You've Got To Hide Your Love Away - A Beatles Fanfic

Chapter 39 - I CALL YOUR NAME

••••
I call your name, but you're
not there.
Was I to blame for being unfair?
Oh, I can't sleep at night
Since you've been gone.
I never weep at night.
I can't go on.
••••

The chatter seemed constant, although John couldn't recall a single word that had been spoken over the last few hours. He had moved from the living room into the lounge at some point just to get away from the flow of people moving around the home.

In Spain, John had been nothing less than inconsolable after finding out about Ruby's death. The entire thing seemed like a dream. Filming had continued, and John had literally no choice but to stay until it wrapped up eleven days after Sandra's phone call. How he managed to make it through was mainly due to the cornucopia of chemicals he put into his body to numb the pain and compartmentalize his actions.

Now John sat in Ruby's flat, as he had for the past two days. He was lost. Sitting in Kenwood was torture with Cynthia and her questions. Going out was worse because no one could possibly know what he was going through. Ruby and John's relationship had been so secretive, so undercover, that nobody truly knew the depth of it. Paul had some inkling and had asked a few questions over the years, but John had never even given him the full details. And after Brian's role in the misunderstandings which kept them apart all that time ago, both John and Ruby had agreed to keep him in the dark in terms of their true relationship as well.

John had missed Ruby's funeral and burial due to his commitment in Spain. Because of this he had been robbed of his opportunity to say a proper goodbye. There was no finality to her being gone - just an empty, gaping hole. Ruby had been denying her illness, or at least the severity of it, for so long that the end result seemed so unreal.

For the past two days as John sat in her flat, part of him was waiting to see her walk through the front door laughing and explaining that the whole thing had been an off color joke which had gone too far. Of course that never actually happened, and the only people walking through the front door were those coming to pay their respects and offer help or condolences to Sandra and Fay.

"...and it was all just so sudden, wasn't it?" a male voice spilled into the lounge from the living room.

"It really was," a different voice agreed. "She went in hospital, and in two weeks time she was gone."

"I had no clue she was so bad off..."

John readjusted himself on the couch in an attempt to ignore the conversation in the other room. He looked over to the familiar wall of records and was suddenly flooded by the memories of the numerous times he spent in this room listening to music with Ruby.

"...or any kind of real treatment for something that spread so fast."

"It must have been incredibly severe to have taken her down so rapidly."

John leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and ran a hand through his hair. He had come into the lounge to get away from the conversations going on in the living room, but they seemed to be following him. He stood up and walked out of the lounge. For a split second he contemplated walking down the hall to Ruby's bedroom, but quickly changed his mind.

He had gone into her room on his first day back in London, and the experience had been heart wrenching. Everything in the room was exactly as Ruby had left it. Her makeup and perfumes still sat on her vanity. Her dressing gown hung on the post of the bed. Her pillow smelled of her shampoo, and John had buried his face into it with tears rolling down his cheeks. Everything in the room screamed of Ruby still being alive, except for her blaring, unending absence.

Walking past the hallway, John made his way through the living room and into the kitchen. The counters were covered with platters and dishes of food that people had brought over.

Useless, bloody food. What is it with people bringing over fucking food when someone dies? John wondered as he remembered Mimi's house being filled with gifted food items in the days following Julia's death. Who has a fucking appetite after someone fucking dies?

From the kitchen, John meandered over to the small side door. He turned the knob and suddenly found himself outside in the small garden area at the back of the house. The door closed behind him as John pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket. He stepped down the two brick stairs and then sat down on the bottom one, taking a long drag on his cigarette. The November air was chilly enough to warrant a jacket, but as he sat on the step, John simply didn't care if he was cold. If anything, the cold air helped to distract him from everything happening in his brain.

The sound of cars driving by in the distance was interrupted only by a random plane flying overhead. Other than those noises it was quiet in the back garden. Flicking ash from his cigarette, John glanced around the small yard. His gaze ultimately ended at the trellis in the far corner.

That blasted grapevine. This is where it all started.

John stood up and walked over to the grapevine, standing exactly where he had when he and Ruby first kissed just shy of three years ago.

Three years ago. Three lifetimes ago is more like it.

A flock of birds flew overhead and John looked up at them, blinking away tears that he refused to let fall. There was nothing in Ruby's flat, nothing in this garden, nothing anywhere on earth that would bring her back. And there was nothing that would ever make any of this okay.

****

The phone rang at 11:00 on the dot, just as it had the last two evenings. John picked up the receiver and brought it to his ear. The familiar voice began to speak even before John could.

"You'll be there tomorrow, yes?"

"Mmm-hmm," John affirmed.

"I think you'll be quite pleased with the showcase. It will show you how important my art is. And how important your support is, as well."

John leaned back in his chair and absentmindedly scanned his attic music room. Yoko's voice continued to drone on through the phone while John held a joint to his lips and inhaled deeply.

The phone conversations with Yoko Ono had started off as a way to simply occupy John's mind. Her voice was breathy and light, a sharp contrast to almost every other person John spoke to on a daily basis. As she went on and on about her artwork John had been able to relax and think about things other than Ruby.

He didn't care much about what Yoko said - in fact, most of it seemed quite silly. Since when did sitting in bags or letting random people cut pieces of your clothing off qualify as art? But that was part of the appeal. John didn't have to care about what she said in order for it to distract him from his feelings.

After Ruby's death the conversations had become more regular, and John's interest had been piqued. Maybe it was his vulnerable state, or maybe it was Yoko's persuasive personality, but it didn't take long before John was agreeing to help in a monetary way. From that came the showcase Yoko was currently asking about. The exhibition would be opening the day after tomorrow, and Yoko had invited John to get an early viewing before the public.

"You'll finally be able to see the importance of what I'm doing," she reiterated. "And you can see how the avante garde movement is going to be the most influential thing in our lifetime. Perhaps the most influential movement in art history."

"Yeah, I suppose I'd like to see where exactly my money is going," John replied, although he didn't actually care much about the money.

Yoko's voice droned on and on for over an hour. She spoke about art and political movements and changing the world. Before ringing off, Yoko said one last thing that stuck with John.

"Tomorrow will be the first day of your real life. You will be reborn. Art does that to people."