Chapter 9

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A package arrived at the house today, addressed to me, but with an additional note reading: "For my beautiful Miss Molly."

Smiling at the note, I open it, and find a small card along with a record.

I read the card first, which is covered in printed golden ribbons, and pink flowers.

"You are invited to the joining of:

John Lennon & Cynthia Powell

In Holy Matrimony.

Date: 23rd August
Time: 12:30
Location: St Michael's Church, London."

I squint at the invitation and turn it over to find John's writing:

"Don't worry about flights, and hotels. I have it all sorted, and you three will stay with us."

Humming approvingly, I place the note down, then go to fish the record out.

It's their new one, "Rubber Soul."

Like the invitation, there's a note attached to it.

"Beautiful Miss Molly, this is for you. I want you to play it, so you don't forget me nor the sound of my voice. Maybe in a few years time, the lyrics will make sense, maybe they won't, but they were for you...and your wonderful mother."

Holding back tears, I place the record down, and set myself to go and feed Molly, wake Brad and get myself ready for the day ahead.

...........

Half way through the day, I lay my glasses on the desk, run my eyes and go to ring my mother, who volunteered to take Molly for the day so I could tie a few loose ends up for work. I work as a journalist, but I work from home most days.

"Hi mom, how is she?"

"Good as gold. I'm just heating her up some lunch. Do you have lunch, darling?"

"Yeah mom, thanks." I smile.

"How are things with work? Have you got much to do?" She asks, and I can hear Molly gurgle in the background

"Not much, just a little essay thing I started. No biggie." I scratch my brow and yawn, loudly enough that my mom hears.

"No offense, but you sound shattered." She chuckles.

"Yeah I am." I chuckle back. "Molly didn't stop crying all night."

"I think she's missing her daddy." Mom sighs.

"But Brad was with her all night."

"No, YN. Her real daddy." Her voice takes on a sudden seriousness, making me groan.

"Well I'm sorry but this is how it is now, and this is how it's going to stay." I state, equalling her sterness.

"I know, YN. I know."

We stay silent for a few seconds before I recall the record John sent this morning and the accompanying note.

"Oh! I forgot to say! John sent their new album and said he didn't want Moll to forget his voice. Do you think that might help with her sleeping? She doesn't seem to sleep through the night anymore..."

"It's worth a try, darling."

"Okay then. Well, I better be off, now. Might have a quick lie down."

"Alright. You deserve it." I can sense her smiling proudly at me through the phone.

We hang up, and I drag myself through to the tiny bedroom.

Norwegian WoodDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora