Linda’s really got a way of bringing John and I together. After the terrible fighting of the Let It Be sessions, we knew the band was over. We knew we were going to be making one last record. Abbey Road. An album that the four of us have agreed to put aside our differences on, and “Come Together,” as John sings in the opening track. We agreed to work on it the way we used to work on our old records, before the constant fighting.
And not only do I find myself enjoying the studio again, but I find myself enjoying John’s company like I used to, back before things got too complicated, when we were still only friends. He’s back to making easy jokes around the studio, and creating music so perfect it makes my heart swell. And this time, when we get to talking alone, we can talk about real life issues, like peace from the Vietnam War. But John avoids the topic of Yoko, and I avoid the topic of Linda. And neither of us mention each other, like it never happened. Now, we’re just friends.
But, at the same time, we’re still friends with that unspoken connection we felt right from the early days, even before we had an album out. I can still look into his eyes, read the twinkle he sends me, and feel like he’s just reminded me of an inside joke. We can strum chords together without having to speak the progression out loud. We just feel them, in perfect synchronization.
And the harmonies make my heart soar. To hear John’s voice truly against mine for the first time in far too long makes me smile. And Linda has been noticing. She’s noticing the hope I’m massing, the hope that maybe, one day, after a break, the Beatles will play together again. That we’ll go to America or something, and sing to a sold-out stadium of screaming fans, and then introduce a new song to them, one we’ve just written. The fantasy cannot help itself. It just continues to grow, festering on the good memories I’ve started to pack up yet again.
Linda sits behind a lens on the few days she comes into the studio with us, clicking off photos of us working. I can especially hear the click go when we’re laughing, and the camera just makes me want to laugh more, to be happier again, so that all the world will understand how right it is for me to be with John Lennon, as the most perfect songwriting duo ever to walk the Earth.
Looking at the photos is even an entirely different thing. Linda and I go down into our little dark room in the basement we now share, and she teaches me how to develop them: which chemicals to use, how to change the contrast, how to focus the projectors so the photos are crystal clear. How to crop them if need be.
“Linda!” I call from a stool in the dark room, intent on focusing a picture of John and I sitting on a couch, laughing. “I can’t seem to get this one focused.”
She looks into the eyepiece of the little magnifying device and moves it over just slightly, then focuses it there. Then she gestures for me to look in, to see how beautifully focused she has it, so I can see each little grain in the photo crisply.
“Thanks,” I say. “This is why you do photography and I stick to music.”
She laughs, and I grin at her, feeling happy beyond words. Today is a good day. The dim lighting of the dark room soothes me, as does the slightly sulfuric smell of the chemicals. Maybe I’ll go into my studio later tonight and work on something. But right now, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than working on developing photos with Linda, especially ones that make me so happy to see.
I slip a piece of photo paper inside the photo easel where I have the negative focused to and create a test strip. Linda can estimate how many seconds to keep the projector on for and what filter to use to get a better contrast, but it’s all trial and error for me now. So I create a test strip, develop it in the developer, dip it into the other two chemicals quickly, and then bring it outside into the light and look at it before the photo deteriorates. Throwing out the photo on the way back in, I adjust the timer accordingly and develop a portion of the photo, just a bit of John’s face, and then decide on a contrast filter. Linda helps me readjust the timer.
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
Yesterday (McLennon)
ФанфикAfter John is murdered, Paul has to learn to live without him, all while trying to sort through the memories of the relationship they had during their time with the Beatles.
