Nowhere Girl ~ John Lennon/The Beatles

Chapter Eleven: Reverse Reflection

A week passed, and Robin and John still hadn't made amends.

After he stormed out and she opened up about herself, Robin spent the night at Stuart's, the two of them talking about anything and everything. He was right, he really was her best friend, and even though she didn't tell him every little detail, it felt good to have someone she could trust that much. Part of her liked opening up to someone, and she liked knowing someone had her back and carried that knowledge around with her. She liked knowing that someone other than her mother and uncle knew why she was like she was, even if Stuart didn't know the full story.

She'd spent the night at his flat, sleeping on the tiny sofa. It hadn't been planned, but she'd stayed so late that she missed the last bus, and she didn't want to trouble Albert by phoning and asking for a lift. Maybe she should have though, because when she got home the next morning both her mother and her Uncle were waiting for her. Albert was just worried, but her mother was furious, so she'd spent the whole day hiding out in her room. When she did eventually emerge for dinner her mother didn't even speak to her, only to tell her that she was grounded and banned from leaving the house other than for college.

That was fine by Robin, deciding that she didn't particularly want to be social after what happened with John. She was over it, as much as she'd hated the way he treated her she knew he was acting out of anger and grief, but she didn't fancy hanging out with him socially, not until he apologised at least, and considering everyone she knew in Liverpool were John's friends it might be a bit awkward to see people. She didn't really know the friendship group that well, but they seemed close-knit enough that if John had decided he no longer liked Robin the rest of them would hold a grudge. Stuart would probably disagree, but she didn't want to expect them still to like her if John didn't.

The days that followed were a weird blur of nothingness. It was as if she had accidentally slipped back into her old Sheffield routine of keeping to herself, except it was jarringly different because she wasn't used to being her old self in this new city. Liverpool had previously seemed to be a place of constantly taking herself out of her comfort zone, constantly developing herself into someone she could be happier with rather than someone who was so isolated they didn't even realise they were lonely. She liked Liverpool, but she didn't like it when she was alone.

Part of her missed John, especially after she thought he'd try and talk to her at college on Monday, but he wasn't there. He wasn't in the canteen at dinner time, leaving her alone to put up with Jenny, and he wasn't in lettering class either. Without him, their tiny, shared desk felt far too big, and far too empty. Without him borrowing her equipment, without him scribbling notes onto her sketchbook, she felt weirdly alone. It was clear he was avoiding her though, so she tried not to be too sentimental, focusing herself on her work, though it was difficult to keep her thoughts away from him.

Being at home wasn't any easier. Her mother picked up more hours at work, or she was going out with her work friends after, Robin wasn't really sure which one was the truth, but either way she was hardly in the house,
which was fine by her. They'd hardly spoken, not after she'd gotten back from Stuart's and Rita had a few choice words for Robin, and neither of them were in the mood for round two. Robin felt bad for her uncle, considering he'd invited them both to live with him only to now have to live with the tension the Knight women created.

It was also tricky being home and looking out her bedroom window, knowing that in the house next door was John, probably putting off his college work by playing his guitar. Maybe he was playing covers of old rock and roll songs, the ones he'd sometimes whistle as they were walking to the bus stop or to college, or maybe he was writing his own songs, the ones he'd practice with the band that would make all the girls in the Cavern go wild. Perhaps he actually was doing his college work for once though, hunched over his book with his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he desperately tried to concentrate, his forehead creased as he eventually gave up and doodled his own creations. The longer she wondered about what he was doing the more Robin cursed herself, finding it pathetic that she was practically desperate to know what was going on with him, feeling pitiful that she'd unknowingly been studying him ever since their first meeting to the point she had picked up on the small details of his character, details she'd almost started to like.