Funny Face | a paul mccartney story

one | confessions

"He's got a girlfriend, y'know."

I turned my head to the man on the stairs beside me. I squinted my eyes against the blinding sunset, and bluntly replied, "you've got a wife."

John sighed and looked away guiltily. He refused to say anything further, and, to be honest, I didn't have anything else to say either.

It was never very often that John and I had conversations such as this. We mostly stayed together as a form of therapy and to have each other's companionship. These were perhaps the only things he and I seriously talked about- and it was never difficult to talk to him. Dark conversations, small talk, it didn't matter. A few kisses never seemed to hurt each other, either. Things changed, however, after that dreadful night a few months prior.

It happened while A Hard Day's Night was being filmed, but my feelings about it had hardly changed. Hell, it was hard enough coming to him as a friend to discuss things now. As of now, I cannot tell you what he did, just know that he had broken my trust, and that was something he may never earn back.

"I don't know if I like this, Melody." He finally admitted.

"Why not?" I looked to him again.

John stared at me for a long time, and all the while he would avoid my eyes. He must have been stalling, or trying to come up with a good excuse, but nothing came out of his mouth. Instead, he shook his head, and returned his gaze out to the lawn.

The freshly mown terrace buzzed with dragonflies and stirred pollen, while the thick line of silver fir trees swayed to and fro in the gentle breeze. So light. So airy. So different from the suffocating atmosphere where we sat.

"Why don't you like it?" I asked.

"Because, I..." he paused, and rubbed his hand over his face. He huffed loudly, then snapped, "Because Paul's me best mate."

I stared at him for a moment, waiting for his answer, then calmly said, "so that's it? That's the only reason?"

John didn't answer.

I stayed still for a moment longer just to see if he would answer. There was no answer. Cautiously, I leant over and pressed my lips to his warm cheek. He didn't look at me when I did so, nor when I stood.

"I came to you first for a reason... just know that."

My heels clicked softly against the concrete stairtops as I made my way up to the back door. John huffed loudly to himself, and even shouted fuck to himself at one point. I looked back at him as the echoes of his shout faded into bird chirps, and Cynthia came out to meet me.

She stood against the door, propping it open with her body, and looked out onto the terrace. She gave a heavy sigh, then looked to me as I stopped at her side. Once again, I looked back to John, and felt terrible for what I done- more for her sake than his.

"I'm sorry for any trouble I may have cause you."

"What did you say to him?" She asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

I hesitantly sunk my teeth into my bottom lip and dropped my gaze to my feet, thinking to myself, how do I answer this...?

I simply replied, "I asked if it would be alright if Paul and I were to start dating."

Cynthia nodded.

"I mean, you'd think he'd be happy I'm not Jane..."

I think Cynthia knew that John and I were closer than we gave her credit for. She was too smart for such a ludicrous accusation, and John was a terrible liar. He always had his emotions on display, especially if he was vulnerable. Poor Cynthia knew this. She knew it all too well.

"I think he's afraid of losing his best friend."

I scoffed at her in my thoughts, saying to myself, I don't think it's the friend he's afraid of losing there, Cyn...

"Mmm," was how I replied.

We both turned our sights on John, who still sat on the stairs. His head hung down, and his shoulders slumped down low. It was a pitiful sight, but I couldn't go back to comfort him. Not now, especially with Cynthia standing at the back door.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" She asked.

I shook my head gently and said solemnly, "no, I'm alright, thanks."

"Are you sure? You haven't been over in ages."

"Umm, I think it's best if I go..." I took a quick glance at John once more. "For all of us..."

Cynthia nodded again, and took a step back to push the door further open. She ticked her head to the side and sighed, "I'll walk you out."

I gave her a gentle thank you smile, and stepped inside.

I felt as though I was letting myself out. I couldn't look at anything apart from the floor as I hurried to the front door. Cynthia padded along behind me, her stockings were slipping against the slick hardwood. She let out a startled yelp as we approached the door, then started laughing to herself.

"What is it?" I asked, coming back to her.

"Julian left Roddy in the middle of the floor, s'all." She held up the stuffed bear for me to see, then tossed it on the sofa.

"Where is Julian?"

"He's asleep."

I followed her gaze to see the boy sleeping in an armchair across the room. His mouth was slacked open just slightly, enough to allow him to breath through it, and his arm laid outstretched over the edge of the chair. I felt a lump form in my throat at the sight.

To distract myself, I longing glanced down to the stuffed bear on the sofa. The dead stare it gave out into the world reminded me of the house I stood in now. Cold and lonely.

Once more, I looked to Julian, then back to the bear, and decided to stay a few seconds longer. I walked past Cynthia, grabbed the bear, and then carefully approached Julian. I gently set the bear on the child's outstretched arm, then backed away. Once again that lump in my throat formed, and I turned away quickly.

"Goodbye, Cyn." I choked as I stepped outside.

"G'night, Melody." She replied, and shut the door.

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First chapter down!

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Cheers, my loves ❤