Paul is ready to show a part of the bassist that no one knows about, but maybe John isn't ready to see it.
"What's wrong with you Paul? Why are you acting like this!" He grabbed his partner by the sleeves on dress that John had been shocked to see his lover wear.
"It's who I am," McCartney said, removing John's hand. "Don't shake me like that. You know I don't like it."
John stepped vigourusly to the bed, hitting it.
"John, I'm sorry..." McCartney said. "I didn't know you would be so upset."
"Upset!" John shouted, looking at the bed. "I don't know how you expect me to react to this!" He turned and looked at Paul, flinging his arms around in excitment. "How am I suppose to react to my boyfriend coming out of the bathroom in high heels, a dress and a wig? Huh? Tell me!"
"John, be quiet. Please?" McCartney looked in John's eyes sincerly. "I would like to keep this to ourselves for now. Let's talk rationally before you can't control yourself. Calm down," he- or whatever Paul was- said in a very soothing manner. John sat on the bed of the dreary room in a huff. Paul joined him.
"John, I told you that you'd be going to dinner with the real me. Well, this is the real me. My name is Paula McCartney, not James McCartney."
"This is the real you?" John replied bitterly. "Nothing about that" -he gestured towards his partner- "is real. Your hairs face, your tits are fake," he continued, gesturing towards what he was refering to as he mentioned it.
"But I wish they were," the wig-wearer said. "Since I was fifteen years old I would close my eyes as best I could when I got dressed because I was ashamed of seeing parts of something that I was suppose to be. At I would get teased and hit everytime I went in to the girl's bathroom or joined the girls line-ups despite the fact it was my instinct. I would cry in my bed every single night, thinking that only if I was born a girl I could be happy." Paula looked directly into John's pupils with tear-soaked eyes. "This is the first time I felt confident enough to show that I am a girl publically in six years. Because of you. I was stupid enough to think that you could accept me." Paula put her hands to her face.
Lennon tried to gather his thoughts. Paula's words had peirced through him, making him feel both empty and distorted. He didn't know what to say but felt as though he had to say something. John put an arm around Paula.
"Hey, Paula," he whispered. "I'm sorry for shouting. I just don't understand you. I mean, I comphrehend what your saying but I just don't understand it. This is probably me being an asshole like usual, but I don't understand wanting to be a girl. How does it feel to be a boy for you?"
Paula wiped some tears and made a sobbing sould. Make-up had ran over the vaugly feminine face, which now was visable to John.
"It feels like this," Paula said and then tugged on the tie John was wearing. Paula tighted the tie, enough that John felt like he was chocking but he would die if he did. "Being a boy to me feels uncomforable, gasping for the air to express it and never quite finding it. Unless people carefully watch you, they won't notice it until it's too late. Imagining feeling that for all eternity." Paula then loosened the tie. "Feels crappy, dosen't it?"
John nodded and said, "And now I want to try using ties on this bed in a different way." John laughed at his own comment and Paula smiled. John making jokes about it meant that he was now okay with it. It was even conseivable that he wasn't mad before, but merely confused. Coming out in a dress and expecting immediate acceptance maybe was a bit much for someone like John, who was now hugging her and murmering appolgies.
"Are you going to tell the others? Brian, George, Ringo?" John asked.
"Yes dear. I will."