Too Much Rain, Chapter 137
Jul. 24th, 2016 03:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yes_2dayOkay, friends. Here I am again (with fingers crossed) posting the next chapter. It is a chapter of vignettes, some very short, some fairly long. It explores the ramifications of AU John and Paul's brave new life.
Hope you enjoy.
Remember: THIS IS FICTIONAL in its entirety.
Chapter 137
John and Paul were going to Mary’s for dinner. They had spent the last few weeks working in the studio on their new songs. In the evenings they had enjoyed quiet hours where they read books, or watched movies on the DVD player. As the days had sailed by, John kept pinching himself because he found it hard to believe that his life had finally settled into the comfortable routine that he wanted: Paul to himself, 24 hours a day, no one to compete for attention with, and that ring safely around the blasted man’s finger! He couldn’t have been happier. As a result, he had been very nurturing, making meals and fussing over Paul’s light eating habits and long working hours. Paul, (although perhaps not ready to admit it consciously), was enjoying all the fussing. John’s attentions were actually more solicitous even than Linda’s! He was beginning to feel pretty good about this new commitment he’d made. If it weren’t for that nagging feeling in the back of his head... the fear of the other shoe dropping...
Anyway, Mary had invited them over for dinner, and they were both looking forward to seeing Arthur, who had celebrated his first birthday a few days earlier at a big family party at Cavendish. It seemed every time John and Paul saw Arthur, he’d grown much bigger. Arthur was now trying to walk, and every day there were significant changes in his physical and mental abilities.
This dinner was in advance of the second anniversary of Linda’s death, and Mary had felt the need to have her dad nearby - well, her dad and John. She smiled as she thought of the two of them. They were really too adorable, with their silly bickering followed soon after by sentimental goo-goo eyes. Mary chuckled at her own thoughts as she set the table. Somehow she could never see her father in a sexual way with her mother, but she could see his sexiness vis a vis John. She supposed she would need psychological help later on, but she couldn’t help having a huge soft spot for their love story. She knew Stella felt the same way. The last time they had gossiped about it, Stella had said (and reduced the two women to helpless giggles afterwards), “Daddy better leave us a whole lot of money to pay for all the therapy...”
Paul and John arrived through the back door. Alistair always moved his car out of the mews when the two superstars were coming over, so they could have some privacy. After they both hugged Mary, who met them there, John followed Mary into the kitchen, and Paul headed for the sitting room where Arthur was to be found under the supervision of his father. Mary was very happy to see John. She had meant to be further along in preparing the salad but Arthur had continually dragged her away. She pointed at the kitchen island, where a marble cutting board sat full of salad vegetables to be cut and arranged. John headed straight for it. He immediately picked up the knife and began to chop. A moment later, Mary plopped a glass of red wine next to him, and the two exchanged a loving smile.
*****
“He’s been trying to walk for over a week now,” Alistair said to Paul as they watched Arthur making movements from a sitting position that resembled those of a person trying to stand up. “He hasn’t quite got the idea yet.”
“It’s funny,” Paul said knowingly, “they are struggling one minute and then the next they just stand up and start walking. Each time I’ve seen it in each of my children I’ve been amazed. It’s like a miracle!”
“So, do you want the whole bell pepper slivered, or only half?” John asked, the knife hovering over the end of a red bell pepper.
Mary looked over idly to see John’s hands holding the pepper. “The whole thing.” She thought to herself as she rinsed some kitchen implements - that’s a very unusual and attractive ring...
Paul had helped Arthur stand up by holding on to each of his little arms, and pulling a little until Arthur was wobbling on his feet, which couldn’t quite flatten on the floor. But Arthur’s face was filled with absolute delight and pride - look what I can do! Paul and Alistair chuckled, a combination of affection and pride in their faces.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mary announced from the sitting room door. Paul carried the baby into the dining room where Mary had set up a high chair, with an array of finely cut vegetables laid out on the high chair’s tray. Arthur kicked his legs in excitement as Paul tried to insert him into the seat. Mary watched her father’s exertions with amusement and affection, and then turned away for a moment. But then she froze and turned back. Her father was already sitting down in his chair, and she couldn’t see his hands anymore. She shook her head back and forth, telling herself she was going barmy, and then took her seat at the head of the table.
John and Paul were across from each other along the sides of the table, and Alistair and Mary were at either end of the table. Arthur’s high chair was situated between Mary and Paul. Everyone began to eat. It wasn’t long before Mary (who made a point of looking) got a good look at Paul’s left ring finger, and her earlier suspicion was confirmed. She said nothing. Yet. She wanted to get her father alone to quiz him about it. But she was very hopeful that he and John had made their future intentions clear to each other. This hope lit up her face, and she looked especially angelic that night.
Later that evening, Mary went upstairs to put Arthur to bed. She had asked her father to join her, and he came up a few moments later. They each gave Arthur a cuddle and a kiss, and then sat in the nursery, the lights off, speaking softly to each other as Arthur settled and fell off to sleep.
“I hope John isn’t downstairs being too ironic for Alistair,” Paul whispered to his daughter. “Alistair is very sweet, but not very spicy.”
Mary chuckled softly. “I know. When our family is gathering, have you ever noticed how his eyes look huge? He can’t believe what he sees and hears!”
Father and daughter exchanged amused glances. “I didn’t give you the most conventional childhood,” he finally said softly, with regret. “I dragged you all over the world with what amounted to a hippie commune, drugs included.”
“You didn’t do the drugs in front of us kids. We never saw it.” Mary was very loyal to her parents, and would hear no criticism of their child-rearing abilities.
Paul was relieved to hear her say that. He and Linda had been blindly naïve and stupid about drugs and other responsible parental things - like vaccinations and letting toddlers ramble around naked. He and Linda had seen it as a kind of back-to-nature, very innocent thing. But he knew more about the evils of the world now, and he knew if he had to raise a child now, he would do it a lot differently.
After the quiet had descended upon them for a few minutes, father and daughter - in separate rocking chairs - enjoyed the silence as they rocked back and forth. Finally, Mary said gently, “That’s a new ring you’re wearing. Mum’s rings are gone.”
Paul had forgotten all about the rings. In fact, when Mary spoke he looked at his hand as if he were seeing it for the first time. He looked up at her guiltily. “Do you mind? I took them off.”
Mary was heartbroken by her father’s expression - so torn, so fearful of causing pain, so unsure... “Daddy, it’s been two years. Mummy wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve her forever. That was so not what Mum was about.”
Paul’s expression relaxed somewhat, and he rocked quietly for a few more seconds until Mary spoke again.
“John has an identical ring. I noticed while we were in the kitchen.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.
Paul looked very sheepish, and stared at his hands like a guilty little boy as he spoke. “He gave this ring to me. So I gave him mum’s rings. He’s wearing them on a chain around his neck.”
Mary felt tears in the back of her eyes. “That’s very touching,” she said, simply. Still, her father wouldn’t meet her eyes. She supposed he was very torn about the whole subject. She asked softly, “Do the rings represent a pledge of some kind?”
Paul looked up, alarmed. Mary thought he looked just like a deer caught in the headlights. He said, “We didn’t really say any words.” He looked down at the ring on his fingers. He pulled off the ring and handed it to Mary. “But read the inscription.”
Mary, touched by her father’s shyness and trust, looked into the interior of the ring band. It was hard to see, because it was dark in the nursery with only one shaded light and a nightlight on. But she barely made out the word ‘Always.’ She looked up and smiled warmly at her dad. “This is very sweet,” she said, handing the ring back. “Do you consider it to be like a wedding ring?”
“Wedding ring!?” Paul’s response was a bit loud, but he quickly shushed himself because of the sleeping baby. He added, “No, I don’t think it’s like we’re married, although maybe John feels that way...” Paul stopped to think about this thorny issue. Mary had good, commonsense opinions. Maybe she would have something helpful to say to him. “I guess I struggle with the idea of ‘marriage’ between two men. I don’t have a problem with the word ‘commitment’, though. Not sure what the difference is. Do you think there is a difference?”
Mary could see her father was a little embarrassed. Her heart tugged. She loved the man so much. He tried to be so strong and practical and in charge, but the little boy in him kept popping out at moments of emotional intimacy. She smiled and said, “Daddy, you live with John. I’m assuming you don’t have other lovers. You couldn’t possibly live without him. I guess it doesn’t matter if you call it a ‘marriage’ or a ‘commitment’ - it’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”
Paul listened to Mary, and knew that she was saying it like it was. In truth, Paul had already admitted to himself that this ‘commitment’ he made was very like a ‘marriage.’ He had just been reluctant to say so to Linda’s daughter. But Linda’s daughter - true to her mother’s spirit - was letting him know she understood and approved of his decision to move forward with John, and only with John. Paul sighed and leaned back in the rocking chair, letting it move back and forth a few more strokes, and then said, “John is so much happier since the ring exchange. He seems to feel so much more secure.”
“Do you remember what you whispered to me as you were walking me down the aisle as I married Alistair?” Mary asked.
Paul thought back, and then remembered. He smiled. “Yes, I do,” he said, and exchanged another knowing smile with his daughter. Being married is about making each other feel safe enough so you can both fly...
“Well, consider this my way of telling you the same thing back again.” Mary grinned very pertly.
Her father chuckled softly. “I think we should go down and save Alistair from John’s alternative universe,” he joked. Mary held her giggles back until they had left the nursery and were tripping down the stairs.
“Stella! You’ll never guess!” Mary’s voice was breathless as she emoted into her cell phone.
“Well tell me what it is then, since I’ll never guess,” Stella responded in a kind of smartass manner.
“So Daddy and John were over for dinner last night, and I just happened to notice that they were wearing identical rings on their ring fingers!”
“No shit!” Stella yelled into her phone. “For real?”
“Yes! Very stylish rings at that - yin and yang symbols on top, and ‘Always’ in script engraved inside.”
“No way! How corny!” Stella cried.
“It is so cute. It is really very very cute,” Mary corrected, but her voice couldn’t hide her amusement.
“Did you say anything?” Stella’s voice was filled with intense interest.
“I spoke to Daddy about it. He was a little sheepish, but he admitted that he and John had made a commitment of some kind,” Mary gossiped.
“Well, d’uh,” Stella said indignantly. “The whole frickin’ world knows they’re committed to each other. It’s about time that they acknowledged it themselves.”
Mary laughed at Stella’s dramatics, but wasn’t sure she agreed with her sister. “Do you really think that’s true? That the ‘whole world’ knows about it?”
Stella said, “Well, I exaggerated to make a point. I mean, all of the family and all of our friends know. And I’m pretty sure all of their music business friends and associates have figured it out if they don’t know outright. And I would be surprised if most of their fans haven’t got a notion. I mean, especially since Mum’s death it’s pretty obvious.”
Mary sighed. She felt protective of her father and John, as if on her mother’s behalf, and she hoped there wasn’t a world of hurt ahead of them. “I suppose most people will be willing to go along with the ‘secret’ as long as the details aren’t rubbed in their faces,” Mary said slowly.
“I never thought of that,” Stella said. “But I suppose you’re right. But how sad if they have to keep pretending for the rest of their lives.” Stella’s voice had become subdued. “It must be painful to have to hide your feelings all the time.”
“Well, Daddy is used to holding back his feelings. But John...” Mary’s voice had trickled off.
“I know what you mean,” Stella responded. “Poor John. I think it must hurt him the most.”
“So, how is married life treating you?” Fiona joked cheerfully, as John plopped down with abandon on her sofa.
John swung one leg extravagantly over the other and chirped back in veddy veddy posh tones, “Very well, thank you.”
Fiona grinned at her patient. What a character! “Last week we left off discussing this new détente you have reached with Paul. How’s it coming along - seriously, now.”
John’s arm was stretched out over the back of the sofa, and his fingers were idly playing with the ribbing on the top of the cushion. He watched his fingers for a moment - especially the one wearing the ring - and then turned back to Fiona. “We’re like an old married couple, for sure,” he said easily. “I’m still overly emotional and needy, and Paul’s still cheerful and energetic and holding back his doubts and fears. We haven’t changed that much. My feelings about how we interact have changed, though.”
“How so?”
“I guess I’m not so desperate now. I suppose it’s time I gave up that constant fear of abandonment. It’s kind of ridiculous really, when you consider all the years Paul has been loyal to me, you’d think I’d have cottoned to the realization sooner.”
John was in a particularly thoughtful mood today, and Fiona was glad. He always did his best work when he was in this particular mood. “How does it affect Paul?”
“Hmmm?” John asked, confused.
“You being at ease in your relationship now - how has that affected Paul?”
“I see what you mean. I guess he’s not walking on eggshells as much these days. You know - this brings up a thought I had the other day.”
“What’s that?” Fiona asked, leaning forwards a little to encourage him.
“It occurred to me that Paul might have a fear of abandonment too. You know, it just popped into my head while I was thinking of all that Stu Sutcliffe and Yoko stuff: maybe Paul is also insecure about people staying with him, but just does a much better job of hiding it than I do. After all, he lost his mother when he was young, too.”
Fiona considered John’s comment. She agreed with him. She had figured that out about Paul back in the days when he’d come in to see her for a while. Strange that John had never figured it out before, but then John was kind of a me-thinker. “I think that is a very interesting insight, John,” Fiona said.
“I mean, this way of looking at it makes me feel very bad about the way I’ve treated him over the years. I always thought he was so strong and stable, and emotionally capable of handling all kinds of emotional trauma. I also believed he was a bit of a loner - independent and wanting time to himself. I resented that about him, but now I wonder if that was all a way to protect himself from being hurt.”
“How so?” Fiona asked.
“Well, if he acts like he’s got it all together, and no one can touch him, no one will know how scared he is, or how lonely he is. You know? Maybe he feared trusting people - like I do - in case they got too close to him, and then abandoned him.”
“Like the times you set him aside to concentrate on Stu, and on Yoko?” Fiona asked.
John nodded, his expression one of sagacity. “Yeah, like that.” John shook his head. “I can’t quite believe that’s true, because my image of him is of someone so self-sufficient... but if I’m right about this, then I can begin to understand how badly I hurt him so many times. I couldn’t figure out why he was so fixated on that whole Stu thing, but this theory would explain it.”
“I had a similar thought, although a bit different,” Fiona commented.
“Oh, what’s that?” Now John leaned forward, his languid pose a thing of the past. He was fully engaged in the conversation now.
“I had wondered if the reason he became so fearful of being abandoned was because of what happened with Stu. In other words, your treatment of him at that time in his life - he was a teenager, right? - Maybe that is what caused him to lose trust in people he cared about.” Fiona realized this was a heavy thought - it might hurt John badly. But he needed to realize how badly he damaged Paul before he could give Paul the reassurance he so obviously needed.
John was silent after Fiona finished speaking. He was staring at the floor, deep in thought. He said, “I thought maybe it was losing his mother.” His voice was a little petulant, but also a little worried.
Fiona said, “The take I have on Paul is that he was a very self-confident kid, scarred a little by the teasing he got about his weight when he was young, but he knew he was adored by both of his parents and his large family, and so when his mother died, he had his father and his aunties and most especially you. I wonder sometimes about how he bonded to you so quickly, when he isn’t one to bond to others quickly. I wonder if he was thinking he could trust you to adore him, just like his whole family and his friends did.”
John was blinking, showing his confusion. “Are you saying that when I lost interest and went off with Stu it was his first abandonment, not his second?” John didn’t want this to be true.
“That is what I think. I feel certain Paul was very sure of his mother’s love. He knew she would not leave him voluntarily, and he blamed the cancer for her death, not her. He was well adjusted. But I think he was clinging to you emotionally, John, at a very vulnerable time in his life, and when you suddenly directed your interest elsewhere, this was his first big heartbreak.”
“Wow,” John said, his eyes wide open. “I would never have come to that conclusion.”
“Why not?” Fiona asked, her voice open and inviting.
“Well, because...” John ran out of words. He was searching his brain madly for the right ones, but they wouldn’t come. It occurred to John that maybe the reason they wouldn’t come was that he had no argument against Fiona’s presentation of the facts. He cleared his throat as a delaying tactic, but finally said, “I guess because I’m a self-centered son of a bitch and it never occurred to me because, if it did occur to me, I would feel terribly guilty about what I did.”
“It’s food for thought, anyway,” Fiona said.
John quickly changed the subject, uncomfortable all of a sudden with what the conversation had reflected of his behavior. “Oh, I almost forgot - next week is the second anniversary of Linda’s death. I wanted to ask your advice. Should I bring the subject up with Paul, and ask him what he wants to do about it? Or should I say nothing, and let him bring it up with me?” John sincerely wanted advice, because he had no clue what was the better thing to do.
Fiona considered the question and then offered, “I would wait until the day before, and if Paul hasn’t brought it up with you, then I would bring it up. He might be concerned that he would hurt your feelings if he brought it up, and if that is the case it would be good if you allayed those fears by letting him know that you are missing Linda too.”
“That’s good advice,” John admitted. “Normally I would ask Mary what to do, but since Linda was her mother, I didn’t want to walk into that mare’s nest, either.”
Fiona had been about to ask who Mary was, but John had then identified her as Linda’s daughter. Interesting. Fiona hadn’t given much thought to John’s relationships with Paul’s children. She knew that Paul had close, loving and strong relationships with John’s two sons, but hadn’t dwelt too much on Paul’s four children. “You and Mary are close?” Fiona asked.
John smiled easily, “She’s the sunshine of my life. She is like a perfect mix between her father and her mother - of their sweet and gentle and thoughtful sides, and she looks so much like Paul. I think of her as a daughter, and I think she thinks of me as her replacement mother!” John laughed. “I mean, we talk about her baby, her marriage, my relationship with Paul, we shop and cook together - these are all kind of mother-daughter activities. She was very close to her mother, so I think she needed someone to fill part of the hole Linda’s death left.”
“It’s great that you have a good relationship with her. What about the other three?” Fiona asked.
“Stella’s personality is also a mix of her mother and father - the stronger, more direct and pushy aspects of them. She and I have a strong friendship. I think I am like a kind of uncle to her - but the kind of uncle who is immature, and who she bosses around. We spark off each other, and she’s no one’s fool. Love her.”
“I can’t think why we haven’t spoken of this subject in so long,” Fiona said.
“Probably because the kids haven’t been a problem between Paul and me, or in my life. They have been a positive. James, Paul’s son, is very shy and introverted, but he has definite - even stubborn - opinions. He doesn’t always follow the jokes, though. I sometimes wonder if he’s all there. Maybe he has constructed a James-land, like Paul has his Paul-land, I don’t know. But we enjoy each other’s company.”
“And the fourth one? Another daughter, right?”
“Yeah, the eldest. She’s actually Linda’s daughter from her first marriage, but Paul adopted her when she was young. Heather is also shy and introverted. I think Heather and James take after their mother, personality wise, although they lack her chutzpah and her nurturing nature. Stella got Linda’s chutzpah, and Mary got her nurturing nature. I think Heather and James inherited more of her less positive traits, like her insecurity.”
“You’ve given it a lot of thought I see,” Fiona commented. “I recall that Heather was the one who took your relationship with her father the hardest. Has she accepted it since?”
“Yes, she’s accepted it - but in a less than fully honest way I think. She still misses her mother deeply, and Paul treats her like she is a fragile person, which in truth she is. He is very gentle and patient with her. She is the only one of the four whom I can’t really joke with or tease; she takes it literally, can’t respond in kind, and is easily hurt. She has none of those tough Irish McCartney genes. So I treat her gently, too, and I don’t play word games with her or challenge her with bold ideas.”
Fiona smiled and asked, “Does she see you as a father figure?”
“I don’t think so. I think she sees me as a kind of uncle or close family friend. I don’t think she’ll ever think of me as a parent.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“I don’t think she allows herself to think about Paul and me - I mean, that we sleep together. I think she just can’t fathom that, and anyway it interferes with her vision of her mother and father - she of all the kids clings to that childhood image of Paul and Linda, the hippie parents. Of course, she was the one who experienced it the most, since she was so much older than the others.”
“I see that,” Fiona admitted. “But how will she react to Paul taking off his wedding rings and wearing yours instead?”
John was brought up short. He was stumped. “I never thought of that.”
“It would probably be a good idea if you and Paul discussed how you are going to break this information to your respective children.”
“Mary and Stella know already. Mary saw the rings when we were at dinner at her house last night, and this morning she called Stella and told her, so of course Stella immediately called me and gave me grief about it.” John chuckled with the memory.
“Grief?” Fiona asked.
“Yeah, she was ragging at me for running off and eloping with her father without asking her permission. She was also ragging at me for denying her and Mary a big wedding to plan. She’s a total crack up.”
Both John and Fiona were chuckling now.
While John was at his therapist, Stella had decided to go visit her father at his office, and invite him out to lunch. She wanted to talk to him about the whole John thing, because she felt he needed some back stiffening along with some bracing reassurance. Paul had been delighted when his youngest daughter showed up. He was so immensely proud of her success, and enjoyed talking to her about her business. She had a strong head for business and finance, and in that way the two of them were matched. They went to an Italian café that they both liked, and settled in with a crisp pinot grigio.
“I called John this morning and read him the riot act,” Stella said archly, one eyebrow hovering upwards of her eye.
Paul chuckled. “So I heard.”
“I can’t believe you two went off and basically got married and then didn’t even tell us when you got back! How could you do that to us?” Stella wasn’t really upset. She was just giving her father grief, as she had done to John earlier on the phone.
“We didn’t get married, baby,” Paul said.
“Well what do you call it then? You’re wearing each other’s rings, you’re living together, there’s no one else in your lives - is there? Or is there?” This last phrase was accentuated with a lower, menacing tone. She was glaring at her father, about to eat him alive if he was cheating on John.
Paul saw the murder in her eyes and smiled affectionately. “I don’t like to talk about such things with my children generally, but no, there is no one else but John.”
Stella lightened up immediately and said, “Just as it should be. You ought to know that Mary and I will consider it cheating if either of you go off and play with someone else.”
“Stella, you go too far!” Paul’s expression and tone were playful, not upset. “I don’t dictate to you about who you sleep with.”
“But I’m not living with someone, and you are. I often thought you were living pretty high on the hog what with mum and John at your beck and call. I hope you haven’t got any ideas in your head that you are entitled to that sort of thing going forward.” Stella was using her wine glass as a kind of emphasis prop. Paul was watching the wine sloshing up and down the glass with worried fascination. How long could she keep it up without spilling?
Paul roused himself from his ruminations about potential wine spillage and said dryly, “I take your point, and while I don’t agree with how you depicted what it was like for me when your mother was alive, I can agree with you that the triangle thing was very difficult for all of us at times, and it wasn’t a first choice for any of us. It was just the only option that worked at least 75% for each of us.”
Stella cocked her side to the head. This was interesting. She had never really discussed this topic with him before, not wanting to pry into her mother’s relationship with her father. “You make it sound like you didn’t consider having them both in your life to be ideal.” Her voice was not judgmental this time. It expressed Stella’s pure interest instead.
“It wasn’t. Especially when you kids were young. It was agony for me to be away from the family. And then it hurt like hell to leave John alone when I went back to you all.”
“Is that why John moved in with us?”
“Yes. We were all hurting too much the other way. But it wasn’t a walk in the park even so, Stella. It isn’t a choice I would have made if I had any other options. I’m sure your mother and John felt the same way about it.”
“I haven’t loved someone yet so much that I couldn’t live without him,” she commented softly.
“My solemn prayer for you is that one day you will find someone who makes you feel that way.” Paul reached over and squeezed her hand - the hand that was so like Linda’s. Beautiful long, articulate fingers with perfect nail beds. He picked her hand up, kissed it, and replaced it on the tabletop. “But let me make it clear that I want it to be one person who makes you feel that way - not two.”
Stella giggled. Her father was so dreamy and lovely. She tried to picture a man who could even half-measure up. So far no man had. She decided to get the conversation back on track. “Anyway, in my clumsy way I was trying to let you know that Mary and I love you and John, and I mean that we love you and John as a couple. We don’t want you to feel shy or embarrassed about it with us. And I also wanted you to know that I am loyal to John just as I am to you, and so if either of you hurt the other badly you’ll have to deal with me!”
Paul laughed. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t lie awake all night in a cold sweat worrying about it?”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Stella told her father. “You don’t spend a second worrying about me coming after you. You know in the end I will melt and won’t be able to stay mad at you. But I do have something else I wanted to talk about with you.”
Paul took a deep, ostentatious breath, to show his daughter that he was preparing for the next onslaught.
“Mary and I were talking about how the whole thing with you and John is kind of an open secret: a badly kept, widely known, open secret. But we suddenly realized that most of the world will leave you moreorless alone so long as you don’t go public with it. We were worried that if you did go public, it would be a nightmare. Do you think that’s accurate?”
Paul had been subconsciously nodding his head, ever so slightly, as Stella had been speaking. He said, “Yes, I think that is a very accurate way of putting it. Of course, there are the social activists always criticizing us for not being public about it, and there are others who basically have their heads in the sand and don’t want to know about it and will get upset if you talk about it, and then there is everyone else in the middle who either don't care, or don’t want to hear about it, but once they do hear about it, will eventually get used to it. That’s how I see it, anyway.”
Stella paused. “And what about John? What does he think about it?”
Paul looked up, a questioning look in his eyes. He allowed his eyebrows to ask for further elucidation.
“Mary and I were thinking that this whole living a lie thing must be far more hurtful to John than it is for you. He isn't good at hiding his feelings.”
Paul’s eyes flickered a bit, but he didn’t look away from Stella’s intense stare. “It isn’t so clear to me,” Paul finally said. “John has always been one to talk about letting things all hang out, but he hates the backlash when he does - much more than I do. It’s his magical thinking. He thinks if he sits in bags in the park that everyone will think he is amazing - a genius! But when they all laugh at him and call him crazy, he gets enraged and is very hurt. So, I guess I’m saying that John may think he wants the world to know, but the truth is that I would be able to handle a negative reaction far better than he would. For this reason, I feel as though I have to protect him from that happening.”
Stella sat back respectfully in her chair and stared at her father. He was, of course, correct. And it occurred to her not for the first time that he knew John Lennon very well.
Hope you enjoy.
Remember: THIS IS FICTIONAL in its entirety.
Chapter 137
Cavendish
A Few Weeks Later
April 2000
A Few Weeks Later
April 2000
John and Paul were going to Mary’s for dinner. They had spent the last few weeks working in the studio on their new songs. In the evenings they had enjoyed quiet hours where they read books, or watched movies on the DVD player. As the days had sailed by, John kept pinching himself because he found it hard to believe that his life had finally settled into the comfortable routine that he wanted: Paul to himself, 24 hours a day, no one to compete for attention with, and that ring safely around the blasted man’s finger! He couldn’t have been happier. As a result, he had been very nurturing, making meals and fussing over Paul’s light eating habits and long working hours. Paul, (although perhaps not ready to admit it consciously), was enjoying all the fussing. John’s attentions were actually more solicitous even than Linda’s! He was beginning to feel pretty good about this new commitment he’d made. If it weren’t for that nagging feeling in the back of his head... the fear of the other shoe dropping...
Anyway, Mary had invited them over for dinner, and they were both looking forward to seeing Arthur, who had celebrated his first birthday a few days earlier at a big family party at Cavendish. It seemed every time John and Paul saw Arthur, he’d grown much bigger. Arthur was now trying to walk, and every day there were significant changes in his physical and mental abilities.
This dinner was in advance of the second anniversary of Linda’s death, and Mary had felt the need to have her dad nearby - well, her dad and John. She smiled as she thought of the two of them. They were really too adorable, with their silly bickering followed soon after by sentimental goo-goo eyes. Mary chuckled at her own thoughts as she set the table. Somehow she could never see her father in a sexual way with her mother, but she could see his sexiness vis a vis John. She supposed she would need psychological help later on, but she couldn’t help having a huge soft spot for their love story. She knew Stella felt the same way. The last time they had gossiped about it, Stella had said (and reduced the two women to helpless giggles afterwards), “Daddy better leave us a whole lot of money to pay for all the therapy...”
Paul and John arrived through the back door. Alistair always moved his car out of the mews when the two superstars were coming over, so they could have some privacy. After they both hugged Mary, who met them there, John followed Mary into the kitchen, and Paul headed for the sitting room where Arthur was to be found under the supervision of his father. Mary was very happy to see John. She had meant to be further along in preparing the salad but Arthur had continually dragged her away. She pointed at the kitchen island, where a marble cutting board sat full of salad vegetables to be cut and arranged. John headed straight for it. He immediately picked up the knife and began to chop. A moment later, Mary plopped a glass of red wine next to him, and the two exchanged a loving smile.
*****
“It’s funny,” Paul said knowingly, “they are struggling one minute and then the next they just stand up and start walking. Each time I’ve seen it in each of my children I’ve been amazed. It’s like a miracle!”
*****
“So, do you want the whole bell pepper slivered, or only half?” John asked, the knife hovering over the end of a red bell pepper.
Mary looked over idly to see John’s hands holding the pepper. “The whole thing.” She thought to herself as she rinsed some kitchen implements - that’s a very unusual and attractive ring...
*****
Paul had helped Arthur stand up by holding on to each of his little arms, and pulling a little until Arthur was wobbling on his feet, which couldn’t quite flatten on the floor. But Arthur’s face was filled with absolute delight and pride - look what I can do! Paul and Alistair chuckled, a combination of affection and pride in their faces.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mary announced from the sitting room door. Paul carried the baby into the dining room where Mary had set up a high chair, with an array of finely cut vegetables laid out on the high chair’s tray. Arthur kicked his legs in excitement as Paul tried to insert him into the seat. Mary watched her father’s exertions with amusement and affection, and then turned away for a moment. But then she froze and turned back. Her father was already sitting down in his chair, and she couldn’t see his hands anymore. She shook her head back and forth, telling herself she was going barmy, and then took her seat at the head of the table.
John and Paul were across from each other along the sides of the table, and Alistair and Mary were at either end of the table. Arthur’s high chair was situated between Mary and Paul. Everyone began to eat. It wasn’t long before Mary (who made a point of looking) got a good look at Paul’s left ring finger, and her earlier suspicion was confirmed. She said nothing. Yet. She wanted to get her father alone to quiz him about it. But she was very hopeful that he and John had made their future intentions clear to each other. This hope lit up her face, and she looked especially angelic that night.
Later that evening, Mary went upstairs to put Arthur to bed. She had asked her father to join her, and he came up a few moments later. They each gave Arthur a cuddle and a kiss, and then sat in the nursery, the lights off, speaking softly to each other as Arthur settled and fell off to sleep.
“I hope John isn’t downstairs being too ironic for Alistair,” Paul whispered to his daughter. “Alistair is very sweet, but not very spicy.”
Mary chuckled softly. “I know. When our family is gathering, have you ever noticed how his eyes look huge? He can’t believe what he sees and hears!”
Father and daughter exchanged amused glances. “I didn’t give you the most conventional childhood,” he finally said softly, with regret. “I dragged you all over the world with what amounted to a hippie commune, drugs included.”
“You didn’t do the drugs in front of us kids. We never saw it.” Mary was very loyal to her parents, and would hear no criticism of their child-rearing abilities.
Paul was relieved to hear her say that. He and Linda had been blindly naïve and stupid about drugs and other responsible parental things - like vaccinations and letting toddlers ramble around naked. He and Linda had seen it as a kind of back-to-nature, very innocent thing. But he knew more about the evils of the world now, and he knew if he had to raise a child now, he would do it a lot differently.
After the quiet had descended upon them for a few minutes, father and daughter - in separate rocking chairs - enjoyed the silence as they rocked back and forth. Finally, Mary said gently, “That’s a new ring you’re wearing. Mum’s rings are gone.”
Paul had forgotten all about the rings. In fact, when Mary spoke he looked at his hand as if he were seeing it for the first time. He looked up at her guiltily. “Do you mind? I took them off.”
Mary was heartbroken by her father’s expression - so torn, so fearful of causing pain, so unsure... “Daddy, it’s been two years. Mummy wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve her forever. That was so not what Mum was about.”
Paul’s expression relaxed somewhat, and he rocked quietly for a few more seconds until Mary spoke again.
“John has an identical ring. I noticed while we were in the kitchen.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.
Paul looked very sheepish, and stared at his hands like a guilty little boy as he spoke. “He gave this ring to me. So I gave him mum’s rings. He’s wearing them on a chain around his neck.”
Mary felt tears in the back of her eyes. “That’s very touching,” she said, simply. Still, her father wouldn’t meet her eyes. She supposed he was very torn about the whole subject. She asked softly, “Do the rings represent a pledge of some kind?”
Paul looked up, alarmed. Mary thought he looked just like a deer caught in the headlights. He said, “We didn’t really say any words.” He looked down at the ring on his fingers. He pulled off the ring and handed it to Mary. “But read the inscription.”
Mary, touched by her father’s shyness and trust, looked into the interior of the ring band. It was hard to see, because it was dark in the nursery with only one shaded light and a nightlight on. But she barely made out the word ‘Always.’ She looked up and smiled warmly at her dad. “This is very sweet,” she said, handing the ring back. “Do you consider it to be like a wedding ring?”
“Wedding ring!?” Paul’s response was a bit loud, but he quickly shushed himself because of the sleeping baby. He added, “No, I don’t think it’s like we’re married, although maybe John feels that way...” Paul stopped to think about this thorny issue. Mary had good, commonsense opinions. Maybe she would have something helpful to say to him. “I guess I struggle with the idea of ‘marriage’ between two men. I don’t have a problem with the word ‘commitment’, though. Not sure what the difference is. Do you think there is a difference?”
Mary could see her father was a little embarrassed. Her heart tugged. She loved the man so much. He tried to be so strong and practical and in charge, but the little boy in him kept popping out at moments of emotional intimacy. She smiled and said, “Daddy, you live with John. I’m assuming you don’t have other lovers. You couldn’t possibly live without him. I guess it doesn’t matter if you call it a ‘marriage’ or a ‘commitment’ - it’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”
Paul listened to Mary, and knew that she was saying it like it was. In truth, Paul had already admitted to himself that this ‘commitment’ he made was very like a ‘marriage.’ He had just been reluctant to say so to Linda’s daughter. But Linda’s daughter - true to her mother’s spirit - was letting him know she understood and approved of his decision to move forward with John, and only with John. Paul sighed and leaned back in the rocking chair, letting it move back and forth a few more strokes, and then said, “John is so much happier since the ring exchange. He seems to feel so much more secure.”
“Do you remember what you whispered to me as you were walking me down the aisle as I married Alistair?” Mary asked.
Paul thought back, and then remembered. He smiled. “Yes, I do,” he said, and exchanged another knowing smile with his daughter. Being married is about making each other feel safe enough so you can both fly...
“Well, consider this my way of telling you the same thing back again.” Mary grinned very pertly.
Her father chuckled softly. “I think we should go down and save Alistair from John’s alternative universe,” he joked. Mary held her giggles back until they had left the nursery and were tripping down the stairs.
*****
The Next Day
The Next Day
“Stella! You’ll never guess!” Mary’s voice was breathless as she emoted into her cell phone.
“Well tell me what it is then, since I’ll never guess,” Stella responded in a kind of smartass manner.
“So Daddy and John were over for dinner last night, and I just happened to notice that they were wearing identical rings on their ring fingers!”
“No shit!” Stella yelled into her phone. “For real?”
“Yes! Very stylish rings at that - yin and yang symbols on top, and ‘Always’ in script engraved inside.”
“No way! How corny!” Stella cried.
“It is so cute. It is really very very cute,” Mary corrected, but her voice couldn’t hide her amusement.
“Did you say anything?” Stella’s voice was filled with intense interest.
“I spoke to Daddy about it. He was a little sheepish, but he admitted that he and John had made a commitment of some kind,” Mary gossiped.
“Well, d’uh,” Stella said indignantly. “The whole frickin’ world knows they’re committed to each other. It’s about time that they acknowledged it themselves.”
Mary laughed at Stella’s dramatics, but wasn’t sure she agreed with her sister. “Do you really think that’s true? That the ‘whole world’ knows about it?”
Stella said, “Well, I exaggerated to make a point. I mean, all of the family and all of our friends know. And I’m pretty sure all of their music business friends and associates have figured it out if they don’t know outright. And I would be surprised if most of their fans haven’t got a notion. I mean, especially since Mum’s death it’s pretty obvious.”
Mary sighed. She felt protective of her father and John, as if on her mother’s behalf, and she hoped there wasn’t a world of hurt ahead of them. “I suppose most people will be willing to go along with the ‘secret’ as long as the details aren’t rubbed in their faces,” Mary said slowly.
“I never thought of that,” Stella said. “But I suppose you’re right. But how sad if they have to keep pretending for the rest of their lives.” Stella’s voice had become subdued. “It must be painful to have to hide your feelings all the time.”
“Well, Daddy is used to holding back his feelings. But John...” Mary’s voice had trickled off.
“I know what you mean,” Stella responded. “Poor John. I think it must hurt him the most.”
*****
Later That Day
Later That Day
“So, how is married life treating you?” Fiona joked cheerfully, as John plopped down with abandon on her sofa.
John swung one leg extravagantly over the other and chirped back in veddy veddy posh tones, “Very well, thank you.”
Fiona grinned at her patient. What a character! “Last week we left off discussing this new détente you have reached with Paul. How’s it coming along - seriously, now.”
John’s arm was stretched out over the back of the sofa, and his fingers were idly playing with the ribbing on the top of the cushion. He watched his fingers for a moment - especially the one wearing the ring - and then turned back to Fiona. “We’re like an old married couple, for sure,” he said easily. “I’m still overly emotional and needy, and Paul’s still cheerful and energetic and holding back his doubts and fears. We haven’t changed that much. My feelings about how we interact have changed, though.”
“How so?”
“I guess I’m not so desperate now. I suppose it’s time I gave up that constant fear of abandonment. It’s kind of ridiculous really, when you consider all the years Paul has been loyal to me, you’d think I’d have cottoned to the realization sooner.”
John was in a particularly thoughtful mood today, and Fiona was glad. He always did his best work when he was in this particular mood. “How does it affect Paul?”
“Hmmm?” John asked, confused.
“You being at ease in your relationship now - how has that affected Paul?”
“I see what you mean. I guess he’s not walking on eggshells as much these days. You know - this brings up a thought I had the other day.”
“What’s that?” Fiona asked, leaning forwards a little to encourage him.
“It occurred to me that Paul might have a fear of abandonment too. You know, it just popped into my head while I was thinking of all that Stu Sutcliffe and Yoko stuff: maybe Paul is also insecure about people staying with him, but just does a much better job of hiding it than I do. After all, he lost his mother when he was young, too.”
Fiona considered John’s comment. She agreed with him. She had figured that out about Paul back in the days when he’d come in to see her for a while. Strange that John had never figured it out before, but then John was kind of a me-thinker. “I think that is a very interesting insight, John,” Fiona said.
“I mean, this way of looking at it makes me feel very bad about the way I’ve treated him over the years. I always thought he was so strong and stable, and emotionally capable of handling all kinds of emotional trauma. I also believed he was a bit of a loner - independent and wanting time to himself. I resented that about him, but now I wonder if that was all a way to protect himself from being hurt.”
“How so?” Fiona asked.
“Well, if he acts like he’s got it all together, and no one can touch him, no one will know how scared he is, or how lonely he is. You know? Maybe he feared trusting people - like I do - in case they got too close to him, and then abandoned him.”
“Like the times you set him aside to concentrate on Stu, and on Yoko?” Fiona asked.
John nodded, his expression one of sagacity. “Yeah, like that.” John shook his head. “I can’t quite believe that’s true, because my image of him is of someone so self-sufficient... but if I’m right about this, then I can begin to understand how badly I hurt him so many times. I couldn’t figure out why he was so fixated on that whole Stu thing, but this theory would explain it.”
“I had a similar thought, although a bit different,” Fiona commented.
“Oh, what’s that?” Now John leaned forward, his languid pose a thing of the past. He was fully engaged in the conversation now.
“I had wondered if the reason he became so fearful of being abandoned was because of what happened with Stu. In other words, your treatment of him at that time in his life - he was a teenager, right? - Maybe that is what caused him to lose trust in people he cared about.” Fiona realized this was a heavy thought - it might hurt John badly. But he needed to realize how badly he damaged Paul before he could give Paul the reassurance he so obviously needed.
John was silent after Fiona finished speaking. He was staring at the floor, deep in thought. He said, “I thought maybe it was losing his mother.” His voice was a little petulant, but also a little worried.
Fiona said, “The take I have on Paul is that he was a very self-confident kid, scarred a little by the teasing he got about his weight when he was young, but he knew he was adored by both of his parents and his large family, and so when his mother died, he had his father and his aunties and most especially you. I wonder sometimes about how he bonded to you so quickly, when he isn’t one to bond to others quickly. I wonder if he was thinking he could trust you to adore him, just like his whole family and his friends did.”
John was blinking, showing his confusion. “Are you saying that when I lost interest and went off with Stu it was his first abandonment, not his second?” John didn’t want this to be true.
“That is what I think. I feel certain Paul was very sure of his mother’s love. He knew she would not leave him voluntarily, and he blamed the cancer for her death, not her. He was well adjusted. But I think he was clinging to you emotionally, John, at a very vulnerable time in his life, and when you suddenly directed your interest elsewhere, this was his first big heartbreak.”
“Wow,” John said, his eyes wide open. “I would never have come to that conclusion.”
“Why not?” Fiona asked, her voice open and inviting.
“Well, because...” John ran out of words. He was searching his brain madly for the right ones, but they wouldn’t come. It occurred to John that maybe the reason they wouldn’t come was that he had no argument against Fiona’s presentation of the facts. He cleared his throat as a delaying tactic, but finally said, “I guess because I’m a self-centered son of a bitch and it never occurred to me because, if it did occur to me, I would feel terribly guilty about what I did.”
“It’s food for thought, anyway,” Fiona said.
John quickly changed the subject, uncomfortable all of a sudden with what the conversation had reflected of his behavior. “Oh, I almost forgot - next week is the second anniversary of Linda’s death. I wanted to ask your advice. Should I bring the subject up with Paul, and ask him what he wants to do about it? Or should I say nothing, and let him bring it up with me?” John sincerely wanted advice, because he had no clue what was the better thing to do.
Fiona considered the question and then offered, “I would wait until the day before, and if Paul hasn’t brought it up with you, then I would bring it up. He might be concerned that he would hurt your feelings if he brought it up, and if that is the case it would be good if you allayed those fears by letting him know that you are missing Linda too.”
“That’s good advice,” John admitted. “Normally I would ask Mary what to do, but since Linda was her mother, I didn’t want to walk into that mare’s nest, either.”
Fiona had been about to ask who Mary was, but John had then identified her as Linda’s daughter. Interesting. Fiona hadn’t given much thought to John’s relationships with Paul’s children. She knew that Paul had close, loving and strong relationships with John’s two sons, but hadn’t dwelt too much on Paul’s four children. “You and Mary are close?” Fiona asked.
John smiled easily, “She’s the sunshine of my life. She is like a perfect mix between her father and her mother - of their sweet and gentle and thoughtful sides, and she looks so much like Paul. I think of her as a daughter, and I think she thinks of me as her replacement mother!” John laughed. “I mean, we talk about her baby, her marriage, my relationship with Paul, we shop and cook together - these are all kind of mother-daughter activities. She was very close to her mother, so I think she needed someone to fill part of the hole Linda’s death left.”
“It’s great that you have a good relationship with her. What about the other three?” Fiona asked.
“Stella’s personality is also a mix of her mother and father - the stronger, more direct and pushy aspects of them. She and I have a strong friendship. I think I am like a kind of uncle to her - but the kind of uncle who is immature, and who she bosses around. We spark off each other, and she’s no one’s fool. Love her.”
“I can’t think why we haven’t spoken of this subject in so long,” Fiona said.
“Probably because the kids haven’t been a problem between Paul and me, or in my life. They have been a positive. James, Paul’s son, is very shy and introverted, but he has definite - even stubborn - opinions. He doesn’t always follow the jokes, though. I sometimes wonder if he’s all there. Maybe he has constructed a James-land, like Paul has his Paul-land, I don’t know. But we enjoy each other’s company.”
“And the fourth one? Another daughter, right?”
“Yeah, the eldest. She’s actually Linda’s daughter from her first marriage, but Paul adopted her when she was young. Heather is also shy and introverted. I think Heather and James take after their mother, personality wise, although they lack her chutzpah and her nurturing nature. Stella got Linda’s chutzpah, and Mary got her nurturing nature. I think Heather and James inherited more of her less positive traits, like her insecurity.”
“You’ve given it a lot of thought I see,” Fiona commented. “I recall that Heather was the one who took your relationship with her father the hardest. Has she accepted it since?”
“Yes, she’s accepted it - but in a less than fully honest way I think. She still misses her mother deeply, and Paul treats her like she is a fragile person, which in truth she is. He is very gentle and patient with her. She is the only one of the four whom I can’t really joke with or tease; she takes it literally, can’t respond in kind, and is easily hurt. She has none of those tough Irish McCartney genes. So I treat her gently, too, and I don’t play word games with her or challenge her with bold ideas.”
Fiona smiled and asked, “Does she see you as a father figure?”
“I don’t think so. I think she sees me as a kind of uncle or close family friend. I don’t think she’ll ever think of me as a parent.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“I don’t think she allows herself to think about Paul and me - I mean, that we sleep together. I think she just can’t fathom that, and anyway it interferes with her vision of her mother and father - she of all the kids clings to that childhood image of Paul and Linda, the hippie parents. Of course, she was the one who experienced it the most, since she was so much older than the others.”
“I see that,” Fiona admitted. “But how will she react to Paul taking off his wedding rings and wearing yours instead?”
John was brought up short. He was stumped. “I never thought of that.”
“It would probably be a good idea if you and Paul discussed how you are going to break this information to your respective children.”
“Mary and Stella know already. Mary saw the rings when we were at dinner at her house last night, and this morning she called Stella and told her, so of course Stella immediately called me and gave me grief about it.” John chuckled with the memory.
“Grief?” Fiona asked.
“Yeah, she was ragging at me for running off and eloping with her father without asking her permission. She was also ragging at me for denying her and Mary a big wedding to plan. She’s a total crack up.”
Both John and Fiona were chuckling now.
*****
While John was at his therapist, Stella had decided to go visit her father at his office, and invite him out to lunch. She wanted to talk to him about the whole John thing, because she felt he needed some back stiffening along with some bracing reassurance. Paul had been delighted when his youngest daughter showed up. He was so immensely proud of her success, and enjoyed talking to her about her business. She had a strong head for business and finance, and in that way the two of them were matched. They went to an Italian café that they both liked, and settled in with a crisp pinot grigio.
“I called John this morning and read him the riot act,” Stella said archly, one eyebrow hovering upwards of her eye.
Paul chuckled. “So I heard.”
“I can’t believe you two went off and basically got married and then didn’t even tell us when you got back! How could you do that to us?” Stella wasn’t really upset. She was just giving her father grief, as she had done to John earlier on the phone.
“We didn’t get married, baby,” Paul said.
“Well what do you call it then? You’re wearing each other’s rings, you’re living together, there’s no one else in your lives - is there? Or is there?” This last phrase was accentuated with a lower, menacing tone. She was glaring at her father, about to eat him alive if he was cheating on John.
Paul saw the murder in her eyes and smiled affectionately. “I don’t like to talk about such things with my children generally, but no, there is no one else but John.”
Stella lightened up immediately and said, “Just as it should be. You ought to know that Mary and I will consider it cheating if either of you go off and play with someone else.”
“Stella, you go too far!” Paul’s expression and tone were playful, not upset. “I don’t dictate to you about who you sleep with.”
“But I’m not living with someone, and you are. I often thought you were living pretty high on the hog what with mum and John at your beck and call. I hope you haven’t got any ideas in your head that you are entitled to that sort of thing going forward.” Stella was using her wine glass as a kind of emphasis prop. Paul was watching the wine sloshing up and down the glass with worried fascination. How long could she keep it up without spilling?
Paul roused himself from his ruminations about potential wine spillage and said dryly, “I take your point, and while I don’t agree with how you depicted what it was like for me when your mother was alive, I can agree with you that the triangle thing was very difficult for all of us at times, and it wasn’t a first choice for any of us. It was just the only option that worked at least 75% for each of us.”
Stella cocked her side to the head. This was interesting. She had never really discussed this topic with him before, not wanting to pry into her mother’s relationship with her father. “You make it sound like you didn’t consider having them both in your life to be ideal.” Her voice was not judgmental this time. It expressed Stella’s pure interest instead.
“It wasn’t. Especially when you kids were young. It was agony for me to be away from the family. And then it hurt like hell to leave John alone when I went back to you all.”
“Is that why John moved in with us?”
“Yes. We were all hurting too much the other way. But it wasn’t a walk in the park even so, Stella. It isn’t a choice I would have made if I had any other options. I’m sure your mother and John felt the same way about it.”
“I haven’t loved someone yet so much that I couldn’t live without him,” she commented softly.
“My solemn prayer for you is that one day you will find someone who makes you feel that way.” Paul reached over and squeezed her hand - the hand that was so like Linda’s. Beautiful long, articulate fingers with perfect nail beds. He picked her hand up, kissed it, and replaced it on the tabletop. “But let me make it clear that I want it to be one person who makes you feel that way - not two.”
Stella giggled. Her father was so dreamy and lovely. She tried to picture a man who could even half-measure up. So far no man had. She decided to get the conversation back on track. “Anyway, in my clumsy way I was trying to let you know that Mary and I love you and John, and I mean that we love you and John as a couple. We don’t want you to feel shy or embarrassed about it with us. And I also wanted you to know that I am loyal to John just as I am to you, and so if either of you hurt the other badly you’ll have to deal with me!”
Paul laughed. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t lie awake all night in a cold sweat worrying about it?”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Stella told her father. “You don’t spend a second worrying about me coming after you. You know in the end I will melt and won’t be able to stay mad at you. But I do have something else I wanted to talk about with you.”
Paul took a deep, ostentatious breath, to show his daughter that he was preparing for the next onslaught.
“Mary and I were talking about how the whole thing with you and John is kind of an open secret: a badly kept, widely known, open secret. But we suddenly realized that most of the world will leave you moreorless alone so long as you don’t go public with it. We were worried that if you did go public, it would be a nightmare. Do you think that’s accurate?”
Paul had been subconsciously nodding his head, ever so slightly, as Stella had been speaking. He said, “Yes, I think that is a very accurate way of putting it. Of course, there are the social activists always criticizing us for not being public about it, and there are others who basically have their heads in the sand and don’t want to know about it and will get upset if you talk about it, and then there is everyone else in the middle who either don't care, or don’t want to hear about it, but once they do hear about it, will eventually get used to it. That’s how I see it, anyway.”
Stella paused. “And what about John? What does he think about it?”
Paul looked up, a questioning look in his eyes. He allowed his eyebrows to ask for further elucidation.
“Mary and I were thinking that this whole living a lie thing must be far more hurtful to John than it is for you. He isn't good at hiding his feelings.”
Paul’s eyes flickered a bit, but he didn’t look away from Stella’s intense stare. “It isn’t so clear to me,” Paul finally said. “John has always been one to talk about letting things all hang out, but he hates the backlash when he does - much more than I do. It’s his magical thinking. He thinks if he sits in bags in the park that everyone will think he is amazing - a genius! But when they all laugh at him and call him crazy, he gets enraged and is very hurt. So, I guess I’m saying that John may think he wants the world to know, but the truth is that I would be able to handle a negative reaction far better than he would. For this reason, I feel as though I have to protect him from that happening.”
Stella sat back respectfully in her chair and stared at her father. He was, of course, correct. And it occurred to her not for the first time that he knew John Lennon very well.
*****