I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 14

Closer and closer the day of the press conference came. John, George, and Ringo actually seemed excited about it, which surprised Brian since, as you know, it had been like pulling teeth trying to convince them that it'd be a good idea.

The news was practically blowing up with stories about the "return of the Fab Four," which only added to their excitement.

Paul, though, was the exception of the three. He didn't look forward to it at all, naturally. In fact, he was secretly crumpling inside from the anxiety of it all.

He'd looked even worse in health, which was becoming a common thing, unfortunately, as Ringo in particular had noticed. His eyes were terribly bloodshot and his face still pasty. His eyes drooped even more than normal and the drummer couldn't help but think that his mate looked very tired. He just couldn't sort that out, though. How could Paul possibly be tired? He'd been resting for weeks! Something was up and Ringo intended to find out.

"Oy, Paul!" he spoke cheerfully as he approached the bassist, who was curled up on the cloth sofa reading Charles Dickens's Nicholas Nickleby, one of his favorite novels.

"Hey, Rings," he replied absentmindedly, for he was quite focused on his book.

"Watcha readin'?" Ringo diverted to as easy conversation, warming McCartney up for his real question.

"Dickens," he answered mildly with an obvious blink of his doe eyes.

"Ahh, you always were the Dickens fan, aye, Paul?" Ringo smiled as he nudged Paul's arm. "I never could get into his writing, honestly. 'Suppose it takes a bright mind to appreciate his work fully."

"Nah, just a mind willing to understand it," Paul said, his eyes still glued to the pages.

"Wise Macca," Ringo chuckled whilst studying the bassist's ill features before glancing out of the fogged-over window to see many crystals of powdering snow falling gracefully. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Hmm?" Paul asked as he looked away from his book and followed Ringo's gaze. After seeing what the drummer meant, he nodded and agreed. "It is."

"So, Paul. I wanted to ask you something," Ringo then said a bit seriously, which immediately grabbed Paul's attention. He looked up at the older man with widened eyes and gave a gesture of 'continue.'

"I was just wondering what you thought of giving interviews and stuff again. You haven't really said."

Upon hearing the words leave his friend's lips, the expression on Paul's face seemed to turn to stone. It was as if he was putting up a wall that he wasn't going to let anyone, not even Ringo, penetrate. He sighed before giving his answer in an even, mild tone.

"I think it's alright. Have to get back to it at some point, I suppose."

Ringo had sensed Paul's mood shift and his suspicions were growing more and more. He knew Paul all too well to fall for his masquerade of emotions. He wasn't stupid.

"You don't have any worries about it at all, then, do you? I always knew you were a strong lad, Macca," he said with a smile like that of a father's, knowing that his words would needle Paul in just the way he wanted them to.

Paul sat fiddling with his shirt sleeve whilst pretending to read his book as he tried to look innocent. He didn't want Ringo knowing about his weakness. He'd been weak all this time, he wasn't going to continue looking so now.

"Well, thanks, mate. My mum used to say the same thing," he answered as he faked a smile.

"I'm just glad you're doing so well! I mean, maybe I could tell Brian that we're ready for another tour!" he insisted, feigning his ambitious feelings as he watched Paul's mouth drop in surprise and his eyes widen in alarm.