In My Life

Chapter 13:

Dusk began to approach quickly, and all the guests from the luncheon had finally left. John and Paul leaned against the gate from outside Mimi's smoking a cigarette as the orange sky began to turn dark before their eyes.

John exhaled the smoke from his cigarette while gazing over at Olivia's house. He was uncertain about her, and he knew he needed to speak to her, "Fuck, what do I do, McCartney?"

Paul chuckled, throwing his cigarette to the ground, "Apologise."

He frowned, flicking some of his cigarette ash at him, "Ah, but I'm a real arse, aren't I?" The guilt of how he behaved toward her struck him like lightning, "If I were her, I'd never forgiven me."

"Just go in there and apologise," Paul pulled out a tissue from his jacket pocket and wiped the last bit of blood from his nose, "If ya don't, then she'll never forgive ya."

While staring in the direction on her house once more, he let out a deep sigh. He just had a terrible feeling and wished he could take everything he said back, "Ah, fuck," He returned a smile to Paul, "Well, I suppose I owe ya if she forgives me then. Ya sure ya, alright?"

He pushed John in the direction of her house, "Go 'ed then already! I'll be fine."

John strolled past the gate and up the walkway to her house.  He cursed at himself the more he thought about how insensitive and cruel he was to her.  It was the day she needed his support, and he failed to provide even that.

When he got to her front door, he was just about to knock when a thought came to his mind, making him pause and stare at the door. There was that chance she wouldn't open the door and would never want to speak to him again.

They've been through a lot, but he had to make things right with her. John gave the door a quick but loud knock then waited. Every passing second that went by gave him more anxiety.

After a few minutes and no answer, he decided to give her a few days. 'Maybe I should just give her space,' he thought to himself as he turned his back to the door, contemplating whether he should stay or go.

The sound of the doorknob opening made John drop his cigarette to the ground. There she was, standing in the doorway still in the black lace dress she had worn to the funeral and barefooted.

The glare on her face said it all; she was hurt. John walked up to her, smiling at her, "Ay, love. Can I come in?"

She stood aside and raised one arm to the side. The confident smile on his face angered her, wondering what was running through his mind. Once he had stepped inside, she slammed the door behind him, causing the hairs on his arms to stand. She wasn't just mad; she was furious.

He took a seat on the blue recliner in her living room and watched her pace around, "Listen, I'm.."

She snapped her finger, pointing at John, "No, no. You don't get to speak. You've done enough of that today."

He had never seen her this angry or upset in his life, "Liv, I.."

"John," she raised her voice, "You're an absolute gobshite."

"A gobshite, ay? That's a bit harsh now," He leaned back in awe; he would have never thought he would hear that word come out of her mouth.

Olivia pressed two fingers to her forehead, trying to control her temper, "A bit harsh, ay? Me? Harsh?!" Her eyes narrowed, sending an icy glare his way, "I cannot believe what you did to me," she drew in a deep breath and sighed, making a tear fall down her cheek, "The one day," her voice raised again, "the one FUCKING day I needed you just to support me, and you're an ass, as usual."