Why do these romantic holidays have to come when I have no one to be romantic with?
It’s been four months since I returned from England. Not a single call, letter, or telegram from The Beatles. Even Pam has been difficult to contact. Have they all forgotten me?
At least before I had first ventured to London Pam and I would talk once a week. When I first came home nothing had changed. We spoke every day of the first few weeks I was back in New York.
At the time I know she had been spending more time with the female Beatle circle. But when I asked Pam if Jane Asher was now a large presence in Paul’s life and reclaiming her spot in the circle, Pam iced up. All she replied was that she ‘wasn’t sure’—something extraordinarily uncharacteristic of Pam. How could she not be sure? What could possibly cause her to act like this? Have Paul and Jane secretly married and she wants to protect me or something? Has Paul long forgotten me and she doesn’t want to reopen that wound?
I have yet to get over Paul, it’s a wonder if I ever will. I do my best to forget I ever really had a relationship with him, was entranced by him, slept with him. It’s better when I pretend it was all a dream—a dream turned to nightmare.
The Beatles are constantly in the media, there’s even rumor of an upcoming tour in August. It’s difficult to watch them on television or see them in the paper and not miss them. Most of all, I miss Paul and John—I was closest to them, or so I had thought.
I must say Paul and Jane have done an incredible job of hiding themselves for a while. I’ve barely seen a word on her in the teenybopper magazines I had bought when I first returned—desperate situations called for desperate means. After all, my one human connection to the Beatles seemed void of any information and fans have always seemed to be ten times more informed than everyone else.
I wonder what the gatebirds thought when I didn’t return. I wonder what they thought when they saw Jane. That is, if they did see Jane. Who’s to say they didn’t break up then and there? Or Paul wasn’t lying and they really had broken up and Jane still hadn’t gotten over him and was overly possessive?
If the latter were true it would have to mean Paul hadn’t even cared for me, just was in some game with John to see who could get farthest fastest, had won, and lost all interest in me, now onto someone else, not having even given the idea of calling me a second thought. It would mean he had never loved me, never thought much of me—saw me as nothing more than Date Number: 7, 987.
But what if the latter were true and he just hasn’t had the time to contact me? Being too busy with Beatlemania?
Paul? ‘Too busy’ for four months to contact his ‘one true love’ and straighten things out? Yeah, right.
I do miss them, though. I miss being able to see The Beatles on a whim. I miss John’s friendship. I miss Paul’s love.
When I first returned I was an absolute wreck. I had to tell Lydia everything. I needed a shoulder to cry on especially since Pam has continued to speak to me less and less.
Lydia never would have believed me without the pictures and was more than a little offended that I hadn’t contacted her while I was in London with Pam. Her favorite Beatles are John and Ringo and she almost fainted when I told her about that day with John, waiting for Pam on the couch. I showed her the note to ‘The Lotus Jules,’ signed ‘The McCartney Moon’ and she was about to cry. She understands all my confused emotions and still jumps to comfort me whenever Paul makes an appearance on television demonstrating the ever-popular McCartney publicity charm. Every wink, every smile, every hair toss slowly bringing me more and more pain.
Both Lydia and I still work at Macys and have been spending our spare time in Greenwich Village coffee shops. Once or twice I have even played my guitar there. I have yet to write any songs worthy of being deemed wonderful but my old ones seem acceptable enough for the Bohemian crowd. They’re a lot of fun and will accept all talent levels; I’ve learned a lot from them.
I still haven’t straightened out whether I am, or where I am going for graduate school and if I really want to be a psychologist. But for the meantime, I’ve enveloped myself back into the theater world. When I’m not working with Lydia or hanging out in the Village, I’ve been auditioning for as many plays as I’ve seen auditions for. I landed myself in a little known drama playhouse called The String Box as Juliet in William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It’s a role I’ve always wanted to play and am enthralled that I finally have the opportunity. We open in twelve days and run through March 26. I can hardly wait!
Of course, failed romance has seemed to remain a rather negative theme in my life. Not only with Paul, but as it had been with Peter, and now continuing with my role of Juliet Capulet, renowned heroine of the famed romantic disaster.
Well, perhaps my relationships weren’t quite as drastically ended as that of ‘Juliet and her Romeo’ but still remain a horrible upset to me.
Today being Valentine’s Day does little to help the situation. Tonight Lydia and I are going to spend watching romantic movies, eating chocolate, and wishing we had boyfriend. But first there’s a whole day of working in Macys linen department and people watching to get through.
Go to Chapter 2
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