“It’s nice to see you,” I said awkwardly.

I hadn’t expected he’d be here.  I’m not quite sure how I felt about it, actually.  I mean, George and I had been divorced for nearly two years, but our marriage had dissolved years before that.  After all, I’d been living with Eric for five years before he’d finally made an honest woman of me a few months ago.  I knew that George and Eric had stayed close despite what could have been very awkward circumstances, but I’d played coward and had managed to avoid my ex husband nearly the entire time I’d been with Eric.  Except for a brief court appearance for the divorce, I’d not seen George since the day I’d moved out of Friar Park!

He looked fabulous, simply incredible, and I wondered if I’d done the right thing by completely avoiding him.  Absence does make the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it?  And my heart was simply giving me fits, it was pounding so hard!  His curly hair was very unusual to my eye, but a good look on him, and the mustache looked good as well.  That lean figure looked utterly elegant in a pale linen suit and dark button front shirt; he was dressed casually, yet smartly, for the occasion. 

How odd that he’d come, it was very…… unexpected.  I think I’d sent the invitation card simply as a formality, to be nice.  I’d never in a million years expected he’d come to the party.  After all, how many ex husbands attend a wedding reception for an ex wife?

“Nice t’ see ya, too, Pattie,” he said with that smile that still affected me, even after all we’d been through.  “Ya look good.  Errrr, don’ think you’ve met Livy, ‘ave ya?” he asked.

I smiled brightly at the lovely little dark woman at his side.

“Hello, Pattie, it’s a lovely party,” she said, her American accent quite strong despite her very soft and sweet voice.

She had a somewhat nervous smile, I thought.  It must not be very easy for her to meet “the ex wife”.  I felt a bit sorry for her.  But truthfully, it really wasn’t much easier for me to meet “the new wife”!  I wondered if she likewise thought that my smile was a nervous one?  I tried to smooth it out, make it more natural, but I’m afraid I must have failed dismally.

“How do you do, Olivia?  It’s a pleasure,” I managed to say.

I wasn’t quite sure what else to say, but their little boy started to fuss, and I was able to turn my attention to him with a bit of relief mixed with heartache that I hope was well concealed. 

“Is this….. Donny?  Is that his name?” I asked.  Of course, I knew the actual spelling, but I wasn’t exactly certain how to pronounce it.

“It’s Dhani,” she replied with a smile.

Olivia gracefully knelt and picked the child up from the stroller, then bounced him on her hip, and the little fellow began to laugh.  George looked at them with a tender smile and such love in his dark eyes that my breath caught in my throat.  I didn’t remember the last time he’d looked at me like that; had he ever?  Would he have looked at me like that if I could have borne him a child?  It was a heartbreaking question, and I tried to get a grip on myself.

“How old is your son?” I asked, knowing full well how old he was, to the day, the hour, the minute.

“He’s nine and a half months,” the happy mother replied.

Actually, it was nine months and nineteen days, seven hours and …… well, I suppose I’d lost track of the minutes.  And George and Olivia had been married eight months and seventeen days.  I never did know the hours and minutes, I suppose months and days were enough to know about that.  I mean, I’m not obsessive about this. 

Not really.

“He’s a beautiful little boy,” I told her truthfully, and she simply beamed at me, all nervousness apparently forgotten in her joy over her husband and son.

I tried to ignore my breaking heart.  It’s simply not proper for the bride to be heartbroken at her own wedding reception, and certainly not over her ex husband. 

Was George doing this on purpose?  Was he having a few final digs at me?  ‘Look at what I’ve got, you couldn’t supply me with what I wanted, and now I have it without your help’?  I looked at him quickly; no, that face couldn’t lie to me, he wasn’t gloating, he was simply happy; happy like I’d never seen him before.  I suppose I had to be happy for him as well. 

Happy, happy, happy, we were all such a happy group here, weren’t we?  Yes, quite the happy little gathering, the ex husband with his new wife and child…… and the barren ex wife. 

I hoped I was doing a good job of hiding my misery.

I suppose it was all my fault for inviting him, but he and Eric were still such friends that I really couldn’t avoid sending him the invitation card.  Still, I’d never thought he’d attend.  And certainly not with his budding family.  Oh, this was sheer torture.  I’d never thought it would be so difficult.  Would we have remained together if I’d been able to have a child?  Why hadn’t we adopted, if it had been that important?  But no, I’d always thought ‘some day’.  Some day, we’d conceive.  Some day, we’d be parents. 

Some day never came.

And now I was face to face with my failure.  My failure.  I’d always held out hope that the fault wasn’t mine.  It was apparent now that I’d been deluding myself all along.  What did that mean for the future?

I realized that the conversation had lagged for far too long, and I cast about desperately for something to say.  Something, anything!  Thankfully, formality was on my side and I was able to talk about inconsequential things; the lovely weather we’d been enjoying, the latest football scores, things of that nature.  That didn’t last long, unfortunately.

“Have you had something to eat?” I asked in desperation.  “There’s a lovely buffet set up, please be sure to help yourselves.  The table on the right is strict vegetarian, the one on the left near the fountain is mixed.  The punch on that table,” I added, pointing, “is made with champagne, but the others are alcohol-free.” 

That was it, I was finished and I wanted desperately to leave this happy little gathering.  I had no idea of what else I could say, I’d simply run out of small talk.  Thank God for Eric, he spotted us from across the garden, zeroing in on us with a wide smile.

“George!” he shouted, causing heads to turn all about the garden.

I nearly died of embarrassment.  At least he didn’t shout again, but there were definite eyes upon him as he approached our little group.  I wondered what the papers would print the next day.  Would they have a photo of us all together like this?  What kind of horrid, nasty things would they make up about us?  I looked around sharply, wondering where there might be a hidden camera, looking for an unfamiliar face that might be observing and taking notes.  I kept the smile on my face with difficulty.

Eric clapped his old friend on the back and shook his hand.  “Glad ya made it, ol’ man, how are ya?  Hullo, Livy, ‘ere, lemme hold Dhani fer a bit, right?  C’mon, lad, come see yer Uncle Eric!” 

Uncle Eric?  My husband gave Olivia a kiss on the cheek and took the baby, bouncing him high into the air while the little boy giggled.  It was heart-wrenching to suddenly realize how close Eric was to the three of them, and especially depressing to see his smile as he played with their little boy. 

What did the future hold for me, for us? 

Somehow, I kept smiling as I turned away with a comment about checking on the cake.  I hope I left gracefully enough, but I simply had to leave; I was afraid I’d break down into tears and that would certainly make the newspapers.  I had no rose coloured glasses in place any longer where the tabloids were concerned.  Smile firmly in place, I escaped into the house and found myself a quiet room away from the noise of the party before I finally allowed myself the luxury of a good cry.

I was trying to repair the damage to my makeup when there was a knock on the door.  It was probably my sister Jenni, she was always watching out for me.

“Come in, Jen,” I called as I heard the door open just a crack.

“’s not Jen, it’s me,” said George.  “Are ya decent, love?” 

I had nowhere to run, and I simply stared at the door as it came open and I saw him peek around it.  His smile faded when he caught sight of me, and he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“What’s all this about, pet?” he asked quietly, holding his arms open, his chocolate brown gaze questioning and worried.

Without thought, I went to him and into his arms, trying not to sob on his shirt.  He was very sweet about it, he simply held me close and made soothing noises, as if he was trying to comfort a child or a frightened kitten.  Ah, the memories, it was so hard to shut them out, so I gave in to them for a short, self-indulgent moment before finally trying to pull myself back together.

“Feel better?” he asked.

I nodded and returned to the mirror to try to repair the additional damage that had been done to my makeup.  Thankfully, I was never one of those women who go all red-faced and blotchy when they cry.  My eyes were a bit red, though, and I looked about for some drops.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?” he asked, still standing by the door where I’d left him.

I found the drops in a drawer and concentrated on getting them in before answering.

“I suppose it’s just a bit overwhelming,” I said, hoping he’d think I was talking about the party.  He simply looked at me, with that deep, dark gaze that knew me so intimately.

I finally replied, obliquely, “She’s lovely, George, seriously.  And your little boy is wonderful.”  I took a breath and the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.  “I suppose I’m a bit envious.” 

I could have slapped myself.  He didn’t seem to know what to say, and I felt like a witch for opening my mouth without thinking. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said……”

“Nah, it’s awright, love.”  He gave am embarrassed little laugh.  “If ya can’t talk t’ me, who can ya talk to?”  He cleared his throat.  “Does Eric know that ya can’t……?”

I shook my head and quickly interrupted him.  “No, we really haven’t discussed it, George.  And I was never certain if it was a fault with me or with you.”  I shrugged unhappily.  “Until now, anyway.  I suppose that question has certainly been settled.  There doesn’t appear to be any problem with your side of the equation, Dhani’s living proof of that.  I have to assume the fault lies with…… me.” 

I could feel the tears welling up again, and I fought them down.  But I couldn’t stop myself from continuing.

“Oh, God, George, what am I going to do if I really can’t have a child?” I wailed.  “It’s simply horrible to face the fact that my body can’t seem to do the basic thing that makes me a woman.  What if Eric decides he wants one and I can’t have one with him?  I lost you because of that, I’m going to lose him, too, aren’t I?”

“Ah, Pattie, love, ya know that wasn’t th’ whole reason we drifted apart,” he said, looking around for a place to sit, and finally, gingerly sitting on the edge of the dresser; all the chairs were piled with leftover decorations for the party.  “We had problems besides just that.”

I nodded tearfully.  “I know, but that didn’t help.  Can you honestly tell me we’d still have drifted apart if we’d been able to have a child?”

He shook his head.  “I can’t say, Pattie, nobody can say that, pet.  But ya can’t try an’ second-guess things, ya can’t do th’ game o’ what if’s.  Doesn’t work that way, it’ll just make ya crazy.  Ya gotta live fer t’day, not fer yesterday an’ not fer t’morrow.  Ya just have t’ play th’ cards yer dealt……”

“We’re talking about life, not a card game,” I snapped, turning back to the mirror and brushing my hair for lack of something better to do.  I could see him in the mirror, sitting precariously on the dresser edge.

“Yeah, but th’ concept’s th’ same,” he said with that crooked grin that made me want to slap him.  Or kiss him.  Better the former than the latter, I thought, and I took my anxiety out on my hair. 

“Easy, gurl,” he continued, “yer gonna rip yer hair out by th’ roots like that, lemme do it.”

Before I could say anything, he left the dresser and came up behind me, taking the brush from me and brushing my hair like he used to do so many years ago.  I had to swallow the emotions I was feeling, it would do no good to either of us if I admitted to still loving him. 

I drew in a sharp breath as I realized what I’d just thought.  Is that what this was all about, then?  Was I still in love with my ex husband?  Had I made a huge mistake?  What if I hadn’t left?  What if I’d tried harder to patch things together?  What if, what if, what if?

I stood still and closed my eyes, letting myself simply luxuriate in the sensation of having my hair brushed like this, listening to his voice as he talked.

“Ya know, sweetheart, thur’s no telling what might have happened if we’d stayed t’gether……  Might ‘ave been bad, might have been good, who’s t’ say?  Things happen fer a reason……”

His voice faded and I simply relaxed as the brush strokes worked to soothe my jittery nerves.

***

I sighed when the brush strokes stopped.

“Thur ya go.”

“Thank you, that was lovely,” I replied, feeling very much relaxed and in a better frame of mind. 

Until I opened my eyes, that is.  I simply froze in place when I looked in the mirror, it was a totally different mirror than I’d been facing only moments ago.  And my dress, my hair, they were all different.  I hadn’t worn makeup like this, or a skirt this short, in…… in years!  What on earth……?

George stepped out from behind me and I nearly jumped in alarm when I saw him in the mirror.  He hadn’t sported a beard just a moment ago, had he?  No, certainly not, he’d had a mustache and curly hair!  Dear God, what was happening?  He looked younger, as well as heavily bearded.  I looked younger, too!  I was struck dumb, probably a good thing, because if I’d started babbling, who knows what he would have thought!

“Ya ready, then?” he asked impatiently.

“Errrr, ready?” I managed.

He grew more impatient, I could easily see it in his eyes.  The beard definitely hid his expressions, but his eyes were easy to read.

“Yeah, Pattie, keep yer wits ‘bout ya, gurl,” he growled.  “This is really important!  Th’ car’s here t’ take us t’ th’ show.  Are ya ready?”

My eyes darted about the room uncertainly, an obvious hotel room and probably American from the sterile look of it.  My gaze fell on a suit lying on the bed.  A white suit, with a rust coloured silk shirt?  The concert for Bangladesh.  It was the first of August in 1971.  How was this possible?  I must be dreaming!  The concert had happened nearly eight years ago!

“Pattie!”

I jumped at his barked command.  He was terribly nervous, I could see it in his stance as well as remember it from 1971; he hadn’t played before an audience in years and was dead frightened of it, but determined to do his bit to help Ravi.  Wait, how did I know all this?  Eight years ago, that wasn’t right, what was I thinking?  This was happening now!  I was horribly confused, how does one remember something that hasn’t happened yet? 

Could I be having a flashback, an acid flashback?  I’d heard of them, of course, but never experienced one, thank God.  And I hadn’t done a lot of LSD in the 60’s, but even once would be enough to trigger a flashback, I suppose. 

I took a breath and nodded shakily, I didn’t want him any angrier with me, that was for certain!  He was always fairly mellow and never physically abusive, but when it came to this concert, he was a definite bundle of nerves.

“Good, let’s go, then,” George growled, stalking to the door.

I followed him, then flinched back from the glare he gave me.  Oh, right!  I hurried back to the bed and picked up his suit on the hanger and then followed him out the door and down to the waiting car that had been hired to take us to Madison Square Gardens.  I remained quiet during the drive, and George was tense and jittery, looking out the window at the city.  I decided I’d best simply ‘go with the flow’ for lack of anything better.  This certainly seemed real, and I wondered what was in store for me.  Why was I here?  What was happening?

Upon our arrival at the Gardens, we were ushered to a dressing room and there began a parade of principals and friends and musicians into the room, some of whom I hadn’t met, some of whom I hadn’t seen for ages.  Wait, I knew all of them, what was I saying?  But I knew them from this concert, had met them here seven or eight years earlier……  No, that wasn’t right, either, was it?  I was meeting them now, I hadn’t met them years prior!  Oh, this was enough to give me a miserable headache!  I vowed to stop thinking, I’d simply go mad if I continued to think in circles like this.

Richard came into our dressing room and he gave me a ‘hello’ hug.  I clung to him for a moment, drawing from his steady, calm strength.  I hadn’t seen him in years…… no, that was wrong, if this really was 1971, then we saw him quite often during that year!  Oh, my headache was getting worse.

“You awright, love?” he asked, his blue eyes staring deeply into mine.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.

“Ya sure?” he persisted.

I nodded again, a bit more hesitantly.  Richard always had the ability to read me so easily.  He drew me off to a quiet corner of the room, although ‘quiet’ is relative, the entire room and surroundings were charged with energy and noise.

“What’s wrong, Pattie?” Richard asked quietly, his hands on my shoulders and holding me steady.

“Ritchie, I think I’m having a flashback,” I whispered to him.

He blinked in surprise.  “Yeah?”

I nodded.

“Well, don’t panic, ya want me t’ get ya a doctor or sommat?  Everything’s gonna be jus’ fine, love, there’s nothin’ t’ be scared ‘bout.”

“I’m not frightened,” I lied.  “I just…… it’s very hard to explain, I think I’ve been here before,” I finally explained.

“Oh, kind of a déjà vu all over again, eh?” he asked. 

Those blue eyes were so vivid and kind.  I thought again that I hadn’t seen him for several years and I wondered if I’d see him again in the future.  Which future?  The one that had happened, or the one that might yet happen?  Oh dear, I was doing it again!  Thinking!  I had to stop doing that!  I was so confused I felt near tears.  Richard put his arms around me and hugged me, holding me for several minutes.  It was incredibly comforting, and I relaxed in his embrace.  When he finally released me, I felt somewhat steadier.  Richard’s presence was always a comfort.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Ya gonna be awright?  Need me t’ get anybody t’ stay with ya?”

I shook my head.  The last thing I wanted was a doctor or nurse asking me questions and trying to pry answers out of me.  I had no idea what I’d tell someone like that, and I didn’t want to face any questions they might ask.

Richard looked at me seriously, those incredible blue eyes so bright and caring. 

“I’ll check in on ya, but I can’t do it during th’ shows, love.  So ya gotta tell me if ya need sommat, ok?  Promise you’ll talk t’ me if ya need anythin’, love?”

I nodded, impulsively giving him another hug.  “Thank you, Richard,” I told him.

“Ringo!”

The command was barked from the noisier part of the dressing room.  We both turned towards it.  George was bouncing on his toes, an attempt at a grin peeking out in stark whiteness through his beard.  The poor man was definitely and decidedly nervous.

“If yer done makin’ out with me wife, let’s go, sound check, man!”

Richard laughed at George’s comment, but I’m certain I blushed.  I followed them out to the wings of the stage and watched as instruments and microphones were checked.

“Whur’s Eric?” George growled.

“Dressin’ room,” someone answered.

“Pattie, go an’ get ‘im, gurl, don’t jus’ stand thur!”

I raced off to do my master’s bidding, fretting over the way he could order me about like a dog.  And over the way I simply followed his command.

I found Eric in his dressing room with a girl he’d brought over from England.  He’d just done some drugs, whatever his choice de jour was, and he was glassy eyed and languid.  I had utterly mixed feelings seeing him like this; I pitied the man desperately, he was simply at the end of his rope.  And I loved him as well.  Oh, this was awful!  Stop thinking, I scolded myself, just try to get through this in one piece!

I got Eric to his feet and started walking him towards the stage.

“Pattie, love,” he said quietly, slurring his words, “I can’t take th’ pain any longer, ya can’t keep me in misery like this.  I need ya, gurl, ya gotta know that…...”

“I’m married,” I gritted out, taking a bit more of his weight and trying to hurry him along.

“Yeah?  Guess so,” he replied laconically.  “But Hari doesn’t make ya happy, I can see it in yer eyes, yer ol’ man’s let ya down.  Can see it in his eyes, too, ‘e’s not happy either.”

I stopped, pulling him to a halt.  “Will you please quit?” I asked, shaking him impatiently.  I felt as if I was in a play, following a script that had been laid down for me.  I didn’t remember this conversation happening, had it really occurred?  In the past, I mean?  Oh, I was thinking again, I simply had to stop that; this was driving me insane!

With his back against the wall on which he was leaning, Eric slid down to the floor, although I tried to prevent it.

“Ya got me on my knees, baby.  I’m beggin’, darlin’, please……”

“Don’t be quoting lines from that song to me, Eric, I simply won’t have it,” I snapped at him, and I roughly hauled him back to his feet, using a strength I didn’t know I had.  The song simply haunted me, tearing at my emotions and stability, and I didn’t want to hear him pleading with me like this.  This was difficult enough!

“Ease my worried mind, Pattie.”  His voice was low and hypnotic.  “I’ll kill meself if ya don’t, Pattie, ya know I will, there’s nothin’ worth livin’ without ya,” he added, casting a sly glance at me.

I suppose I’d forgotten about all the emotional blackmail he’d used on me back then.

“Stop it, Eric!  I don’t want to hear that!” I whispered angrily; we were getting close to the stage and I didn’t want anyone overhearing us.  “You’ve got to go on stage now, straighten up!”

“I’ll straighten up only if ya promise t’ talk t’ me after th’ show, love,” he slurred.

I agreed out of desperation, and he slouched his way onto the stage, picking up his guitar and strumming it.  He became another man when the guitar was in his hands, and I watched him as they completed the sound check.  He caught me watching and winked at me, a smile of satisfaction breaking out on his face.

I resolutely avoided looking at him after that.  Damn, damn, damn!  I was simply mad and this was the strangest, most realistic dream I’d ever had.  It was frightening.  What was happening to me?  The more I thought of it, the more panicked I became, and Richard must have seen it in my eyes when he came off stage; he took me by the hand and pulled me back into the relative quiet of the dressing room.

“Pattie, love, ya sure ya don’ want me t’ get a doctor?  Or a nurse?  Sommat?” he asked in concern.

I broke down in tears and he gathered me in his arms, patting me on the back.

“I shouldn’t be here, I’m supposed to be in the future, nearly eight years ahead, at the reception of my wedding to Eric,” I blurted, tears falling and nearly choking me with the force of the emotion.  “I don’t know what to do right now, should I try to change things and work everything out with George, or continue the path I’m on and start seeing Eric?  I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t know what to do!  I love them both.”

“Shhh, shhhh, easy, love, easy, sounds like a pretty weird trip t’ me, Pattie,” Richard said soothingly, not appearing at all shocked by my words.  That was so typically Richard, rock solid to the core, that I had to smile.  He smiled back at me.

“There’s th’ girl, that’s right, smile, love, yer gonna be awright.  A flashback’s just a little trip, wouldn’t worry ‘bout it.  Yer not from th’ future, yer right where yer s’posed t’ be, everything’s fine, Pattie,” he continued calmly.  “Yer married t’ George, not Eric, there’s no reception.  That’s jus’ a fantasy, part o’ th’ trip, but it’s nothin’ t’ be scared of.  It’s just yer mind playin’ tricks with ya, love, that’s all.  Th’ future’s not here yet, so jus’ relax an’ play th’ cards yer dealt, th’ future’s gonna be here soon enough.  Nobody knows what t’morrow’s gonna bring, don’ be rushin’ through yer life wonderin’, ‘cause it’ll be here before ya blink twice, an’ you’ll know what it brings when it gets ‘ere.”

I tried to do as he suggested, tried to relax and tell myself that the past seven or eight years hadn’t happened, but it simply wasn’t working.  All my commands to myself to stop thinking weren’t working at all, and it was all I could think about!  If I refused Eric, would I change the future?  Or rather, the past?  The past’s future?  Would George and I stay together?  And if that happened, then what about Olivia and their beautiful son Dhani?  And what about me and Eric, the chance for our future together?

My mind was in a whirl when Richard was called away, and I smiled at him reassuringly, trying to keep from worrying him any further as I dashed the final tears from my eyes.

“Thank you, Richard, I’m fine, really, thanks for……thanks for your advice.”

He smiled, obviously worried about me, but the show was on his mind, and I shoo’ed him away with another smile.  Then I gathered my resolve, made my decision and went to Eric’s dressing room, sent his little girlfriend away on some errand or other and sat down with my…… my husband’s best friend.

“You have to forget about me, Eric,” I said bluntly.  “I’m simply not interested in you.  I want you to stay away from me, I want nothing to do with you.  I’m absolutely sincere about this, and I want you to obey my desires.  I’m married to George and I intend upon staying true to my wedding vows.  Stay away from me, do you understand?”

Eric was shattered.  He pleaded, he begged, he threatened, he told me stories about George and other girls that nearly broke my heart, but I couldn’t allow myself to waver.  The whole scene nearly shattered me as well and I had to turn my heart to stone; it was extremely difficult for me to tell Eric I wasn’t interested in him.  Whether this was flashback or reality, my mind and heart insisted that Eric and I had a history together, and I knew in my heart that I really did love this man.  But if this was a second chance, I needed to give it a try, to see if George and I could stay together this time; knowing what I did about the future (or the past, whatever you want to call it), I had to try.  But I think my heart was breaking over Eric as well.

What absolute heartache, to love two men at the same time.

I left Eric and went back to George’s dressing room.  My feelings were completely in turmoil.  Was I doing the right thing, would there be unpleasant repercussions?  What would the future bring?  Would I be able to salvage my marriage?  And how could I do that?  I had a glimmer of an idea, but I wondered if I’d ever be able to forget Eric.  God, this was simply heartbreaking!

The time passed quickly, thank heavens, and there was so much going on that I didn’t really have a lot of time to think.  The afternoon concert began pretty much as they’d planned it.  Ravi and his Indian friends opened the show and did a marvelous job of it, they were simply fantastic!  I gave George a kiss for luck as he went on stage in his white suit, and he looked startled at my action.  Had it been so long since I’d offered him some affection?  He stopped, then turned back nervously and hugged me tight with near rib-cracking force, which I welcomed as a possible precursor of things to come.  Had it been so long since he’d offered me some affection?  I suppose so.

“George, perhaps we can talk after the show?” I asked as my glimmer of an idea came forth in full bloom.

He paused, a perplexed look on his face.  “What about?” he asked impatiently.

“I was thinking about perhaps…… adopting a baby,” I said quickly.

He was stunned; his expression was nearly comical, it was so surprised.  “Ya can’t drop that on me like this, Pattie!  Bloody hell, I’ve got a fuckin’ show t’ do right now!”

He rushed out on stage, but my worry about ruining his concentration was relieved as I watched from the wings, full of pride.  George was marvelous, and the other musicians as well.  But…… where was Eric?  This hadn’t happened in the past, had it?  I mean, in the future’s past?  Eric had been on stage for both shows, I was certain of it!

Reluctantly, I walked the back halls to his dressing room.  I knocked on his door, but there was no answer.  I knocked again, and finally opened the door, peeping ‘round the corner.  Eric was on the couch, the girl sprawled over him and partially on the floor.  Drunk, then, or stoned or high or whatever.  I ignored my weeping heart and quietly closed the door, returning to my position in the wings to watch the remainder of the show.

When the afternoon show was over, I congratulated George on how well he’d done, and he seemed a bit less nervous than he’d been leading up to the concert.  There was only the evening show left to complete and we’d be away from here, perhaps to have our talk, perhaps to start over again.  Perhaps…… to heal?  To reunite?  I thought I’d best avoid the subject for now, and wait until the evening show was over before I brought it up again.

“Whur’s Eric?” George wanted to know as soon as we’d returned to the dressing room.

“I think he’s drunk in his dressing room,” I replied. 

It was hard for me to tell him that, his anger was very close to the surface.  And my feelings were a bit rocky as well; after all, my heart continued to tell me that I had a history with Eric and seeing him in that little dressing room, passed out with his girlfriend, had hurt me badly.  George swore violently and then went looking for his friend; I stayed behind, coward that I am.

George was back in moments, pale and shaking, physically ill with the horror of it.  The next several hours were an absolute blur for me, I simply couldn’t comprehend it.  Eric and his girlfriend weren’t just passed out, they’d overdosed on drugs and it was too late for both of them.  George was inconsolable, and the evening concert was canceled; there was nearly a riot by the fans outside the Gardens when they realized the show wasn’t going to go on.  Their anger turned to grief as the news was revealed to them.  Eric Clapton was dead. 

I was stunned so deeply by the horror of the events that I couldn’t even think straight, couldn’t even react to what had happened so quickly and so tragically.

“You were th’ last one t’ see ‘im!” George accused.  “Why din’t ya call th’ doctor, he might have saved Eric!”

“I thought he was drunk!  I didn’t have any clue he’d overdosed!” I replied angrily. 

The anger was directed at myself, mainly.  Why hadn’t I done what George had said?  Oh God, Eric!  My Eric……  What had I done?

“’e left a note.”

The quiet, flat statement gave me shivers of foreboding.

“What?  What did he say?” I asked dumbly.

“I din’t want th’ police t’ see it,” George whispered, as if he hadn’t heard me.  “I din’t want anyone t’ see it.”

He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, his fingers trembling.  He looked at me with dead eyes that held no emotion at all, then looked down at the note he held.  I reached over and took it from him, unfolding the piece of paper with fingers that trembled near as badly as my husband’s.  My heart was hammering as I read the short note, deciphered the scrawled handwriting.

I’m in love with Pattie and I can’t
         live without her.  I’m sorry.  Eric

Oh no, oh no, oh no.  What had I done?

“He did it on purpose,” I said bleakly.  “He did it because I told him I didn’t want anything to do with him.” 

Oh God, oh God, oh God, ohGodohGodohGodohGodohGod……

George nodded tiredly.  “Yeah, I figgered it was somethin’ like that.  I took th’ note ‘cause I’d rather people b’lieve it was an accident than…… suicide.  Oh, God, I just can’t b’lieve this, Eric……”

He rubbed his eyes, making them even redder. 

“Why, Pattie?” George asked quietly, dispiritedly.  “Why’d ya tell him that?  Why din’t ya just go off with him?  Ya know we been on th’ path t’ splittin’ up fer years, thur’s nothing that’s gonna save our marriage at this point, pet.  Not adoptin’ a baby, nothin’.  Ya know I wouldn’t have cared if you’d gone off with him.”

He turned his back on me, his shoulders slumped in sorrow. 

“I wouldn’t ‘ave cared,” he repeated softly.

Oh, God, they were both lost to me.  I closed my eyes and the tears finally came, deep shuddering sobs of remorse.  After a moment, I felt a brush drawn through my hair, soothing me, but the anguish was too deep, too strong, too heavy for an easy escape.  I wanted to die.

***

“Thur, thur, gurl, ‘s all right,” George said soothingly, his whisper very close to my ear.  “C’mon, pet, yer cryin’ like it’s th’ end o’ th’ world, but look, it’s a beautiful day an’ a smashing party, Eric’s waitin’ fer ya in th’ garden…… whoops, c’mon, gurl, open yer eyes, yer not gonna faint on me, are ya?”

The brushing stopped abruptly and I heard the brush drop to the floor as his hands grasped my arms to keep me from falling; my knees had buckled beneath me and I was lightheaded.  I opened my eyes and looked at myself in the mirror, then quickly glanced around the room.  What had just happened?  Dear God, was I mad?  Had George said Eric was waiting for me……?  But……?

“Ya back with me, pet?” George asked, his arms going around me to steady me as I leaned back against his chest in shock.  “Thought I lost ya thur fer a bit,” he added with a little chuckle.  “Whur’d ya go, love? You were off in outer space for sure.  C’mon, pet, don’t cry anymore, please, Eric’s not gonna be too happy if ‘e thinks I made ya cry.”

I saw his face peep around mine in the mirror; George was unbearded, curly haired and mustachio’d, older, and I was back at my reception.  I turned in his arms and hugged my ex husband tightly, weak with sheer relief.  I couldn’t wait to see my husband.  My husband Eric.  Oh, God, my heart was singing to realize it had simply been a dream, or a nightmare, or a flashback, or whatever!  Thank You God, thank You.

But George would think me mad if I told him what had just happened!

“Oh, I suppose I was simply lost in thought,” I managed to tell him as I stepped back from him.  He kept his hands on my arms, as if afraid I might pass out in front of him.

“Maybe ya just needed t’ get away from th’ crowd fer a bit,” he suggested, and I nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s it, all the noise, the crowd……”

He gave me a little shake.  “Anyway, I was sayin’, thur’s no tellin’ what would have happened if we’d stayed t’gether.  But if we had, you’d have never married Eric, an’ I wouldn’t have found Livy, never woulda had Dhani.  I gotta say I’m glad how things worked out, pet, I gotta figger things happen fer a reason.  Maybe you’ll be able t’ have a baby with Eric, maybe not.  But yer worth as a woman can’t be measured like that.  Yer a beautiful gurl, inside an’ out, an’ quite an inspiration t’ everybody who knows ya, love.  We can’t predict th’ future, can we?  An’ we can’t live in th’ past, either.  Ya just have t’ live each day as it comes.  But I want ya t’ know that bein’ able t’ remain friends means a lot t’ me.  You mean a lot t’ me, Pattie, you always will.  Can’t ever erase our past, an’ I wouldn’t want to.  I still care ‘bout ya, pet.”

My heart lurched, once, and I said the words before I even thought of them. 

“You’re someone I’ll never stop loving, not deep down.” 

I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it, but he nodded his agreement to my statement, and I felt a little better, as if it was something I’d needed to say.  And I realized it was true, but not in the way I’d thought earlier in the day.  I had a history with this man and he was very special to me, no matter the past and no matter the future.  I sincerely loved him and I would probably always love him, but I wasn’t in love with him any longer.

I was in love with Eric.  And my weird dream was over and Eric was alive and probably wondering to where his wife might have disappeared!  I was so happy that I began laughing in sheer relief.  George chuckled, too, obviously not quite sure what the joke was, but simply glad I was in better spirits.

Our laughter died away after a moment and George and I simply looked at each other, smiling.

“Ya ready t’ face ‘em again?” he asked as he gave my arms a final squeeze and then released me.

“I’ll be out in a minute, George,” I said.  “You go ahead.”

“Oh yeah, can’t be seen leavin’ th’ room together, right?” he asked with a mischievous wink.  “That’d really give th’ gossip rags somethin’ t’ be waggin’ thur tongues about!   Well, don’t be long, pet, Ringo an’ Paul are here, think we might jam a bit.”

“Really?” I asked.  “What an honour!”  I laughed as I said it.

“Yeah, we’re gonna fuel some reunion rumours, I’d bet,” he chuckled.  “We’ll prob’ly get Eric an’ Mick an’ Ginger an’ Lonnie up with us, should be fun.  C’mon outside, don’t miss it, Pattie.  Ya done mopin’ about?  Ya feelin’ ok now?”

“I feel wonderful, and I won’t miss it,” I assured him.  “I’ll be out shortly, I promise.  You run along now, and give your little boy a big hug and kiss.  And your wife as well.”

The warmth of his smile lit the room by several degrees, and for the first time, I was happy, really happy, for his joy.  He started for the door, then came back and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  His mustache tickled.

“I hope you an’ Eric’ll be very happy, love,” he told me sincerely.

“Thank you, George.  That means a lot to me.”  I raised my hand and touched his cheek.

He smiled at me, that damned crooked grin, and then he turned away.  He was reaching for the doorknob when the door opened and Eric stepped into the room.

“What’s goin’ on ‘ere,” he asked with a scowl.  “Me best friend an’ me wife……?”

I went directly to him and hugged him soundly, in relief and love.  Thank God, thank God, thank God.

“Have I told you lately that I love you very much?” I asked him, not caring what my husband’s best friend thought of my question.

Eric smiled and kissed me thoroughly.  George cleared his throat.

“Errrr, guess I’ll jus’ be leavin’ you two lovebirds alone,” he began with a laugh.

Eric and I broke apart with giggles, and we each hugged George in a three-way embrace that felt wonderful and very caring.  Then my two favourite men in the world left the room arm in arm, joking about being “husbands-in-law”. 

I finished repairing my makeup and then stayed in the room thinking about my ‘experience’ until I heard the musicians tuning up.  Taking a fortifying breath, I walked out to the garden to join in the fun.  I gave Paul a hug and told him I was very happy he’d come.  I gave Richard a very big hug, and I think I surprised him when I told him I had always greatly appreciated our friendship.  He looked at me rather quizzically as I left the stage to the rag-tag lot of musicians. 

I saw Olivia sitting at a table with Linda and the children, and I went to sit with them, giving Lin a hug and kiss of greeting.  Heather, Mary and Stella were each very daintily busy with their cake, while little 20 month old James was making an enthusiastic mess with his slice of cake.  Since they were all quiet and well occupied with the treat, Lin laughingly suggested leaving off greeting them until they were finished and cleaned up, and I had to agree with her.  Chocolate cake and wedding reception dress do not mix well!

Olivia smiled at me a bit uncertainly as I sat down beside her.

“Do you mind if I hold Dhani for a moment?” I asked.

She gave him over to me, a bit wide eyed at the request, and I held the little boy on my lap whilst we watched the impromptu band begin their performance.  Perhaps my heart gave a bit of a twinge over holding my ex husband’s child, but he was such a sweet little boy, and Olivia was such a sweet young mother, that I simply couldn’t feel bad for long.  The three of us wives were soon laughing and enjoying the unexpected concert, and all the children seemed fascinated by the noise and excitement.

I smiled up at the stage, at Eric, my husband of only a few months, and I wondered what the future might bring.

I suppose that, in life, you simply have to play the cards that you’re dealt.  Despite my ‘flashback’ or whatever it had been, who knows what might have been?  And who knows what might occur in the future?  I was not going to live my life on “what if’s”.  Tomorrow would be here to reveal itself before I knew it.

Cheryl Mortensen has been a Beatle fanatic since the 1960s, but somehow went on to other things in the late 1960s, only rediscovering her passion for "all things Beatle" in the late 1990s (and on into the new century).  She is a computer programmer and an avid photographer. (Concert photos of bands and performers is her favorite area -- ask her about her Ringo pictures!!)  Cheryl lives with her husband of many years (Mike), her German Shepherd (Sorsha), and a bunch of fish in the tank and the pond that they've never bothered to name.