Into My Life

Chapter 18

       A week later, John called me from London. He'd had an uneventful trip back, but things were not great there. As he expected, Cyn wanted him to come back home and try again. She had not filed any divorce papers and his solicitor informed him that he couldn't. He had no cause. He couldn't accuse her of adultery, abandonment, or cruelty and that is what it took to have grounds for a divorce. Even if a couple mutually agreed to a divorce, someone had to take the blame or there could be no divorce. John was disgusted with the system and angry with Cyn. He understood that she hoped he would change his mind now that he was back, that she hoped that he would have had his "time off" from marriage and be ready to give it another try. He could deal with all that, but she was giving him trouble about seeing Julian. He wasn't sure if that was her solicitors' idea or hers, but it was a way of pressuring him to come back and that made him mad. They'd had a big fight over the phone, he yelled, she cried, and now wouldn't take his calls. He was furious with Cyn, her lawyers, his lawyers, the law in general.

      In spite of all that, the fact that Cyn had finally contacted a solicitor was good news since it showed she was at least considering filing for divorce. However, the down side of that was that in addition to reporters snooping around looking for information on the split, they now had lawyers snooping. Like the reporters, they were interested in any evidence of John committing adultery but they were also prying for information about his financial situation, dragging the whole Beatles organization into it. John knew there was little he could do about the financial end, but he wanted to "leak" specific and carefully chosen information about one of his affairs so she would have the grounds she needed without digging any deeper. Brian was having fits over the whole situation. He was convinced that even if John gave them the information they needed to sue on a basis of adultery, it wasn't going to end there. Reporters were buzzing around thicker than ever, knowing that what had until now just been rumor about John and Cyn being separated were confirmed because John was back in London but wasn't going home at night. They were probing into John's life more diligently than the lawyers and Brian believed any leak would become a flood. They wouldn't stop with John's personal life and it would turn into an expose of all the Beatles and every sex related thing that had gone on over the years, and it would ruin them.

       The only bright spot seemed to be that the recording sessions were going well in spite of everything. They had plans for their next album and had even had laid down tracks for a couple of songs. EMI was pushing for release of a single, so it looked as though that would take the songs they had already worked on, but the idea of doing an album was not as intimidating as it had been at the dispirited end of the last tour. The time apart seemed to have been a good idea. All of them had material they had been working on and a feeling that with time available to them now, they could turn out a decent follow-up to Revolver. Even so, they were feeling pressured - their first release as a non-touring band would have to be good to keep the Beatles at the top of the charts. To de-fuse some of that feeling, Paul was suggesting they go at it pretending to be another band. Leave all the Beatle stuff behind. Be free to try new stuff. John thought it was a daft idea, but Paul's enthusiasm was contagious. Whether or not the others wanted to join Paul in his game, they were all ready and even eager to go again.

       With the subject of Paul open, I asked, "So he is playing nice?" In our little apartment, private phone calls were difficult and I stretched the phone cord to its maximum in order to get into the bathroom and close the door.

       "He barely talks to me. But when we are working the music takes over. It is almost normal at times in the studio."

       "And otherwise?"

       John was quiet for a moment before he answered. "It isn't just Paul. None of them are exactly in my corner here."

       I was startled and John explained that although Paul was the only one obviously really pissed at him, everyone else was cool toward him too. That surprised him and irritated him. They had known all along that he had not really wanted to get married in the first place but felt he had to do the right thing when Cyn got pregnant. They had known he had never been faithful to her, so he hadn't expected them to be surprised by a divorce. "It's none of their bloody business!" he growled.

       "Maybe it is just uncomfortable for them," I suggested. "They don't know what to say."

       "Bullocks. They are just like Brian, worrying about bad publicity."

       I disagreed with him. "Paul might feel that way, but I am sure that Ringo cares more about your happiness than publicity. And you know darn well that George doesn't think your private lives are any business of the fans. If you lose fans over this, he would say "Good riddance."

       He sighed, "All I know is things are a mess."

       I felt so bad for him, but just didn't know what to say except "I'm sorry."

      "Wish you were here with me, luv. I could use a friend."

      "I would if I could," I told him.

      "No, I wouldn't let you. You could end up being named the correspondent in the divorce."

      I took a minute for that to register. I could be named as "the other woman." "Oh my God!" I gasped.

      "It's OK, Tess. Cyn doesn't know about us, and her solicitors are not going to have to look far for the evidence they need. Hell, I'll give them names and dates. There are plenty of women out there who would love to tell the world they slept with me. Or, I may ask someone to move in with me. That will keep them off you and keep the "Sex on Tour" story quiet."

       "Oh, John!" I was shaking.

       "Tess, I swear, I never thought of this. I thought I could just ask for a divorce without all this crap.  I wouldn't have let you risk this if I had known. But no one here knows and no one will. I'll go back to Cyn before I let them drag you into this."

       "John, you can't do that!"

       "I will if I have to. I'll stay awhile, screw around very publicly. Cyn won't tolerate that, and it will be over fast."

       "Oh, shit, John. This is a mess."

       "Don't worry about it Tess. No one knows. I won't let them drag you into it. I promise you that."

      "I know, John." He would take care of things. I relaxed and we talked for a while longer. He promised to call again soon and we hung up.

       I suppose I should have worried about myself, but I knew he would do his best to keep me out of it. All I worried about was how he was. With everyone giving him the cold shoulder, he would be alone. And that was something he could not tolerate. It was what made him come to Minnesota to see me in the first place. He didn't have anyone in California who cared about him and he needed someone. If things didn't improve, I knew he would go back to Cyn rather than be alone. But he would be miserable just like before. He was into drugs already, on a quest for some philosophical Holy Grail. I was afraid the quest would become a way to escape. And poor Cyn. He wouldn't stay and it would just make it harder for her to believe he wouldn't come back next time. So much for getting on with her life.

       Just a few days later, he called back. He sounded happy and said things were going great. He told me that Cyn's solicitors were recommending that she simply wait until six months had passed and file for divorce on grounds of abandonment. Apparently they realized that digging up dirt on John was kind of like killing the goose that laid the golden egg. If they caused bad publicity and the money machine was affected, Cyn wouldn't get as much of a settlement - and neither would they. John and most definitely Cyn were relieved and more than willing to wait a few more months to end it quietly. And, laughing a little, he said he'd had a little "discussion" with the others and straightened out a few things. He wouldn't explain that. Instead, he changed the subject.

       "So, are you dating anyone yet?" he asked. The same question he always asked.

       I gave him my standard answer. "Prince Charming hasn't shown up yet!"

       But this time, instead of laughing or making fun of my belief in True Love, he said, "Good. I have to make a quick trip back to the States sometime before Christmas and I want to see you again. I need to see you."

       I was speechless. It wasn't just the words, it was the way he said them. Determined, almost demanding.

      "Tess?"

      "Oh, John. I . . . I don't think . . ."

      "Roomies listening?"

      "No." Brenda was in her room studying with the door closed and Sandy was in the bathroom shaving her legs and had the radio with her blaring away. For once the coast was clear and that wasn't the reason for my hesitation.

      "But John, I don't think that is wise. The divorce."

      "I told you, she is filing on abandonment."

      "She could change her mind."

      "She won't. I don't think she would even have agreed to file if she had to use the adultery bit. All that dirt and publicity, she couldn't deal with that. This way it is half way civilized. And the lawyers are telling her this is best."

      "John, people are going to talk about us anyway if you come here."

      There were several seconds of transatlantic silence before John's voice came again, a soft question, a note in his voice that was as scary as the thought of him showing up here again. "You don't want to see me?"

      "You know better than that!"

      "Good. When do you start your Christmas Holidays?"

      I was torn between the idea of being with him again after I had thought I would never see him again and the knowledge that any publicity would be nasty.

       "Come 'ead, love," John coaxed when I didn't answer. "This is important. I want to see you again. I need to talk to you. And not over the phone."

       "Oh, John. How could we keep anyone from knowing?"

       "This trip is a financial, legal thing. There won't be any publicity about it. I'll get the movie people to meet me in . . . Where is the nearest big city?"

       I almost laughed. Minneapolis was the big city to me, but his slighting of it was right -- no one would buy a Beatle on a business trip to Minneapolis. "Chicago? It is an hour away by plane."

       "Yeah. Chicago. And we will just put it out that I had a few days between meetings and being so close, I just decided to visit you."

       I was wavering. How would it look? Because so many people had met him at the Halloween party, the press had to give some credence to the rumors that he had been in town then even if they had discounted the rumor that he had been here before that. And they knew nothing of the trip to California. One or two visits in four months simply out of friendship wasn't unbelievable, was it? I felt like a kid sneaking cookies from the cookie jar. Just one at a time so no one would notice, but unable to resist going back again and again knowing damn well someone was going to notice soon.

       "I need you, Tess," he said.

       Looking back on it, I have to wonder what I was thinking when I answered him. Seeing him again was asking for trouble. Trouble from the media, family, friends, fans. For what? Love? No, I had convinced myself that was not what John and I were about. As that thought entered my mind so did another. I had worked so hard at being with Paul - worried and cared so much about how it would work out. And look what all that had gotten me. Maybe it was time to just let go and let life happen. Stop convincing myself of anything. Stop trying so hard and worrying so much and enjoy the present.

      "All right, John," I said. "December 16." I knew the date exactly because Brenda and I were throwing an End of Semester/Christmas Party on the last day of school.

      "I'll be there," he said, and then with a quick mood change, laughingly added, "I have got a Christmas present for you I think you will really like!"

       I laughed. From the leering note in his voice it wasn't hard to guess what kind of present he was talking about. I wondered where and how we could be alone together. "One problem, John. Brenda and I are putting on a Christmas party that night. I have to go for at least a little while, but maybe you shouldn't. The less you go out . . ."

      I was thinking of safety as well as secrecy, but John focused on secrecy. "It is going to get 'round that I was there anyway and that will only make it look worse. Like we are trying to hide something. So we'll go to the party. But you won't be dancing long, lav. I promise you that. And you won't need mistletoe."

       I was once again struck by the change in his tone. There was no teasing, no sexual innuendo. He sounded serious. After I hung up, I had the definite feeling that this visit was going to change things between John and me. That scared me. If he wanted to change our relationship . . . No, he was just in such a turmoil over the divorce. He had been distracted and distant from the whole divorce mess while in the States. Going back to England had dropped him right into the middle of it. He was feeling lost and alone and needed someone to help him through it. That was all it meant. Stop worrying and analyzing and just enjoy being with him!

       Brenda and Sandy were obviously shocked and then strangely quiet when I told them he was coming. I hadn't seen The Look for a long time, but suddenly there it was. They looked at each other, sending little "I don't know, what do you think?" messages. Nothing was said for several days, but when I came home one day and put a Beatles album on, Brenda spoke up.

       "You seem really happy these days."

      "Yeah, things are going great at school and, for once, I have money for Christmas."

      "And John is coming to see you again."

      I tried to compose my face before I turned to look at her.

     "Yes. I'm really looking forward to seeing him again."

     "Terry," she said hesitantly, "Are you sure you should be doing this? "

      I wasn't sure what she meant by "this" and didn't want to know. I already had a couple of "this's" I was not sure I should be doing, thinking, or feeling. I didn't need hers.   "He needs a friend right now," I said. End of conversation. Once again, I felt bad about shutting my friends out. Especially since I had a feeling I might need all the friends I could get soon. If John wanted to go on seeing me, we were not going to be able to keep our relationship from my roommates. We would be lucky, really lucky to keep it out of the press. But once again I shoved those considerations out of my mind.

      The next two weeks were a hectic race to get ready for finals, organize the Christmas party, and get my Christmas shopping done. Another check had arrived from Tony so for the first Christmas in a long time, I had some money to spend. I got John some records - old Chuck Barry and Fats Domino 45's from a music store that specialized in hard to find oldies. I also bought myself a new dress for the party. Red. Short. Low cut. Everything guys liked in a dress, but within the bounds of good taste.

      Unfortunately, another package arrived from Tony. A big envelope with the fan mag that had my interview story in it. Just remembering the whole mess behind my agreeing to write that story, much less what started the day I interviewed Paul was bad enough, but as a bonus, the article followed "Fab new photos of the Beatles." The photo of Paul was one taken that night at the Royal Theatre. His date on his arm and happy smile on his face. The ever-present "Paul's new love?" caption was expanded on with an accompanying comment that she was an "unidentified friend who has been seen at 7 Cavendish Avenue quite frequently in recent months." Paul was reported to have laughed when asked who she was and said, " We're just good friends!" I knew it was a joke - his line from a Hard Days Night - and perhaps a bit of game playing with the reporters, refusing to make it easy for them to intrude on his private life, but even so that response set my teeth on edge. The arrogant bastard! It was all just a game to him! If my story hadn't begun on the back side of that picture I would have torn it to shreds.

      Journalistic pride won out and I shoved the magazine into the box on the floor of my closet and, in a gesture of finality, moved the box up to the top back corner of the closet shelf. I cried a few more bitter tears, this time more in anger and frustration with myself for still caring at all than in regret, then went out and bought black lacy underwear to wear with my new red dress. For John.

      Sandy and Brenda asked me if I was going to ask anyone to the dance. Aside from high school Sadie Hawkins dances, the only opportunity a girl had to ask a boy out was if she was the one having the party, but the last thing I wanted that night was a date to ditch! I did the acting job of my life.

      I sighed, looked perplexed and said, "I don't know. I don't want John to feel like a fifth wheel. And I just can't think of anyone I really want to go out with."

      Sandy came up with several suggestions and I managed to find a fatal flaw in each of those perfectly acceptable young men.   "Maybe I could ask Alan, you know - the blond guy that hangs around with Tim and Duane," I said to show I really was thinking about it. "He seems nice and I think he'd go out with me."

       "I hear that he is going with Barbara," Brenda said. I even managed a little hint of disappointment at hearing something I already knew perfectly well.

      "Well," I said with a carefree laugh. "I'll just have to pretend John is my date."

      "Hmmm," said Brenda with a speculative look.

      Brenda and I had organized the unofficial class Christmas party together the first year of school while we were living in the dorm. When we moved into the apartment, we upgraded it from an all girl after-hours bash at the dorm to a real party thanks to our landlady. Carol and her husband ran a Music and Dance School for children and every year they put on a Christmas pageant. It was a huge project for the small school, and Carol was always on the lookout for extra hands to help out. Brenda, Sandy, and I were quickly recruited to help. We decorated, put up chairs, helped dress nervous little angels and elves, seated parents, and whispered backstage directions and lines to tots with stage fright. In return, we were allowed to use the building for our party the next weekend. It was a great spot. Big room with a great floor for dancing, mirrors all along one wall, and Christmas decorations all leftover from the pageant. Last year's party had been a huge success and this, our "Third Annual" and "Final" party was something we were all excited about.

      No one was supposed to know that John would be there, but to be safe, we decided on a closed door policy. No one would get in unless they were invited guests, and if anyone wanted to leave, they would be told they would not be let back in. High schools were doing this to prevent kids from sneaking out to their cars to drink and then rejoining the party, and it would work for other purposes. The door to the office where the phone was would be locked. Once inside, no one could let the rest of Minneapolis know John was there. And I had the key to the building for the weekend. If I couldn't get Brenda and Sandy out of the apartment, there was a couch in the office -- and a grand piano in the music room. It was going to be a grand weekend!

       On Tuesday, John called to give me his flight number. With Brenda in the room I couldn't say much, but he did. He said he was really looking forward to seeing me again and he was glad I had agreed to let him come -- and that he loved me and I wouldn't regret seeing him again. Once again there was something so serious in his voice that I was thrilled and scared all at once. In spite of the fact that being with John would be asking for the wrath of my parents and a firestorm of bad press and fan reaction, the thought still made my heart pound. My mind tried to consider it. If he said he loved me, really loved me, what then? I had spent the last couple of months telling myself not to think of a future with him in it, and my mind still skittered away from any contemplation of that. Paul had taught me well. Take it one step at a time. Be careful. Well, my mind might have erected walls separating present and future, love and friendship, but my heart observed no such barriers. It kept asking me if I was ready to fall in love again. In spite of all my cool headed thoughts about the differences between us and the repercussions of daring to love John, I knew it would be really hard to turn him away. Worse, the question I had asked myself after that first night with John was looming larger and larger in my mind. Was I was selling us short ? Maybe the closeness, the trust I felt with John was what love was really about, what it needed to last. Such thoughts were not allowed to linger. Every time I found myself on that mental merry-go-round, I pulled myself away abruptly with my resolution not to think, worry, plan, analyze so much.

      On the last day of class, Brenda and I finished our last final at noon and Sandy took off work early to help get ready for the party. We rushed home, changed into blue jeans and sweaters, and fried a ton of hamburger for Sloppy Joes. I sliced pickles until my fingers puckered, and then it was time to meet John at the airport. It was a bright winter day with several inches of snow on the ground, but the roads were clear. Snow was predicted for later that night and we hoped it wouldn't keep people from coming to the party.

      We got to the airport, parked the car, and headed inside. After checking to see which gate John's flight would be arriving at, we trekked down to it, full of high spirits, vacation mood, Holiday good cheer, and, in my case, sexual anticipation mixed with a fluttering in my heart. The terminal was busier than usual with holiday travelers and I was a little worried about getting John out safely, but he had said he would have a couple of security people along with him this time -- a trip from London was a bit more complex than a six hour flight from California. Airport security was available if we needed it anyway. Nothing was going to go wrong tonight.

      We joined the group of people waiting for the flight, occupying the rows of plastic seats. As the plane taxied up and the skyway moved into place, we moved as close as we could to the entry. John had always flown first class in order to have some degree of privacy, and would be one of the first off the plane. As the first people started coming off the plane, I overheard one excited female passenger telling the couple who met her that there was a Beatle on the plane. That didn't worry me. People sitting close to John could very likely recognize him and if he talked to anyone his voice gave him away immediately. We still wouldn't have any trouble getting him out of the terminal. A second passenger was talking about "getting his autograph" as he and his family walked by us.

      People streamed out of the plane and still no John. I said to Brenda and Sandy, "Maybe he couldn't get first class tickets because of the holiday. That would explain why so many people know he was on board." And it was obvious they did. As they met their families, several of the passengers were excitedly telling them something and they all turned back to look expectantly at the entrance, all waiting.

      Brenda, Sandy and I all realized at the same time that this was not good even if John had some security people with him. It was time to get some help. We headed for the ticket counter behind us and told the attendant. "You need to get airport security over here right away!"

      She barely glanced at me and continued dialing the phone a little frantically. "They should have been here the minute the plane landed," she said. "Maybe we should just keep him on the plane until they get here."

      Well, apparently she knew who was on the plane. The pilot must have radioed in the news when he found out that the passenger listed as Arnie Arneson (John's idea of being anonymous in the Scandinavian heritage of Minnesota) was John Lennon. I started to say, "Yes, you need to do that," but just then I heard Brenda say in a funny voice, "That is one hell of a disguise!"

      I turned back and saw Paul coming through the doors.