The first bits of 1970 really weren’t that bad, but when I look back now, I can see how everything was just adding to the big climax—which occurred a few months later.  Late in December last year, Paul decided it was time to get The Beatles mess started with.  He approached the High Court in London and asked for a receiver to look after the boys assets.  We hadn’t heard back thus far, and mostly Paul was now busy with the new album.  As usual, when he started working with the guys again, he came home in a rather fowl mood.  Today wasn’t one of his best—and it was days like this that made me unsure if I could take this life.  It was later than usual and he walked into the house going straight to the kitchen to grab a beer—which was also another common ritual for him.  I was cleaning the living room a bit and he soon joined me.  I smiled at him and then realized he wasn’t even looking at me.  Instead, he flipped on the TV and sat on the couch.  I stood up and just looked at him.

            “Hello,” I said a bit annoyed he chose not to say anything to me—or look at me for that matter.  However I covered my annoyance because I knew he probably had a bad day. He looked over and smiled the weakest smile I’d ever seen, and then turned his eyes back to the TV taking another swig of beer,

“How was your day?” I asked making conversation.  He didn’t even flinch and continued to act like I wasn’t there. Frustrated I picked up my cleaning things on the floor and walked past him to the kitchen, “Are we not talking today?” I asked returning to the living room and sitting next to him.  He didn’t answer.  I was getting tired of this so I stood up and turned off the TV standing in front of it.  Paul stared at me.

            “What the hell are you doing?” he asked me.  I raised my eyebrows.

            “Well it’s not what I was expecting but at least you are talking to me,” I said and he squinted his eyes.

            “Olivia don’t be a smart ass,” he said taking a drink, “Turn the tele back on,”

            “Sorry,” I apologized, “What happened today Paul?” I asked him, feeling a bit of sympathy for him.  He was a jerk sometimes, but I knew it was hard for him with all the crap going on at work.  Though I had to admit, it was getting a bit tiring. 

            “Turn the tele back on Olivia,” Paul said firmly not answering my question.  I placed my hands on my hips.

            “No,” I said in return.

            “Why the hell not?” he asked.  I could see he was clearly annoyed.

            “Why won’t you talk to me?” I asked him feeling a bit hurt.

            “Because I don’t want to talk to you,” he said taking a drink and I looked at him suspiciously, “What now?  Why are you eyeing me that way?” he asked.

“Paul did you come right home after work?” I asked him and he looked at me, his eyes angry.

            “Why?” he asked, then shook his head laughing to himself, “Let me guess love, you think I went and fooled around with some fookin bird?” I scowled, and started to protest when he continued, “Are you ever going to learn?  I’m not like that anymore!” he said standing up angry. 

            “Paul I didn’t say anything,” I told him, and my question already had an obvious answer.

            “Oh yeah?  Then what were you going to say Olivia?” he asked challenging me. 

            “I was going to ask you if you were drunk,” I said flatly, “But I already know that answer,” I said walking away from him to the kitchen.  He followed me.

            “Yeah?  Maybe I am—what bloody of it Olivia?” he asked me and I turned to face him scowling.  I was sick of his attitude.

            “Stop saying my name after everything,” I told him.

            “I can say your damn name if I please,” he said taking a drink.  I clenched my teeth together.  I hated him when he was drunk—especially when it was mixed with a bad day.  He could get so rude. 

            “You know what Paul, I’m glad you didn’t want to talk to me,” I said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you anymore,”

            “Good,” he said leaving.

“Good,” I repeated.

“Ugh, I don’t need this shit anymore,” he mumbled walking off and I followed him.

            “What did you just say?” I asked him and he turned, “You don’t need this shit anymore?!” he raised an eyebrow at me seeing how I was getting angry, “And what shit is this may I ask?”

            “You,” he replied, and I widened my eyes in surprise, “Every day I come home it’s always, ‘Paul what’s wrong?’ and ‘Paul we need to talk about this’,” he stopped, “Well I don’t fookin want to talk about it!” he yelled throwing his empty bottle against the wall smashing it.  I had never seen Paul like this before—never this angry—and I started shaking with tears in my eyes.  Mary was crying because of the loud noise and I ran over to grab her.

            “Paul look what you’ve done,” I said picking her up and pointing to the glass on the floor.  He rolled his eyes.

            “Look what I’ve done?” he laughed, “That’s right Olivia, it’s always my fault.  Heaven forbid it’d be yours.  I’m always the one who will be apt to cheat, I’m always the one who’s the asshole…You’re just a perfect little angel aren’t you?  Never would do anything wrong,” he spit out and my eyes flooded more with tears, “Oh wait, yes you have,” he said as if just remembering something, “That’s right you were screwing around with three guys at the same time,” he finished with a frown, walking into the kitchen.  I stood in total shook of his last comment—he started to sound like John a few years ago.  Mary had calmed down so I set her in her crib this time away from the glass.  With tears welling up in my eyes I went into the kitchen with Paul.  He was pulling another beer out of the fridge.

            “Why would you say that?” I asked him.  He looked up at me, startled I had followed him.

“What?” he asked me and I looked away for a moment.

“Why did you say that?  You act like it was something I did on purpose—like I thought it was fun,” I said angry.  He laughed to himself.

“Why else would you do it?  You knew it was hurting me, hurting Davy—you must have thought it was fun,” he said and I couldn’t believe it.

“Do you mean that?” I asked him point blank.  He just looked at me, “Paul!” I shouted at him, “Did you or did you not just mean what you said?”

            “Olivia,” he began and walked towards me.  I backed away, which seemed to make him more angry..

            “No Paul, you answer my question right now,” I said and he frowned, “Did you or didn’t you mean what you just said?” I asked for the last time.  Paul was clearly annoyed and took a sip of his beer.

            “I’ve always said I’d never lie to you,” he said matter-of-factly.  With that I was furious and completely crushed.  I never in a million years would expect Paul to say something like that to me.  I broke down completely, sitting on the floor and just balling, “Ah come on, love, don’t cry,” Paul said and I looked up at him, and then stood up.

            “Don’t call me that,” I said through my teeth, “Don’t call me love and act like everything is okay,” I said.

            “I was only trying to make you feel better,” he shrugged taking a drink. As he drank, I hit the bottle making it fly out of his hand and land on the floor, smashing like the other one.  He stared at me, “What the hell is your problem today?” he asked me.

            “What is MY problem?!” I shouted.

            “Yeah, are you PMS-ing or something?” he asked, wiping his mouth from the beer, “Ah look at this— you got beer all over me shirt, and the floor,”

            “That’s not even half of what you deserve right now,” I said crying.

            “You know, this is what I’m talking about,” Paul said pointing at me, “This is what I don’t need right now.  I don’t need you blaming everything on me, making me seem like I’m this horrible person.  I just wanted to come home and relax—not talk to anybody, least of all you,”

            “You know what?  I’ll make it easy for you,” I said and Paul huffed.

            “Oh yeah how?”

            “I’m leaving,” I said. And left the kitchen in tears.  Paul followed me out and watched me as I picked up Mary.

            “And where are you going to go?” Paul asked leaning against the wall.  I looked up.

            “I’m going to go stay with my mom,” I told him still gathering Mary’s stuff.

            “And how will you get a flight?” he asked me, “I’m usually the one that has to do that for you.  And I’m the one that has the money, anyway,” I glared up at him and put Mary down.  I walked over to him and slapped him across the face.  He was shocked as he rubbed his cheek.

            “James Paul McCartney don’t you ever talk to me like that!” I yelled, “I moved my ass 3000 miles for you!  I left my only friends and family for you!  I loved singing more than anything in the world, and I left that for you!  I sit home alone and do nothing all day for you!  I used to have my own money, and I perfectly capable of getting my own things!” I yelled at him and his face seemed to change to a bit of sadness, “Don’t you act like you HAVE to do all this because I’m just some poor girl who doesn’t have any money.  Because I--” I pointed at him my eyes glazed over with tears, “Because I love you so much, I gave that all up.  I wanted to do it, and I’m happy I did.  It’s hard for me, and I knew it would be—but you, you act like you’ve expected me to just deal with it.  It’s like you don’t care,” I said almost breaking down again.

            “Olivia I’m so sorry,” Paul said quietly and putting his arms around me.  I pulled away and pushed him on his chest.

            “No!  Don’t act like everything’s okay!” I yelled letting it all go now, Mary crying as well, “I hate you!”

            “Olivia please,” Paul said more concerned now.

            “No, Paul, I hate you!  I hate you!” I yelled leaving him and picking up Mary.  Paul just stood still, staring at the floor.  I put my self together momentarily, “I’m going to my mom’s Paul,” I said and he looked up.

            “Love please,” he began again and I shook my head.

            “I said not to call me that,” I told him once more, “I’m taking Mary and we’re going,” I finished and walked upstairs into our bedroom.  There was a picture of Paul and I sitting on Paul’s night table and I put it face down on the dresser.  I didn’t even pack nice—I just took a whole bunch of me and Mary’s things and stuffed them into a bag.  I grabbed a few toiletries and stuffed them in as well.  I zipped up the bag, crying, and grabbed Mary.  I put her in her winter clothes and put on my coat.  Thisbe purred and rubbed against my leg and I smiled picking him up.  I gave him a kiss on the head and set him down.  I picked Mary up once more and grabbed my suitcase.  When I got downstairs Paul was no where in sight, and frankly I could care less.

            The taxi driver dropped us off at the airport and I walked in hoping I’d get a flight out of here today—it was rather late, but I just wanted to leave this country.  I walked up to the front desk.

            “Hello,” the man said looking up from his desk.  He smiled big when he saw me, “Nice to see you Mrs. McCartney,” he said and I cringed.

            “Thank you,” I said, “Is there any flights out of here to Seattle soon?” I asked him.  He did some checking and looked up.

            “Well, we do have one leaving in about 10 minutes actually,” he said and I was relieved, “However, it looks a bit full,” My shoulders sank.

            “Please, isn’t there anything you can do?—I really need to get on this flight,” I said.

            “Let me check for you Mrs. McCartney,” he said leaving his desk and I wished he would stop calling me that; he stopped and turned around, “Will Mr. McCartney be joining you?”

“No,” I said and tried to hold back my tears.  He nodded and left the room.  A few moments passed and he returned, “We can fit you in, but it’ll have to be in coach…” he said hesitant.  I smiled to let him know it was alright.

            “Oh coach is fine.  I never rode first class until I met Paul anyway,” I said and he smiled.  He did a few things and gave me a ticket.  I made my way to the gate as fast as I could and was just in time for the boarding.  I slept most of the way there, along with Mary.  It was much colder here than in was in London and I quickly got a taxi to take me home.  When we got there I stood in front of the door for a few minutes.  I hadn’t been here in quite a while; I believe the last time I was actually home was the last time I had left Paul.  I knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

            “Hello?” I yelled and I heard some rumbling from the living room area, “Anyone home?”

            “Olivia?  Is that you?” I heard my mom as she appeared in the entry.  She came over and gave me a hug, kissing Mary on the forehead, “Dear girl, what are you doing here?” she asked and I shrugged.

            “Thought it was about time for a visit,” I said setting my bag down.  My mom held Mary as I took my coat off and headed to the living room, “Where is everyone?”

            “Oh Phil is in town and he’s with Anita and Fig at the mall,” my mom said, “Want some coco?   You look freezing cold,”

            “Sure,” I replied setting Mary on the ground with some toys, “Who’s Anita?” I asked looking around our living room.  I frowned as I saw a picture of Paul, myself, and Mary sitting above the fireplace mantle. 

            “Oh, Anita is Phil’s new girlfriend, well, fiancée actually,” my mom said returning and handing me the cup.

            “His fiancée?!” I asked surprised.  My mom nodded with a smile.

            “We were a bit surprised too, but it’s true.  They seem like a good match,” she said sitting down next to me. 

            “Does that mean she’s got a stick up her butt too?” I asked taking a sip and cringing because of its heat.  My mom laughed.

            “No, she’s quite nice actually,” she said and I nodded in surprise, “She’s seemed to make Phil a little lighter hearted too,” 

            “That’s a plus,”

            “Speaking of relationships,” my mom started, “Where’s yours?”  I tried to smile.

            “He had to work,” I barely got out.  Just thinking about the real story made me hurt all over again.  My mom nodded suspiciously.

            “He had to work?  Or is there something else?” she asked and I looked at her tears welling.  I stared down at my cup.

            “I don’t know if I can do this anymore mom,” I said quietly.  She scooted closer to me.

            “Do what honey?”

            “Be with him,” I said crying even more.

            “Well, that’s a pretty serious thing to say,” She said and I just looked at her, “What happened?”

            “We got into a huge fight,” I said, “The Beatles are having serious problems, and well, they’re splitting up,” I confessed and my mom looked a bit shocked but kept that aside for the time being and let me talk, “He’s been coming home drunk and moody—a lot.  I’ve been able to deal with it, but today I just couldn’t take it,”

            “Why is that?” she asked me.

            “Because he ignores me and acts like I’m just making his life even worse,” I said crying.  And my mom shook her head.

            “Now sweetheart, you know that’s not true.  Even I know that boy loves you more than anything,” she said and I nodded.

            “And I love him,” I said, “I don’t want to leave him—I don’t.  But I can’t keep having him come home pissed drunk and shouting things to me that make me feel worthless,” I said rubbing my nose.  My mom placed a hand on my back.

            “You said you love him?” she asked and I nodded looking at her.

            “More than anything,” I said and she nodded.

            “Then you can’t give up.  Relationships are hard—and unfortunately yours is a bit more difficult than normal because of his career.  But Olivia, think of all the good times you two have had together.  Think about how much you love him, and how much he loves you.  Think about how much better things will be once all this is over,” she said and I nodded slightly, “That’s what people do in relationships—they argue, they fight, they make-up, they have fun, and most of all they love unconditionally.  He may be a jerk sometimes, and I hate him when he treats my baby like this,” she said and I laughed slightly, “But I know he would do anything in the world for you.”

            “I know he would too,” I said quietly, “I just can’t deal with his moods lately.  I don’t even think I was this bad when I was pregnant with Mary,” I said and got a laugh out of myself and my mom, “But I mean, one day all he wants is to talk to me and just be with me—ignoring everything else, and the next day, like today, he blames everything on me and doesn’t want anything to do with me!”

            “I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said,” my mom told me and I shrugged.

            “Why would he say it then?  Why would he say things he knows would hurt me?” I asked and my mom laughed.

            “Because that’s what people do when they are angry—especially men.  They want other people to share their miserable feelings and so they lash out saying things they know is going to make that other person feel bad—but they don’t mean half of what they say.  And I guarantee when he realizes what he’s said, he’ll wish he had never opened up his mouth,” My mom said and I smiled.

            “Maybe, but for now, I don’t want to see him and I don’t want to talk about him,” I said, “I love him to death, but he hurt me.  And right now I hate him.”

            “That’s fine dear,” my mom said and we heard the door opening.

            “Is Olivia here?” I heard Phil’s voice.  I wiped my tears dry and stood up as they came in.  I smiled and Fig ran over as usual and hugged me. 

            “Hey Fig,” I smiled as he let go and I gave Phil a hug.

            “How’s it going sis?” he asked.

            “Pretty good,” I smiled, “And who’s the pretty girl you have with you?”  He smiled.

            “My fiancée, Anita.  Anita this is my young sister Olivia,” he introduced us. 

            “Nice to meet you,” she said with a smile.

            “Same to you,” I said, “So when did this occur?”

            “Couple months ago,” Phil said kissing her cheek as we all sat down, “We met at a Math convention I had to go to for work, and we just clicked,”

            “A month later and he asks me to marry him,” she smiled as they kissed again.  I smiled remembering when I was like her. 

            “Have you set a date then?” I asked and they shook their heads.

            “No not really, we just knew we wanted to get married,” Anita said. 

            “Congratulations you guys,” I said smiling.

            “Thanks,” Phil said looking around, “So where’s Paul?  Is he smoking outside?  Though I didn’t see him…” I shook my head.

            “No, he couldn’t make it.  He’s busy with work,” I said trying to hold myself together.  My mom side glanced at me.

            “That’s too bad, I would have loved to meet one of The Beatles,” Anita said smiling and I smiled in return, “Is this your baby?” she asked me looking at Mary.  I nodded.

            “That’s my granddaughter!!” My mother said, “Isn’t she adorable?”

            “Yes she is,” Anita smiled, “She has beautiful big eyes, and that head of dark hair!”

            “Takes after her dad,” I said, “I’m going to go put my stuff upstairs,”

            “Alright dear, we’ll be eating in a few hours…did you eat before you flew here?  I know there’s that time change...” my mom asked.

            “No I didn’t eat,” I said and she nodded as I made my way upstairs.  I put my things in my old room and just sat on the bed.  I laid back and shut my eyes, just wanting to forget about earlier that day.  The 11 hour flight was making me tired and I just wanted to take a nap.  Slowly I drifted off into a light sleep. 

            The ringing of a phone startled me as I opened my eyes.  I rubbed them gently and looked at the time.  It was seven o-clock meaning I had slept for a good 6 hours.  There was a note on my pillow and I picked it up ‘Olivia--came up and saw you sleeping.  You looked peaceful I didn’t want to wake you, so we saved some dinner for you when you wake up.  Mom’.  I smiled and sat up setting the note down.  I yawned and there was a light knock on the door.

            “Come in,” I called out and my mom walked in turning on the light.  I squinted and as my eyes focused she stood holding the phone, her hand covering the mouthpiece.

            “How was your nap?” she asked me smiling. 

            “Good, it was refreshing—I needed it,” I said.  I pointed at the phone.

            “Who’s that?” I asked and she looked around the room before looking back at me.

            “It’s Paul,” she replied and I frowned.

            “Paul? What does he want?” I asked mad.

            “What do you think?  He wants to talk to you—he doesn’t sound good.  I think he feels horrible,” she said a look of sadness on her face, “And isn’t it like one in the morning there?” she asked.

            “I don’t care how early it is there.  I don’t want to talk to him,” I said getting up and leaving my mom in the room.  I walked downstairs and everyone was seated in the living room watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

            “Good morning sunshine,” Phil kidded.  I smiled.

            “Yeah, I didn’t know I was going to sleep that late,” I said. 

            “There’s some chicken and potatoes in the fridge for you if you are hungry,” Phil told me and I nodded making my way into the kitchen.  I yawned again as I pulled out the leftovers and heated them in the oven.  I sat at the table and waited.  My mom came in a few minutes later and hung up the phone.  She sat next to me.

            “He’s hurting Olivia,” she said to me.

            “He should,” I said sternly, “He hurt me.”

            “Will you just call him back?” she asked me and I stood up annoyed.

            “What?  You are taking his side?” I asked, “Do you want to know what he said to me?” She shook her head.

            “No, I’m not taking his side, but,”

            “No, you are taking his side.  Just like when I told him not to come here five years ago, and Tom took his side,” I said and I laughed, “You’re still falling into his trap,”

            “His trap?” she asked me and the buzzer went off and I pulled my supper from the oven.

            “Yes, you know as well as I do, how charming he can be,” I said, “Why do you think he always gets what he wants---because he just sweet talks everyone into taking his side and agreeing with him,”

            “Olivia, he didn’t sweet talk me and I’m not taking his side,” my mom repeated, “I just think you two should talk.  Ignoring him isn’t going to solve anything.  And I can tell he’s realizing what he had done,” she said and I grabbed my glass of milk and sat down.

            “Yes well, ignoring him is making me feel good right now,” I said taking a bite of chicken.  My mom sighed,

“You’re young and have a lot to learn,” she said and I looked up at her.

“Being young has nothing to do with it,” I said, “He was a jerk mom.  He basically called me a slut and acted like I was a burden, rather then someone he loved.  I have a right to not want anything to do with him,” I said taking another bite frustrated that he always made everyone go for his side.

“But like I said, doing nothing about it, isn’t going to solve anything,” she said.

“Yes, well I need this time to think,” I said staring down at my food.

“Think about what?  Olivia you aren’t going to leave him…are you?”  She asked.

“I don’t know,” I said standing up, “But I’m not hungry anymore.” I said and left the room.  I went back upstairs and shut my door, laying on my bed crying.   I had always known it was going to be hard, but I didn’t think it was going to be this hard.  I never thought I would have to wonder if I should stay with him or not.  I loved him—loved him to death, but I didn’t know if I could handle this any longer.  Once again I just drifted off to sleep, mostly due to exhaustion of the tears. 

The next morning I woke up around 7am.  I couldn’t sleep anymore and once again there was a note lying next to me.   I picked it up, ‘Phil, Anita, Fig, and I went out for the day.  We’ll be home later this afternoon.  I took the liberty of taking Mary with us to give you a few hours to yourself.  Please, think before you speak and be smart.  Mom’.  I set the letter down and was a bit confused with her last statement.  I shrugged my shoulders and, since I was alone, I just wore my pjs downstairs to get some breakfast.  I was starving because of not eating dinner the night before and I pulled out a bagel and yogurt.  I was feeling a bit better today and hummed to myself as I got everything out. I turned to grab a knife for the cream cheese and dropped my bagel on the floor.

“Hey love,” Paul said to me standing a few feet away.  He looked horrible.  He had whiskers growing and his hair was a mess.  He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.  I bent down carefully and picked up my bagel, setting it on the counter.  I was angry inside as I finally understood my mom’s last statement ‘Please think before you speak and be smart’.  She knew he was here. 

“Paul what are you doing here?” I asked him.

“Why do you think?” he said in return.

“I don’t know, but you obviously didn’t get the hint yesterday,” I said, “I don’t want to talk to you and I definitely don’t want to see you,” I said and he nodded.

“I know, and that’s alright, but you have to let me talk,” I laughed at him.

“I have to huh?  Just like how you have to pay for things for me?  The way you have to book flights for me?  The way you have to deal with me, even though you don’t want me?” I asked referring to our conversation yesterday.  He looked as if he were about to cry.  I shook my head, “If you are coming to try and apologize, you can forget it,” I said turning around.

“You won’t even let me try?” he asked softly and I could feel he was closer behind me.  Tears fell silently down my cheeks as I stood my back to him.  I turned around angry.

“Why?  Why should I let you Paul?” I asked firmly, letting my tears fall freely.  He swallowed, “You hurt me—you hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt before, and I hate you for that,” I said putting my hands up to my face and crying.  Paul pulled me to him and I let him, crying into his chest as he held me, “I hate you for that,” I said softly muffled by his chest.

“I know love, I know you do.  And you can—I’m glad you do,” he said and I looked up at him confused—and I noticed his eyes were quite red, “Me hating me self for what I did isn’t enough punishment—what I said was horrible and I can’t believe I did it.  I don’t mean anything I said, but I’m glad you hate me too—I deserve it,” I looked away from him and bit my lip trying to keep from crying—it didn’t work.  I looked back at him.

“Why did you say those things Paul?” I asked, “I didn’t do anything to you—I’m only trying to help you get through this, why would you say that stuff?  And why would you say that of all things?”  He looked up and I saw a tear fall from his eye, “You know I hated that period in my life.  I knew people thought I was a slut—maybe I was,” I said and he shook his head.

“No you’re not, and you weren’t” he argued.

“Yes, maybe, but you know that’s how I feel.  You know I feel horrible about that and I wish I could do it over.  I hate that I hurt you, and I hate that I hurt Davy, and I hate that I hurt George!” I said crying, “But I was hurting too Paul…why did you say that…why?”

“I don’t know,” he said looking back down at me, “I really don’t know.  After you starting shouting that you hated me, I began to realize what I had said.  I didn’t mean any of it love; you’ve got to know that.  I was being a drunken bastard,”

“You can say that again,” I said, “But if you didn’t mean it, why would you say it?  Especially when you knew it would hurt?” I said and he cringed.

“Because I’m an asshole,” he said, “And if you leave me I won’t blame you.  I don’t deserve you—I never have, and it’s a miracle you’ve stayed with me this long…so if you can’t take me anymore, I understand,” he said another tear falling.  I shook my head.

“I’m not leaving you,” I said softly, “I wouldn’t be able to live without you.” I said and he seemed relieved, “I just can’t believe you said all that.  I feel like that wasn’t you—like someone had come and taken over.  I never thought I would ever hear you talk like that to me—you hurt me so much,”

“I know, I never thought I would either,” he said caressing my hair, “I’m so sorry sweetheart,” he said and I knew he was being honest.  “It’s no excuse, but I was feeling shitty.  That day I was talking to my lawyer, and I found out—” he stopped and looked up like he always does, “I found out that a document we signed in 1967 accounts us for another 10 years of being The Beatles.  And I asked what we could do to get out of it, and he said the only way now to officially break up the Beatles, is—”

“Is what Paul?” I asked.

“I have to sue them,” he said and I was shocked.

“Sue them?  Like sue, John, George, and Ringo?” I asked and he nodded.

“Yes, I was extremely upset and I know there is no other way—but I don’t want to do it.  So afterwards, I went out and got pissed—it was all I could think of to do.  But by the time I got home I was so angry with everything and I didn’t think talking would help.  So when you wanted to talk, I just got angry even more and wanted you to feel the way that I did,” he said, “And I’m so sorry for that, really love, you’ve got to believe me.  I didn’t mean anything that I said,”

“I know, I believe you,” I said and he seemed shocked.

“Really?” he asked and I looked at him curious.

“What?  That’s hard to believe?  Are you lying or something?” I asked and his eyes grew big as he shook his head.

“No of course not!  I just, I knew after how much I hurt you that I’m very much in the dog house, and I didn’t think you’d let me off this easy,” he said, “I deserve so much more than a simple, ‘I believe you’.  What I did was horrible,”

“Yes it was, but I’m not that mean,” I told him and he smiled.

“I know that, but what I didn’t was rotten love—I shouldn’t get off with nothing,” he said and I nodded.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t.  But I think that you’ve realized how big of a jerk you were being and knowing that you deserve more is enough,” I said and he rubbed his eye, “And I suppose I over-reacted a bit.  I know your having a tough time at work, and I have to realize that you may not always want to talk about things,” I said and he shook his head,

“I may have had a bad day, but that’s no reason to come and take it out on you.   Though I may not want to all the time when I’m angry—talking to you actually ends up making me feel better,” he said and I nodded, “So you really know how sorry I am?  Because if you don’t think so….”

“Paul I do.  I believe you, and I still love you.  I know you didn’t mean those things—and in a way I knew it when you said them…they just really hurt nevertheless, if not more so because I knew you didn’t mean them yet you shouted them at me anyway to hurt me,”

“I know and I’m sorry—I’ll say sorry for this until we die if you want.  That’s how sorry I am,” he said and I laughed a little.

“Don’t do that or I’ll get annoyed with you,” I said and he laughed as well.

“As long as you know how much I love you and how much I hurt myself by knowing how much I hurt you—and that’ll I’ll never ever do this again,” he said and I nodded.

“I do know,”

“So you still love me just the same?  No less?”

“No less, probably more if you can believe it.  I fall in love with you more and more everyday—despite the things you do,” I said and he smiled putting my hair behind my ear, “I’ll always love you—no matter what,”

“May I kiss you?” he asked me and I smiled.

“Please do,” I replied and he smiled pulling me close to him.  Like always, I melted when he kissed me—heck I melt when he touches or even looks at me, even to this day.  I was glad now that my mom had taken Mary and everyone with them—I just wanted to be with Paul alone.  He pushed me up against the counter and kissed me deep—running his hands down my sides.  I shivered as he left my mouth and kissed my neck, stopping and just hugging me.

“I love you so much,” he said then looked back up at me.  I kissed him again.

“Me too,” I said and he smiled, “Are you hungry?”

“Famished actually,” he said smiling and kissing me again.

“What do you want?” I asked him and he shrugged still holding onto me.

“I don’t care, anything you make is great,” he smiled.

“I was just going to have a bagel and yogurt,” I said and I smiled, “And I know you would rather have something else,” he laughed.

“Only because I’m a man, and that won’t fill me,” I laughed.

“I’ll make eggs and stuff then,” I said and he smiled.

“Hey what’s that thing you guys do here?” he asked moving from me so I could move around in the kitchen.  He sat at the little island so he could watch and talk to me.

“What on earth are you talking about?  Here as in my house?  You guys as in my family?” I asked confused and he laughed.

“Sorry, I’m very jumbled up right now,” he said and I smiled knowing why.  I walked over a few steps and leaned over the counter to kiss him, “I really am sorry, baby,” he said again.

“Paul stop it, it’s alright,” I said.

“No it’s not, but I’ll stop if you want,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said kissing him again, “And it is alright,” I said and he smiled, “Now what did you mean now?” I asked referring to the question again.  He laughed.

“I meant the thing you American’s do here in America,” he said and I was still confused.

“What thing?”

“Don’t you have like breakfast egg sandwiches or something?”  He asked and I smiled remembering that they don’t do that in England.  In all reality, English food was kind of blah for the most part.

“Do you want your eggs and bacon in the bagel?” I asked him and he smiled.

“Yes please, I’d like to try that,”

“What if you don’t like it?” I asked getting out the frying pan and eggs.

“Do you like it?” he asked me and I nodded, “Then there’s no way I wouldn’t like it. If you like it then it must be good, considering how picky you are,”

“Ha-ha,” I kidded him with a smile.  I made the eggs and bacon and ended up doing a sandwich for myself.  I gave Paul his and sat next to him at the island.

“Hey I like this,” he said nodding as he swallowed his first bite.

“Well good,” I said.  We finished out breakfast and I rinsed off the dishes, “Is it okay that you are here?” I asked suddenly.

“Who bloody cares?  Even if it’s not, I’m staying,” he said and I looked at him.

“Paul, you know I hate it when you do things like that,” I said and he laughed.

“Well, I’d rather be with me girl instead of doing Beatle shit,” he said, “I don’t care about that stuff when I’m with you—whether I’ve got appointments or not.  If you’re sick one day and we have to have a record done the same day.  Screw the record, I’m staying home with you,” he said coming behind me and kissing the back of my neck.  I turned around to face him.

“I know and I’ve always wished you wouldn’t, I don’t like getting you in trouble,” I said and he laughed.

“Who’s going to yell at me now?  And even if there is someone, I don’t care.  You are my priority—you and Mary.  You both are me life.  When I’m with you two, I’m James Paul McCartney, Beatle Paul doesn’t even exist as far as I’m concerned,”

“I love you,” I said and kissed him.  I pulled away and I slowly led him upstairs.  He smiled all the way up because he knew what was coming and I thought he looked so adorable.  Normally I didn’t like the whole scruffy thing because it tickled my skin when he kissed me, but right now I didn’t care.  I missed him and I was so happy things were okay.  Paul and I ended up making love and afterwards, strangely enough, Paul started laughing.  I looked up at him.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked, “You’ve never reacted this way before,”

“No it’s not that really, it’s just,” he paused, “Do you ever feel like were sinning when we do it here?” he asked looking down at me.

“Here as in my house?” I asked, “I thought you liked that,” I said and he smiled shyly.

“Oh I do, but I mean, besides feeling a bit erotic doing it in your childhood bed, I also feel like I’m dirtying it,” he said and I looked at him confused.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I mean I know you’ve—” he stopped and scrunched his nose, “done with Davy in here and all but---oh I don’t like that,” he said.

“Paul stop it, that was long time ago,” I said, “And if you want to get into that, you’ve done it with Jane and many others in yours,” I said and he nodded.

“I know, I know.  I wished I hadn’t, and it didn’t mean anything,” he said, “But anyway, I just feel weird having sex in little innocent Olivia’s pink bedroom,” he said and I laughed.

“Hey don’t make fun of my bedroom,” I said and he smiled.

“I like it, it’s cute, but, do you know what I mean?” he asked, “You used to sleep in here when you were just a little girl—nothing dirty whatsoever in your mind, and now you are having sex in it,”

“Yes, well, I can’t be five forever,” I said and he laughed.

“Thank God for that, but really, do you know what I’m saying?”

“I do, but I thought that’s why you liked it,”

“It is, but at the same time I feel like I’m ruining poor little Olivia,” he said and I shook my head, lifting it to kiss him.

“Well, you aren’t ruining poor little Olivia,” I said, “You ruined her five years ago,”

“Whatever, I didn’t christen you—Davy did,” he said scrunching his nose again.

“Not to me,” I said kissing him, “It wasn’t real with Davy, and we definitely didn’t do anything erotic, so I consider you my first,”

“Really?” he asked smiling and I nodded.

“Yes really.  I mean, you’re the one that I really did it with true feelings of love, therefore it seemed totally different to me, and a first,”

“I’m glad you think that way,” he said kissing me, “I thought I was weird for thinking that,” he laughed.

“You think that?” I asked.

“Well sure, I’ve told you this haven’t I?” he asked and I shook my head.

“I don’t think so,”

“Well, I do.  Sex was always the same to me because I never really cared—just did it for fun.  But you—wait, I’ve told you this!” he said stopping and I laughed, “You just want me to say it again,”

“So, maybe I do,” I said running my hands through his hair and he rolled his eyes.

“You bugger,” he said kissing me, “Anyway, I’ve told you that’s why I was so bloody nervous when we first did it.  Because before we even started, it was different then what I knew.  Because I actually cared, and I wanted everything to be perfect.  I wasn’t sure if you’re supposed to do it different when you’re in love or if it’s just the same and you just feel different,” he said and I smiled, “So it felt like the first time to me too—because you were the first one I ever loved and you’ll be the last,”

“You’re so cute,” I said kissing his nose and he laughed.

“I try,”

“You don’t have to,” I said and he smiled kissing me again.  Things heated up once more and the rest of the day was kinda like that.  Paul and I just stayed in bed, being with each other.  The rest of my family returned home around 4ish.  Paul and I had drifted off to sleep and I woke up with the noise, shaking Paul slightly, “Paul, wake up,” I said and he moved lightly.

“Did you say wake up?” he asked stretching.  I nodded.

“Yeah, I think the rest of my family is home,” I said and he opened his eyes.

“What time is it?” he asked looking at the clock.

“Four o’clock,” I said and he nodded.

“I’m hungry, are you hungry?” he asked laughing.

“A little.  Do you want to go downstairs?”

“Sure,” he said and I began to move off him when he stopped me.  I turned back to him, covering myself with the sheet.

“Does everyone know about what happened?” he asked.  I shook my head.

“No, just mom.  Phil and Fig think you had to work,” I said and he smiled, pulling me down to kiss me.

“Thank you for not telling them all,” he said and I laughed.

“I wouldn’t have anyway—it’s not their business,” I said, “Now come on let’s go downstairs,”

“Alright,” he replied.  We both got dressed and I made Paul shave quickly before going down.  He said he was surprised I hadn’t said anything earlier, and obliged.  We made our way downstairs, Paul holding onto my hand.

“Hey, he’s here!”  Phil said seeing us.  Paul smiled and shook Phil’s hand.

“Yeah, I was able to get away for a bit,” he said.  Over the years Paul and Phil had thankfully grown closer—in the beginning I don’t think neither of them really cared for each other.

“Paul?  Is that Paul?” I heard my mom say as she rounded the corner.  She smiled at us seeing our hands clutched to one another.

“Yeah, it’s me Car—mum,” he said, “Cor I always forget that, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t worry about it, come on in here guys,” she said and we all followed her into the living room.  Fig looked up and his face brightened.

“Paul!” he said jumping up and running up the hug him.  He laughed as he did so, “I’m so happy you are here!  Now we can play like last time!” he said and Paul laughed.

“How bout a bit later Fig,” I said and he nodded.

“Okay,” he said leaving us and going back to his seat and watching TV.  Anita made her way into the living room and stopped suddenly as she saw Paul.

“Well, I heard commotion out here, wondered what was going on,” she said.

“Paul’s here!” Fig shouted abruptly.

“’Ello there, I’m Paul,” he said to her extending her hand.  She smiled and shook it.

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she kidded.

“Paul, this is my fiancée Anita,” Phil said.  Paul raised his eyebrow as we sat down on the couch.  He leaned forward and picked up Mary, sitting her on his lap.

“Fiancée aye?” he asked kissing Mary atop the head.

“Yep,” Phil said kissing her as they did when they told me.

“You’re daughter is lovely—I was telling Olivia that too,” Anita said to Paul and he smiled.

“That’s because she takes after her mum,” he replied and I smiled.

“Oh really?  She said she takes after you!” Anita said and we all laughed.

“Well, I think she’s got a few of me dominant features, but overall I think she looks like her mum,”

“Anyone hungry?  Or do we want to wait?” My mom asked from the kitchen.

“I’m hungry!” Fig yelled. 

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Phil said, “I could go either way,”

“Paul what about you?” my mom asked.  Paul nodded.

“Oh, I suppose I could eat,” he said and I laughed silently knowing that he was actually quite hungry.  We chatted a bit more and ate dinner.  It was a good night and again, I was so glad things with Paul and I were back to normal.  Nothing quite to this extent ever happened again, but that’s not to say that the year got any better.  Paul was quite devastated about having to sue the others and was still unsure if he wanted to go through with it.  Our album was going along quite well, and we were actually just working on the cover and the release date.  Paul and I stayed only a few more days, before I convinced Paul that he should probably get back.  He didn’t want to of course, and neither did I.  It wasn’t the going home that we didn’t like; it was what we had to go back to that bothered us.  Paul was just counting the days before it could finally be resolved and it would be all over.