Categories > Celebrities > Beatles > Something
Each Beatle sat down in a seat for the oncoming press conference a couple of days later. They wanted ever so badly to get out of it, but they knew doing a thoughtless action would get them into all sorts of trouble.
A majority of the questions in the beginning had been given to Ringo about his return to the band, as well as questions concerning more tensions between each members of the band. As time went on, however, the normal questions were asked--how much work had been done on their new new album, when it would come out, etc.
“Mr. Harrison,” a reporter piped. “There have been rumors of your wife, Pattie Boyd, having a miscarriage quite recently. Are they true?”
George felt his cheek grow warmer, and his throat dry. How the hell did they know anything about his and Pattie’s attempts to have children? The reporter stared into him impatiently as he slowly cleared his throat. “Y-Yes,” he squeaked. Wait, what was he doing? Why was he telling these strangers about something so personal?
“Is there any known reason why?” another reporter asked. “Health problems, perhaps?”
George flared his nostrils a little. This was one reason he hated the press; they were always trying to burst each of their bubbles. Paul looked at him and back at the crowd in front of them, sneaking his hand on George’s leg to try to calm him down.
George sighed and kept his eyes on the table. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t keep them waiting, and he didn’t want to say too much. He especially didn’t want to hurt Pattie with his words. He finally made a decision and looked up at the nosey reporter.
“I do,” he lied. “I... Smoking... It really does stuff to you... Everywhere...” He looked back at the table in defeat, flaring his nostrils even more. Paul looked back at the crowd as they asked more questions, mainly for John and Paul, and casually lifted his arm to George’s shoulder. It wasn’t until about an hour or so later that they were able to leave.
~~~
A week or so after that incident passed by, and George came home to a quiet house. “Pattie?” he called, wondering where his wife could be. “Pattie, are you here?”
He walked up to their bedroom and peeped in. “Pa--oh, there you are.” Pattie sat on their bed, looking at a magazine. The look on her face as she read was blank. He sat down next to her and kissed her head. “Whatcha got there?”
“This... This magazine... It has an article about your recent... Press conference...”
George licked his lips nervously. “Oh really?” he asked. “What’d you find?”
Pattie looked up at him. “You told them. You told them about the miscarriage...”
“Pattie...”
“Why would you do that?! I thought you don’t like the press knowing about our personal lives! Why did you bring it up?!”
“I didn’t! They did!”
“How’d they find out?!”
“I don’t know!”
They sat in silence. George sighed. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said as he got off the bed.
“Wait... George...” George stopped and turned to her. Pattie looked at the magazine again. Many times she opened her mouth to say something, but barely any words would come out. “I... You... They... Why... It’s...” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The article... It also says... It was your fault...” George stared at his feet. “It says... You’re the one with health problems... But... That’s not true...”
“I know,” George said, slowly walking back to her. “I... I don’t know what got into me... They asked about it, and I said it was true that it happened... They asked if we knew why it happened...”
“Then... Why did you say it’s your fault?” Pattie looked up at George with the confused eyes of a doe.
George licked his lips again. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I didn’t want them to get all over you about it...”
Pattie stared into his eyes, switching from one to the other. She then looked down at his shirt and closed her eyes again. Then, she hugged him tight. “You... Y-You didn’t have to...”
George, a little stunned by her sudden embrace, rubbed her back. She looked back up at him, and he cleared the hair in her eyes. “I know I didn’t have to, Pattie-cake... I did cos I love you... I care for you... I shouldn’t have talked about it in the first place...”
She smiled softly and kissed his cheek. She climbed into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. He rocked her gently in his arms and smiled as well. He giggled as he felt her nose nuzzling his neck ever so slightly. Then, as soft as the wind, she whispered, “I love you.”
A majority of the questions in the beginning had been given to Ringo about his return to the band, as well as questions concerning more tensions between each members of the band. As time went on, however, the normal questions were asked--how much work had been done on their new new album, when it would come out, etc.
“Mr. Harrison,” a reporter piped. “There have been rumors of your wife, Pattie Boyd, having a miscarriage quite recently. Are they true?”
George felt his cheek grow warmer, and his throat dry. How the hell did they know anything about his and Pattie’s attempts to have children? The reporter stared into him impatiently as he slowly cleared his throat. “Y-Yes,” he squeaked. Wait, what was he doing? Why was he telling these strangers about something so personal?
“Is there any known reason why?” another reporter asked. “Health problems, perhaps?”
George flared his nostrils a little. This was one reason he hated the press; they were always trying to burst each of their bubbles. Paul looked at him and back at the crowd in front of them, sneaking his hand on George’s leg to try to calm him down.
George sighed and kept his eyes on the table. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t keep them waiting, and he didn’t want to say too much. He especially didn’t want to hurt Pattie with his words. He finally made a decision and looked up at the nosey reporter.
“I do,” he lied. “I... Smoking... It really does stuff to you... Everywhere...” He looked back at the table in defeat, flaring his nostrils even more. Paul looked back at the crowd as they asked more questions, mainly for John and Paul, and casually lifted his arm to George’s shoulder. It wasn’t until about an hour or so later that they were able to leave.
~~~
A week or so after that incident passed by, and George came home to a quiet house. “Pattie?” he called, wondering where his wife could be. “Pattie, are you here?”
He walked up to their bedroom and peeped in. “Pa--oh, there you are.” Pattie sat on their bed, looking at a magazine. The look on her face as she read was blank. He sat down next to her and kissed her head. “Whatcha got there?”
“This... This magazine... It has an article about your recent... Press conference...”
George licked his lips nervously. “Oh really?” he asked. “What’d you find?”
Pattie looked up at him. “You told them. You told them about the miscarriage...”
“Pattie...”
“Why would you do that?! I thought you don’t like the press knowing about our personal lives! Why did you bring it up?!”
“I didn’t! They did!”
“How’d they find out?!”
“I don’t know!”
They sat in silence. George sighed. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said as he got off the bed.
“Wait... George...” George stopped and turned to her. Pattie looked at the magazine again. Many times she opened her mouth to say something, but barely any words would come out. “I... You... They... Why... It’s...” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The article... It also says... It was your fault...” George stared at his feet. “It says... You’re the one with health problems... But... That’s not true...”
“I know,” George said, slowly walking back to her. “I... I don’t know what got into me... They asked about it, and I said it was true that it happened... They asked if we knew why it happened...”
“Then... Why did you say it’s your fault?” Pattie looked up at George with the confused eyes of a doe.
George licked his lips again. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I didn’t want them to get all over you about it...”
Pattie stared into his eyes, switching from one to the other. She then looked down at his shirt and closed her eyes again. Then, she hugged him tight. “You... Y-You didn’t have to...”
George, a little stunned by her sudden embrace, rubbed her back. She looked back up at him, and he cleared the hair in her eyes. “I know I didn’t have to, Pattie-cake... I did cos I love you... I care for you... I shouldn’t have talked about it in the first place...”
She smiled softly and kissed his cheek. She climbed into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. He rocked her gently in his arms and smiled as well. He giggled as he felt her nose nuzzling his neck ever so slightly. Then, as soft as the wind, she whispered, “I love you.”
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