John

3 May, 1978

"Made it through another one," Brian announced, dabbing his flushed face with a towel.

Roger laughed and shook some of the sweat out of his hair.  "Of course we did.  Anyway, we're not even done."

"Yeah, but being back on home territory doesn't feel like we're on tour, it's more like- playing a concert in one's back garden rather than something like this."  Brian gestured around us at the Olympiahalle dressing room.

I had to agree.  Personally I couldn't wait to get home and see my wife, find out how big our two little boys had grown in my absence. It came as no small relief to me that Munich was the final show before our return to the UK, not to mention we would have two whole days to ourselves before we played the next show in Stafford.  Somehow I found it much easier to play shows in Britain, perhaps because my family was well within reach. 

"Well, Fred, looks like you'll be there for it after all," Roger crooned. 

Freddie paused, turned his head slowly.  "Be there for what?"

The drummer blinked.  "I mean- she's not had the baby already, has she?"

Inwardly, I cringed.  Shit.  Here it comes again.

"Oh, that." His voice was cool.  "I don't think so."

"Well, I mean- I'd think she'd tell you if she had, right?" Roger continued, his ignorance so sweet I would almost envy him if it weren't for that bitter ironic aftertaste.

"That would certainly be the expectation," Freddie shrugged.  "I really like this city, to be honest.  I think we should spend more time here.  Paul says that some of the studios round here are very good- Musicland, I think was one he mentioned, apparently you can get a very nice sound there or something."

"Miami was actually talking about that yesterday morning," Brian noted.

"What?  Recording here?"

"No, just- recording abroad in general, he says it's much less expensive and the taxes aren't half as drastic."

"Oh, oh, yes, he did say something about that, sorry, I wasn't really listening I don't think."

"Listening?  I didn't even know you were awake," Roger teased.

"Oh, right, as though you've never been thoroughly hung over before," Freddie snapped. 

"At least I don't look it when I am.  Your head was practically under the table."

"Fuck off."

"Anyway," Brian tried to suppress the annoyance in his tone, "he mentioned this really lovely studio that's just opened up in Nice, says that's probably where we would best spend our time recording."

Freddie cracked his neck, handed his towel to Paul.  "Why there?  Why not here?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him," Brian muttered, closing the lid on the case of the Red Special.

It had been like this for two weeks now.  Everyone seemed to be getting on each other's nerves.  Granted, the band was indeed able to pull together enough for each concert, and blow the audiences away as totally as ever.  As soon as the lights went down and we drifted backstage, however, we went right back to bickering. 

By "we", though, I suppose I really mean Freddie vs. everyone else. Anything anyone said to him seemed to set him off. His eyes were sullen, his tone was critical and cutting, no matter what the circumstances. We tried to simply set his moodiness aside, not let it rub off on us, but Freddie always seemed to channel his energy, whether positive or negative, into anyone and everyone near him, so naturally we too became rather touchy- but thankfully, not nearly to the degree as he had. 

And no one understood the reason.  He wouldn't say, he wouldn't even acknowledge the problem.  The one time Brian tried to call him on it, Freddie flew into a rage and told the poor guitarist to mind his own fucking business. Only I seemed to know the real reason why, thanks to Julia's confidence in Veronica, and Veronica's inability to keep secrets from me. 

This was one time, however, that I didn't side with Freddie.  How could I?

It floored me that he would do such a thing at all, but while Julia was pregnant?  Barely a month outside her due date?  Men can, and do, make many an excuse for themselves- but that was a bridge too far.  His poor little wife, to come all that way to surprise him and be greeted like that.

And Roger, bless his soul, was not helping.  "I still can't believe it," he sighed, "I'm the only one left."

Crystal looked up from whatever it was he was doing, I couldn't really see for certain because he had his back to me.  "Only one what?" he asked.

"I'm the only one who's not married."

"Roger, you've been with Dominique for quite a long time now, so you might as well be," Brian shrugged. 

"Yeah, I might as well be- but the fact is, I'm not."  Roger grinned cheekily. 

With a little chuckle, Brian sauntered on over to his friend.  "If I didn't know better, I'd almost wonder if you were jealous."

"Oh, no, Brian; make no mistake, I'm perfectly happy to hold onto my freedom as long as I can," the drummer chirped amid laughter.  "I'm not jealous, I'm not even very surprised, when it comes to you and, uh, Deacy over there.  The only person I'm really stunned to see fall into it is you."

Freddie didn't answer right off, being too deep inside himself to realize Roger had nodded toward him on the "you."

Roger blinked.  "Freddie?"

Another pause, then suddenly Freddie turned, looking to Paul for a hint, one he too had not been paying enough attention to provide. "Hm?"

"Did you hear me?"

"N-no, I was thinking of someone else.  What is it?"

Roger rolled his eyes.  "Bloody pay attention the first time, you twat," he jibed his friend, apparently the only one of us not discouraged enough by Freddie's currently short temper to stay away from teasing him.  "I said, it still shocks me that you've joined their ranks."

"Whose ranks?"

"The ranks of the hitched, naturally."

"Oh, those ranks."  Freddie sniffed. 

"I mean, I thought you'd outlast me, to be honest," Roger gushed.  "I really thought I would be settling down long before you ever did, but what happened?  From out of nowhere, some silly Yank sprouts in your closet, becomes your girlfriend in two weeks, and before we know it there we are in Houston, watching the two of you put rings on each other's hands."

Freddie's hands began to tremble as he drew his belt through the loops of his trousers.  "Yeah, life is- curious, isn't it."

"I'll never understand.  How did she even manage it?  How did she manage to snare you so fully, so quickly?"

"I mean I thought it was fairly obvious myself," Brian muttered.

Freddie drew one arm through his jacket and froze.  "What's obvious, Brian?"

Brian's face blanched; it seemed he hadn't intended anyone else to hear that bit.  "Nothing."

"Funny, it sounded a lot like something to me," Freddie replied coolly.  "Tell me, dear, what do you find so obvious about my wife?"

"Nothing, except- I mean- think about it, Freddie. One can't say she exactly gave you much room to breathe- or much time to think, did she?"

"Think?  Think about what?"

"Anything, really, she just sort of got a hold of you, and- don't you think it's rather odd, maybe even a bit suspicious, how little time you two spent courting before she got- before she started having-"

"He's right, you know," Paul softly agreed, "she did get pregnant rather quickly."

Brian glared at Freddie's assistant as if to say, Stay off my side. 

But Freddie was so angry at the guitarist that he barely even noticed Paul had chimed in at all.  The dark eyes narrowed, his voice sinking deep into his chest.  "What are you trying to say, Brian?"

"I don't- I'm not saying anything," Brian swallowed, "it's none of my business anyw-"

"You're right, it's not," he hissed, rising from his chair.  "Just like things between you and Chrissie are none of mine, which is why I don't nose about in them."

"Freddie, we wouldn't even be talking about this if you hadn't asked me to expl-"

"So in the future," Freddie went on over him, "if you must grumble about my wife, do it when I'm not around, or by God I'll smash this mirror flat across your fucking face.  Understand?"

Suddenly brave, Brian stood his ground.  "Not a problem. I've got much better things to do than to grumble about your little Yoko."

Freddie took one menacing step closer.  "I told you to stop calling her that."

"Why should I?  That's exactly what she is.  She's your own personal Yoko Ono, already got you so far under her thumb you don't even see it."

"How dare you talk that way about my wife, as if you knew even half of the story!" Freddie cried, so angry now he was barely able to hold himself together.  "If there's anyone who trapped anyone, it was me who trapped her!  She gave up everything because I asked her to, I made her swear she would.  Her entire life, her family, her world- she left it all behind, just for me!"

"For you?  No, Freddie, not for you.  Your name, maybe, and the fame too, but not for you."

I have no doubt that Freddie was only a moment away from lunging at Brian and yanking out his dark brown curls at the roots for that cold, heartless accusation (and if he wasn't, then I would have happily seized the opportunity), but Miami walked in before he could make any such moves.  As for Roger, he was too stunned to even acknowledge him.  We all knew that Paul held Julia in quiet contempt, but I had never suspected such strong dislike on Brian's part until now. 

No more was spoken about Julia, a.k.a. Eve, for the rest of the time we spent in the dressing room.  Brian did not apologize, nor would he, as far as I knew.  He wasn't ever very good at admitting he was wrong, really, but then again, I don't know if any of us really are. 

One chillingly silent limousine ride later, we pulled up to our hotel and went our separate ways.  I don't know where Roger and Brian went, perhaps they headed somewhere for a nightcap.  All of us would have, as was our habit following most of our shows, except I was feeling the strain of the tour especially well tonight.  I decided to pass on the Munich nightlife, and just retired to bed. 

This time tomorrow, I'll be with my wife, I smiled as I stepped into the lift.  I can make it that long.

The moment I turned the corner toward my room, however, I saw Freddie alone outside the door of his own, which startled me.  I thought certainly he would repeat his current pattern of going out and having a drink or two with either Paul, or Roger, or both.  But there he stood, about ten feet away, fishing his hotel room key out of his jacket pocket.

I couldn't help myself; I called to him, "You all right?"

Freddie turned, regarded me with dull, unhappy eyes.  "Um... not really.  No."

"Oh, sorry," was my clumsy, automatic answer.

"Don't be, it's not anything you did."

"No, but- I am sorry that he said all those things."

"Oh, that, it's- it really- I mean, I can't help that he feels like that, I know he's not fond of her, I just want him to fucking keep it to himself.  That's all.  Wasn't even thinking about that anyway."

"Oh."  I fiddled idly with the key in my hand, wanting desperately to ask what he had been pondering but smart enough not to do something so foolish.  "Well, uh- I'll be turning in now, so-"

"How is she, John?"

I froze.  By "she," I knew he was not referring to Veronica.  "You- you mean, Julia?"

Freddie's mouth twitched.  "Yes.  Do you know- have you heard from her?"

"Not recently."

"When was the last time you did, then?"

"I dunno, um- when was the last time you spoke to her?"

His voice was flat.  "Two weeks ago." 

I tried to act like this was news to me.  "Good God!  Why haven't you- I mean- what's caused the-"

"John, don't play this game with me. You know exactly what happened, she probably told you the whole story.  Didn't she?"

I drew a heavy sigh.  Oh, what's the use. I can't fool him, he's too clever for that.  "Ron, uh, told me a few bits," I admitted.

"And 'few' means 'all', doesn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, it- sort of does, yes."

"Mm."  Freddie nodded slowly.  "You- you both probably hate me, don't you?"

"No, Freddie, I don't hate you, don't be silly," I replied.  "I do think you did a very stupid thing- but everyone does stupid things at some point."

"Thank you, John," he whispered.  "Thing is, I, uh- don't think she sees it quite like that."

"You'll work it out, I know it," I lied. 

"Well, unless I get the chance to actually speak to her, I don't see that ever happening."  His words began to shake.  "My God, for all I know, she may not even be still at the flat."

"Freddie, take it easy-"

"For all I know, she's already gone," he interrupted.  "She may have already packed up and headed somewhere far, far away from me and I will never, ever, ever get to see her again and I'm never going to know what he looks like."

"Look, why don't you just call her and see for yourself wheth-"

"You think I haven't been trying?" he exploded, eyes suddenly bright and brimming with tears.  "Every morning when I wake I ring Stafford Terrace three times. Every night, I ring it five.  Not once in two weeks has she picked up the phone.  I've sent her letters telling her I'm sorry, I've sent her gifts, anything I have time for, anything I can get my fucking hands on.  I don't even know if she's received them.  There's nothing.  Not a single word.  It's lost.  It's over.  She hates me, John, I've ruined everything. Everything's over and she'll never forgive me no matter what I do.  It's over.  It's all over."

While Freddie rambled on deliriously, I took the key out of his hand, opened the door to his room, and sat him down on the bed.  I didn't try and cool him off, pat him on the shoulder and say something unhelpful like "There, there".  The man had obviously kept this all pent up inside himself for an entire fortnight, and the little Brian altercation earlier had simply brought him that much closer to the edge.  I didn't even pour him a drink; I just sat there at his side and let him bawl.  He needed it.

Mercifully the tears dried up before too long.  I think he felt a little embarrassed to have broken down so completely in front of me; no matter how close we two had grown in the last year, he was still a very proud man, and tended to keep from showing any sort of weakness whenever possible.  But it was enough for me that Freddie had waited at least till he was alone with me to finally let his heart burst open, rather than falling apart in front of Brian or even Roger.

"Sorry," he whispered at last.  "I didn't mean to do that."

I shrugged.  "It's all right.  You- are still going to call her tonight though, aren't you?"

"Of course I'll call her, what kind of fucking question is that," he laughed, wiping his eyes.

What could I do but join him.  Freddie might have his little sporadic moments of despair, but in the end he really never did just give up, until he knew without a doubt that something was really, truly finished, with no hope of resuscitation. 

"She'll forgive you, Freddie, she has to," I assured him.

He sniffed.  "Why?"

"Because she loves you.  That's why."

"That's what you really think, is it?"

"I do.  She wouldn't be your wife otherwise."

"Then what would she be?"

"Forty years from now."

"That's true," he nodded, tossing a glance toward the phone.  "Right.  Um- why don't you- go call yours, too, and uh-"

"Is that a subtle way to dismiss me?" I quipped.

"I didn't think it was so subtle, personally, but if you think so-"

"Well."  I stood, grinning.  "Fuck you, then."

"Fuck you, too, John.  Would you mind putting the 'do not disturb' thing on the door before you leave?"

"I can do that.  Sleep well- and good luck."

"Yeah.  Thanks, I'll need it.  Give Ron my love."

"Will do.  Good night."

"Good night."

No sooner had I closed the door behind me than I heard the faint click of Freddie lifting the hotel phone out of its cradle. 

Come on, Julia, I prayed.  Pick up the phone.  Just this once.  Everyone deserves a second chance.  Pick it up.  Come on.