If John Lennon had Survived

Chapter 16: This Boy...

*3 months later*

"I think we should end this session here," everyone looked up at me like like I was crazy.

"Paul," Ringo cocked his brow, "You usually want us to stay longer..."

"I know," I questioned myself, "I just feel like something's gonna happen. I mean Nancy is nine months pregnant..." I trailed off.

Almost ironically the phone began to rang.

"Hullo? John 'ere," John picked it up.

"Oh- uh- of course. Yes, I already know the hospital! Paul," John turned to me, "It's time."

I only stood where I was. My eyes were as wide as saucers, and I felt like I couldn't move. John walked over and took my bass off me.

"I- I'm coming!" I seemed to have yelled. I snapped out of my trance. John stared at me for a second and then dragged me away.

It was bright and sunny out. Perfect. It was almost as if Mother Nature knew what was happening. John and I were running like mad to the car.

"You'd better drive," John got in the passenger's seat and slammed the door. I sped off to the hospital. We knew the one. St. Judge's. Funny right? Hey Jude. St. Jude...

We rushed into the front doors of the hospital and emidiatley heard the chatter, the gasps, the movements.

"Have you had a Nancy-," I was emidiatley cut off by the receptionist.

"A pregnant lady?" I nodded, "She requested a Mr. Lennon and McCartney be taken to her room once the birth was over, she pointed to chairs for us to sit in, "It should be a while. Her report says that her contractions just ended."

We went and sat down. I was trying as hard as possible to advert my eyes from all the stares. Seconds soon turned into awkward minutes.

A young boy in a blue robe cane out with his head down. His arm was in a cast and he seemed to be getting some of those required exercises in. His head shot up and he emidiatley ran over to us.

"Philip!" A woman whom I'm guessing was his mother yelled.

"Hi mister. I love your song Jet!" he then turned to John, "And I love your song Gimme Some Truth, it reminds me of my principal," his accent was strong. His voice was high.

John smiled, "Well, how old are ye'?" The kid's smile got wider by the second.

"I just turned ten! I broke my arm on my birthday from falling out of my tree..." John whipped out a sharper and signed the cast, I did so as well. "Are you guys hurt?"

"No," I said, "we're just waiting to meet someone," his mother budged in.

"I am so sorry. I hope he didn't bother you."

"No, not at all. Hey, we can join him on his walk if you'd like," I smiled and John nodded.

"Yeah...you look tired," John leaned forward and the lady backed up a little in surprise.

"Well, I was up with him all night," the lady looked down. We needed something to do with our time. Giving birth took forever.

"How about this. We'll walk with him for about," John looked at his watch, " thirty minutes and then we'll meet you in the café," the mother smiled wide.

"Thank you so much," she knelt down to her son, " now, no personal questions and be on your best behaviour," she stood back up, " Thank you so much," we nodded and just like that she was off.

Before we knew it ten minutes of walking had easily passed. The boy asked good questions.

"How do you two get over a bad day?"