I wasn’t your first,”

            “What?!” I asked, “Was I a slut?”

            “No!  Of course not,” Paul said laughing a little, “No, you had, uh, had sex with Davy,” he said seeming uncomfortable, “After we got together you had stopped doing that with him, and then from then on it was just me,” he said and I blushed.

            “This is one of the weirdest feelings,” I said, “I mean, I knew we had to of…um…had sex, because of Mary but I didn’t think we did it before marriage,”

            “Sorry love,” he laughed, “we didn’t wait,”

            “You say that as if we did it right away,” I said looking curiously at him.

            “Well….yeah, we did sort of,” he said and I was so shocked my eyes grew big uncontrollably.        

            “Did we, or do we, um,” I grew nervous, I couldn’t get it out.  He smiled and this time he seemed to have a different smile.  It was a smile of pride maybe.  Or even maybe as though he was feeling good about himself.

            “Do we do it a lot?” he asked me and I couldn’t believe he said that.

            “Um, how’d you know I was going to ask that?”

            “I just did,” he laughed, “And I hope it’s alright, but, well, the answer is yes,”

            “I can’t believe this,” I said, not being able to imagine myself as a sex fiend.   He laughed.

            “Don’t worry about it love, we’re married,”

            “Oh, so we didn’t have sex a lot before then?”

            “Okay, yeah, we did,” he laughed, “But we’re in love, and as weird as this may seem to you, we’re good together, so it’s only natural,”

            “You’re right, this is really weird,” I said feeling awkward, “Let’s get back to the important facts,” I said and he smiled.  I hadn’t noticed how much talking to him about this was making me feel better.  I seemed to forget about being in pain and he seemed to forget about almost losing me or that I didn’t remember him.

            “Okay okay,” he laughed, “Where was I?  Oh yes, you got pregnant so we ended up getting married quite early.  It was alright though because for the most part nobody really caught on, which was good, because that’s not why we got married, we had planned to anyway.  So in 1968 we tied the knot,”

            “I understand,” I said then got confused, “Wait, if we got married in ’68, then, how is Mary only—“

            “That wasn’t Mary,” he said suddenly serious and a bit sad, “You had a miscarriage,” he said and a tear fell.  Either he never got over the situation, which I can understand, or there was more to the story than he was leading on.

            “We did?” I asked feeling sad, but not nearly as sad as I would have if I had remembered.

            “Yes.  It was very difficult for us, but we got through it.  Our friends were there for us, and we were there for each other.  Soon enough Mary was born and we couldn’t have been happier,” he smiled, “I skipped a lot, but as you know we moved to England shortly after we began to date, which means you had to quit your band,”

            “That’s too bad,” I said, “But I bet it was worth it,” he smiled at that.

            “I hoped so, I felt terrible but you assured me it’s what you wanted.  Now, I’m doing the finishing touches on the end of my band, so it’ll just be you and me.”

            “Your band is done?  I thought you were the most popular group?”

            “We were, and in a way, we, they, still say we are, but it just wasn’t working out with us as a group anymore.  We were beginning to get sick of each other and all we did is fight.  It was time for a change—we weren’t all 16 anymore.  It’s time to begin our lives,”

            “That’s understandable,” I nodded, “I’m sorry,”

            “Oh don’t be, it’s for the best,” he smiled, “Besides, you’ve been by my side the entire time.  I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”  I smiled and he squeezed my hand, “Look, you’re beginning to look tired again,”

            “I am a bit,” I said hating how I couldn’t stay awake.  I wanted to keep talking to him.

            “Why don’t you go back to sleep for a bit and rest?”

            “Okay,” I said shutting my eyes, “Thank you for everything Paul,”

            “You’re welcome Shniz,” he replied.  I wasn’t quite sure what Shniz meant, but I was too tired to ask.  Instead I fell quickly again to sleep.

  She left the room and I just sat there crying silently to myself.  When Paul asked me if I was kicked in the stomach, I chose not to tell him I was because I didn’t think it was hard enough to do anything. Paul.  How was I going to tell Paul that we weren’t having a baby because it—died.  When was I going to tell him?  I didn’t want to ruin his whole trip by telling him tonight, but he might be offended if I didn’t tell him right away.  And what about everyone else?  The plans I had with the girls was to go baby shopping, and Aunt Jin?  She was so happy….we were all so happy and now it wasn’t going to happen.  Will Paul and I ever be able to have kids now—does miscarriage always happen?  Dr. Joyce returned with a cup of water and some white pills.  I swallowed them down, once again wiping away my tears……..the truck was coming fast.  He was swerving a bit on the road, so he must’ve been drunk.  I knew if I were to stop the car it wouldn’t matter and speeding up wouldn’t give me enough time.  I stared at it as he got closer and closer to me.  Soon I was hit.  The pressure from his truck was so intense it knocked me out right away.  I woke up for a few minutes not being able to move, there was blood all over the seats of the mini cooper.  There were cop cars all around and somebody was pulling my limp body from the car and I caught a glimpse of the truck driver being arrested.  I turned my head back feeling the hot tears falling down my scraped face.  Everywhere stung.  My legs, my head, my chest, my stomach.  I heard voices mumbling my condition and heard the words ‘very serious’.  I thought about Paul.  He was waiting for me in California, and I wouldn’t be coming.  I hoped someone would call him right away.  The men placed me on a stretcher and my head was getting heavy and hot.  I was fading away, but trying desperately to hold on.  I couldn’t do it I was leaving, it was getting darker and darker as the moments went by.  If I were to die, I wouldn’t be the only one……

I felt cold, I was shivering, and tears were streaming down my face.  I opened my eyes to be faced with flowers and looked around.  I was the only one in the room.  I lifted my hands to my face and felt something quite large on the upper left side of my head.  The tears were coming faster and I couldn’t control it.  I looked at my arms and saw the red scrapes and blue bruises.  I lifted the covers and saw a few more scratches on my legs.  Immediately I brought my hands underneath my nightgown and felt my stomach.  My heart stopped.

“No, no, no,” I mumbled to myself and I looked inside my nightgown.  There was a bandage taped across the length of my stomach and when I lifted it painfully, there was a scar going the length of it.  I brought my hands to my face and cried.  Why did this have to happen?  What did I do to deserve this?

“Olivia?!  Love what’s wrong?” I took my hands away from my face and saw Paul running towards me from the door.  He was carrying food which he threw onto the table and embraced me carefully.  It hurt like hell but I squeezed him as hard as I could.  He was here, I was alive.

“The baby Paul, the baby,” I sobbed and he pulled away looking at me confused.

“What?”

“The baby Paul,” I cried, “It killed the baby didn’t it?!” I could barely see Paul through the blur in my eyes.  He stared at me, a few tears falling from his eyes.

“You remember?” he asked me.

“Remember what?” I asked.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Paul why are you asking me this?!  Of course I know who you are!” I cried confused, “You’re my husband!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to seem weird, but you lost your memory for a few days, you didn’t know who I was,” he said and I calmed down a bit.

“What?  How could I not remember you?  You’re everything to me, and Mary, where’s Mary?” I asked looking around.

“It’s alright love, Jin’s watching her.  I’m so glad you are back, I tried telling you everything and you weren’t remembering, I thought it was no good….” he said hugging me again with more tears, “I love you so much,”

“I love you too Paul,” I said crying again, “We lost it didn’t we?” I asked again and he pulled away looking into my eyes and I knew the answer through his tears.  He nodded and he could barely speak.

“Yes, it was killed,” he croaked out, “And I almost lost you too,” he said starting to cry even more, “I almost lost you….”

“I’m here,” I said crying into his neck, “I’m still here,”

“How are you feeling?  Are you in pain?  Do you need me to get someone?”

“The only person that I need is here,” I said pulling him to sit on the bed with me.  Painfully, I positioned my self to rest on his chest and he carefully held onto me as I tried to calm down.

“Cor love, I’m so glad you remember,”

“Me too,” I said, “I can’t believe I forgot you, I can’t see how that’s possible considering how much I love you,” I said and he smiled kissing me on the forehead, “I can’t believe we lost the baby…” I said crying again.

“I know love, but as horrible as it sounds, I’m glad it was just the baby and not you too…I wouldn’t be able to handle all that,” he said softly crying a bit again.

“Paul, am I going to be okay?” I asked worried feeling pain everywhere.

“Yes love,” he answered, “You’ll have a long recovery time, but there’s not permanent damage, other than a few scars.”

“How bad is my face?  I haven’t seen it….”

“It’s not at all surprisingly, I mean, you have a pretty bad scratch and bruise under your hair here,” he said touching it lightly, “but other than that, they’re minor scratches that will go away,”  I hugged him tighter.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said.

“What about us?” I opened my eyes, and Paul must have had his shut too, because he was as surprised as I was when we saw George, John, and Ringo standing in my room.