‘He doesn’t hate you, Paul. You’re aware of this, aren’t you?’, her tone became serious as she spoke between the sips of her tea. In spite of all the conflicts between them - and the fact that she inevitably sided with George - it saddened her to see old friendships being ruined over so many misunderstandings. Besides, regardless of how much he’d probably dread it, Pattie couldn’t help but feel bad for Paul. It was clear, through his words, that he felt somewhat rejected—disliked, even, by those who had been his closest friends. It reminded Pattie of how she used to feel when she joined boarding school, shortly after her family had moved back from Kenya. It had been so horrible feeling unloved like that, first when her mother sent her away, next when the girls wouldn’t talk to her because she had seemed to come from a completely different world, one that was made of divorced parents and wild animals around her home, while all the other girls seemed to talk about novels and TV, things she had been thus far quite unfamiliar with.
‘To be quite honest’, she hesitated a moment, wondering whether or not should she share some personal information with him, ‘he hasn’t been the same since that trip to India. He doesn’t identify with this life anymore, and in the process it feels like…’, she came to an abrupt pause suddenly. Her eyes drifted away, as if absorbed in deep thought, her eyebrows spontaneously approaching each other in an expression of distress. ‘It feels like he’s become so focused on being detached from everything around him, that he’s leaving even me behind’, she admitted, with some reluctance and a definite sorrow in her voice. ‘Things have been a bit difficult around here, too. But I suppose it only feels this bad for us because it matters. Do you understand? He wouldn’t have been so angry at you if he didn’t care for your opinion. It was just that, everything was so overwhelming, it’s hard to stay calm and express your feelings in a proper manner while the four of you were at each other’s throats.’
‘I get how you feel, Paul. I understand your frustration, because I gave up on a promising career to dedicate seven years of my life for a man only to have him come home late at night smelling like perfume that I don’t wear’, she chewed her lip nervously as she spoke, uncomfortable at the admissal. though aware that Paul probably knew much more about what George did when she wasn’t around than Pattie ever could. ‘But he’ll listen to you, if you try to talk to him. You have been his friend since he was practically a child–he’s not going to cut you out of his life forever.’
The Beatles had trucked into India as a unit, united in grief, and united in belief, but something had faded when they trickled out, one by one. Paul didn’t know what had went so wrong, he couldn’t pin the exact moment that it’d all changed. He’d left earlier than the others, before the disillusionment had settled in for John and his mate decided he’d had his fair share of that week’s guru, but it wasn’t possible for something so tight to fall so apart so quickly, was it?
Maybe it hadn’t been so quick. Maybe India was the stepping stone to larger problems, each gone unaddressed because no one wanted to be the bore, no one wanted to be unhip and say, ‘hey, this is wrong--this isn’t right.’ The drugs were fine, the bills were getting paid, and the music was being made, albeit the mistakes they made. Apple was a large one, one that still lingered over Paul heavily, despite his desire for it to disappear into the darkness it’d arisen from. It was a pipe dream executed poorly on the account that, again, no one had enough gall to stand up and say, fuck off, alright? You’re no good for this company and we want you out. Paul had tried that once, with Derek Taylor’s swarm of secretaries. He’d told Derek he needed to fire one, the pretty bird who was no good, and George told Paul no, that they’d reinstate her as soon as Paul sent her away because they didn’t do that. No, no, no--he had said that a lot didn’t he? That’s why he had to fucking sue them, because George had said no to him leaving the company, and that’s all he had wanted--away from it all, as far as he could be to his little respite in the country.
❛ I’ve no room t’talk, ❜ Paul shoved his hands in the warmth of his coat pockets, staring ahead at the blonde. Paul wouldn’t have retraced his steps and done it over with Jane, being proper to her and not cheating, because he was quite open with her about what he did. He was only sorry he’d hurt her so badly there at the end, the way he hadn’t meant to. Paul had been engaged to her, and he was sorry he’d done that and screwed around on her then. That was were he and George differed; marriage meant much more to Paul than it ever did George, apparently. Not even in all of his sorrow did Paul think of stepping out on Linda. Still, he remained mute about the subject of such matters; it was better to keep your nose out of that pot, and George was already pissed at him enough as it was without him having to meddle his marriage.
❛ Pattie, it doesn’t really much matter if he ever chooses t’forgive me later, it’s now that matters. ❜ He didn’t know how to make her understand the pain he felt, being isolated from the three men he’d grown with, the three men who he’d trusted so dearly. Those three had become so much apart of himself that he felt psychically ill and broken up without their presence.
Paul had always been the most distant one. He’d been the one in the city while the others fled to the suburbs of London. He’d been the club going, house hopping, art-buying, avant-garde one before John ever claimed the title, and perhaps that been his downfall. He’d not wanted to buy that stupid fucking island Magic Alex told them they needed and John so enthusiastically promoted to him, and he was paying for it now, wasn’t he? He’d give it all just to be there, just to be alright, just for a moment.
❛ It might be alright if it was just George, yanno. ❜ Paul rose an arch eyebrow in thought, reflecting, ❛ S’not jus’ George who’s peeved with me now though, is it? I’ve lost John too. Fuck, Pattie he’s doin’ heroin now, you know? That’s why he’s so...I don’t fuggin’ know. Against me? An’ he’s always shouted the loudest, had the biggest fuggin’ gob out of us all, an’ George always follows him, the prat. An’ where George goes Ringo follows, so you know where that leaves me. ❜
He grew quiet for a beat, before spilling more details to Pattie. He’d doubted George had filled her in, because Paul had a difficult time doing so with Linda, and he was close to her. it just felt so useless, to talk about it when it was so damaged, but it felt a bit like a relief as he did. ❛ It’s that Allen Klein. John’s so off his head with Yoko, yanno, and it’s jus’ another flig, another person t’hang onto, Allen. George doesn’t fuggin’ know, an’ I do, because Linda’s dad does this sort of stuff, an’ he’s gonna screw us. That’s why they fuggin’ hate me right now, but I don’t want to be fucked, an’ he’s gonna do that. He’ll suck them dry, and Pattie I jus’ wanted--I jus’ want--to help George. ❜