Tomorrow Never Knows - Chapter Thirty-Two
Authors: lovely_rita_mm, jenny_wren28, & pennylane_fic
Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue
Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).
Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.
Maggie stood in shocked silence and listened as John stormed down the stairs and out the front door.
He was gone.
The instant she was alone, she berated herself. It was true that finding all those postcards from Yoko had been a shock, but John had told her and shown her time and time again that she was the one he loved. Why couldn't she believe it? And why couldn't she have gotten out the truth about Yoko? If only she had, she knew he would understand why she was so threatened by Yoko. If John knew what had happened to Cynthia after their return from India the first time, then he would surely see why she felt the way she did.
She had to catch him.
Maggie raced down the stairs, and out the door, but it was too late. His car had already pulled away.
She walked slowly back upstairs and sat down on the bed. The house was empty. Dot had left hours ago, leaving a casserole for them to warm up for dinner. Food. She needed food.
Mindlessly, she put the casserole in the oven to heat and sat down at the table to think. Instead, she burst into tears.
She ate her dinner without tasting it; the food brought her no comfort at all. She washed her dish and put the leftovers in the fridge and then looked at the clock. John had not come back as she'd hoped he would. It was up to her. She was the one who owed him an apology, after all, for tampering with his mail, for not trusting him. She would go down to the studio and give it to him. And then she would explain why the thought of "John and Yoko" made her so crazy.
She grabbed her keys and wallet and hopped in her Mini Cooper and headed off to EMI.
She parked out front, and noted the lack of fans. Usually there were tons of fans whenever a Beatle was present. It was uncanny how they knew when one would be here. They wouldn't be expecting John, of course, so it wasn't too surprising to not see fans outside.
Maggie walked up to the front door, pausing a minute to look at it. She remembered the first time she had entered this building in 2006, excited to be going on a tour of EMI. Then she remembered standing in the rain, desperately pulling on the locked door, willing it to open so that she could go back in time again to save John after she'd failed the first time.
Today the door opened easily in her hand. She headed for Studio 2, the usual place where the Beatles recorded. It was empty. She ducked her head in each of the others, but there was no sign of John or anyone else she knew. No one but a Beatle recorded at night anyway. She backtracked to the reception area, and inquired if anyone had seen John. Beatles didn't escape notice, so if he were here, someone would know. But the evening receptionist, who instantly recognized her, apologetically denied having seen John at all tonight.
John had said he was going to the studio, but he wasn't here. Where could he be? Maggie remembered their argument, particularly John's last words, with crystal-like clarity. Could he… no, he couldn't. She wouldn't even think that. Not yet anyway. The thought that perhaps she had succeeded in being the catalyst that actually brought John and Yoko together was too much to bear.
Maggie headed to Apple, to her office, where she could make some phone calls in peace. Why the hell hadn't they invented cell phones yet? If John had a cell, she could simply call him. But it didn't work that way here. She had to start with calling all of his friends.
Apple was relatively quiet at this time of night. A casual inquiry at reception told her that John had not been by here either.
Hopefully, Maggie poked her head in a few offices anyway. Peter Brown was gone for the day, but Neil was in. Maggie said a quick hello and then retreated to her own office.
She sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands. Who should she call first? Where was John most likely to go if he were in need of a place to hide? To Paul's maybe? She'd try him first.
"Hello?" It was Paul's housekeeper.
"Hello, this is Maggie, is Paul at home?"
"Oh hello, dear. Sorry, but he's had to leave town suddenly."
"Is everything okay?" Maggie wished she could text him to find out what was going on. Communication in the 60s was frustratingly limited.
"I think so. He didn't say much, just grabbed a small suitcase and told me he was heading to the airport. Mal went with him. That was a few hours ago."
"I don't suppose you've seen John tonight? He didn't stop by or anything?"
"Sorry, no, I haven't seen him."
"All right, thanks." Maggie hung up the phone puzzled and a little worried. Why would Paul race off to the airport like… wait, Linda! Maybe Paul had finally made up his mind and was racing off to New York to beg Linda's forgiveness. The thought cheered her a bit, though it didn't solve her current problem.
She tried George next. "Hey, luv, what's new?" he asked.
"John isn't over at your house, is he?"
"Nope, haven't seen him. Why?"
"We had a fight," she said in a small voice. "About Yoko."
"Oh no!" He was instantly sympathetic. "You still haven't told him, have you?"
"No. I found all these postcards from Yoko in his bag, and we got into a fight, and he left. He said he was going to the studio, but he's not at there, or here at Apple, or at Paul's."
"I'm sure he's around. Maybe he's even at home waiting for you."
"Maybe you're right. I was just going to try Ringo, and then go home."
"Do that. Pattie's out of town, so I'm here by my lonesome. Call me if you need to talk later, okay?"
"I didn't think Beatles were ever lonely. Or alone." Maggie tried to joke.
George laughed. "I'll call and have some dancing girls sent over, if it will please you."
She managed a laugh, but it was obvious to George that she was worried.
"It will be okay, I know it," he reassured her.
"If you say so." She rang off with George and then dialed Ringo's home number.
"Hello?"
"Hi Maureen. Is Ringo there?"
"Yes. What do you want?" Mo asked flatly.
Maggie sighed to herself. "I'm looking for John. He hasn't been by, has he?" She tried to keep her voice light, not wanting Maureen to sense that anything was wrong.
"What, did he go missing on you?"
"No, I just need to find him to tell him something, and I'm not sure where he is. He's not at the studio or Apple, and I've already tried George and Paul, but no luck."
"Why don't you try Paul's flat?" Mo made the suggestion casually, but the implication was clear. Paul's flat was the place the Beatles brought women. It had also been the place Maggie and John had lived happily together until they'd bought their house. Surely John wouldn't bring a woman there, wouldn't bring Yo... No! She couldn't even think it! However, maybe it was where John was hiding out. She'd better check.
"Thanks, Mo, I'm sure I'll find him." Maggie tried to sound unconcerned.
After she hung up the phone, she grabbed her stuff and headed out to Paul's flat.
* * *
Maggie didn't have a key anymore, so she raised a hand to knock before she tried jiggling the doorknob. Wait - was that a voice?
She paused and listened and could just make out a man's voice. It had a Liverpudlian cadence to it. John WAS here. Maybe he was calling the house to tell her where she was? Maggie reached out to grab the doorknob and then froze when she heard a high-pitched giggle. John wasn't alone. Maggie's hand dropped to her side and she stood and listened despite herself. She couldn't make out any words, but there were clearly two voices talking – a woman and a Beatle. Paul was out of town, George and Ringo were at home, and even Mal and Neil had been accounted for. That left only one possibility.
Maggie strained her ears. There was laughter and then there was silence. Maggie stood there silently, cursing herself for being a fool. She should just open the door or at least knock, but she wasn't sure she could face seeing John there with Yoko. How could he do this to her, even during a fight? The silence was broken by noises from within the flat. Maggie stiffened when she realized what kind of noises they were. The woman cried out, the man moaned, and that was all Maggie could stand to hear. Clearly John and Yoko were in the flat having sex. She couldn't listen.
She fled to her car and sat there shaking, trying to pull herself together enough to drive home. How could John do this? And how could Maureen know he was here? Did Ringo know? Did everyone? Maggie laughed bitterly to herself. The Beatles were a boys club; she was foolish to believe she was different than the other wives and girlfriends.
She just couldn't believe John had finally gone through with the awful threat he had thrown at her during their fight, and to think that he could be so low as to hook up with Yoko in what had been their special place…it was unbearable.
Maggie oscillated between anger and deep sadness that the thing she had been so afraid of had finally happened. The worst part was the fear that Maggie herself had been the cause of this. Why had she been so insecure? Why had she let Yoko come between her and John? She'd tried to fight Yoko for John, but all she'd done was shown John an ugly side – one she didn't know even existed until Yoko had appeared in their lives. Sometimes she didn't even recognize herself anymore.
Maggie cursed herself for all the many things she'd done to lose John. She'd been jealous, possessive, rude to Yoko (even if she'd deserved it), and she'd tampered with John's mail. She also knew she'd been a stick in the mud about drugs and parties. Sure, pot was illegal, but it had never killed anybody, had it? Could she not unbend from her rigid moral code enough to take a lousy puff of a joint at a party? God, she must be a total drag. No wonder John preferred Yoko. Yoko had no problem doing drugs.
She was tired, so tired. She was worn down and sick of fighting. She'd practically given up after Brian's death, but Linda had convinced her that it was worth it to keep fighting. Now that it was clear she'd pushed John into Yoko's arms, there was nothing worth fighting for. Or against.
Maggie made it home in one piece and sat in the car in their driveway, numb. But she knew the numbness would eventually lift and then the tears would come. She needed and wanted to keep that numb feeling, she couldn't bear a whole night of self-flagellating "if only's".
Once Maggie had gotten herself into the house, she headed straight for the liquor cabinet, which, by virtue of the fact that a Beatle lived here, was well-stocked. She sat down heavily on the floor in front of it, picked a bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. She grimaced as it went down. The second sip went down a little easier. Her insides warmed and her muscles loosened a bit – and then, taking her a bit by surprise, a sob escaped her. She sat on the floor and cried, only pausing to sip from the bottle.
If I'm not careful, I'll drink the whole bottle, and that probably won't be good for me, she thought. Who can I count on to drive me to the hospital in case of alcohol poisoning? There was really one person she could call.
------
George was sprawled out on his couch reading a book on Indian philosophy and religion. Pattie was out of town with her sister, so he had the place to himself for a few days, which was nice. After his experience in India, he was eager for some time alone so he could practice some meditation techniques in peace.
The phone rang, and he was tempted to ignore it, but he was afraid it might be Maggie calling back. She'd called a few hours ago looking for John.
"Hello?"
"Are you alone?" Maggie wasn't sure how serious George was about the dancing girls.
"Yes, thank you. I was just finishing a book."
"Could you come over?" Maggie sniffled.
"What's the matter?" George sat up. Maggie was clearly crying. That couldn't mean anything good.
"Yoko. I think he's left me for Yoko."
"I'll be right there."
"George, wait…"
He paused.
"Can you please bring some pot?" She was so tired of trying to stay good – what had being good gotten her? Maybe if she'd been more willing to try things, to share in the things John enjoyed, this wouldn't have happened. It's not like pot was the same as heroin, was it?
"Are you sure?" George had never seen her smoke it – clearly she was in bad shape if she was asking for him to bring her some.
"Yes."
George hung up the phone, grabbed a bag from his stash on the mantle, and hopped into his car.
A/N: Thanks for reading! The next update will hopefully be next Sunday! We love comments, so please tell us what you think!