6:07 pm

–Rrrr-ing! Ring!–

I was slightly awake. It did not register in my head that it was the telephone ringing. I did not pay much attention to it.

–Ring! Ring–

I opened my eyes. I knew it was the phone, but I did not want to get up. I did not want to walk all the way to the kitchen. I looked over to John to see if he was awake. He was asleep, way in dreamland. I guess I would have to get the phone.

“Damn.” I muttered. I moved John off of me and took the comforter off of me. Flying to get the phone I almost tripped on my shoe.

–Ring!!! Ring!!!–

I picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Hello?? Is this Jayne?” An urgent voice called out.

“Yeah. Is that you George? I thought John called you.” I was puzzled by the tone of his voice and by the fact that he was calling.

“He did. This is about something else. Is he there?” He seemed almost panicked, but not quite. Like something awful happened.

“He is, but he’s fast asleep.” I said.

“How long has been out? Has he heard the news? Is he alright??” The questions came in rapid succession.

“Since four, he’s fine, and what news???” Confused again, like so many times since the day before.

“Oh, so you two didn’t hear?” Geo sounded almost relieved to hear it.

“No. What’s this about?”

“I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to tell John. He has to call me.”

“Yeah, sure, anything, what is it???”

“I’m not sure how to put this without being blunt, but Yoko’s dead.”

“Ohmigod!” I went silent, Yoko Ono is dead. Of all the thoughts that flashed through my head at that moment the one I thought most of was how John would feel, seeing as they just had a huge fight.

“You still there?”

“Yeah. Shocked, but here none the less.” I paused, “How did this happen?” I asked.

“She was making a film called a ‘Fly Piece’ it’s where people jump off buildings seemingly to their doom. It was Yoko’s turn to jump, but the crew wasn’t ready. She didn’t know that the safety netting wasn’t up, and she jumped.”

“Oh god. How high was the building?”

“Eight stories high, they said she was killed almost instantly. They caught the whole thing on film too.”

“How dreadful.” I sincerely desired that they were not going to release the tape, it must be gruesome, like something out of a horror movie.

“So you’ll let John know to call me. I’m at the studios, getting some work done. It’s all over the BBC, so don’t let John turn on the tele or anything. Everyone here at the office thought it would be best that I tell him. We figured that it would be best coming from me rather than the press.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be better. How long will you be there?” At this point I would do anything to make sure John felt comfortable before shattering his world.

“Until about eight or nine this evening.” he said.

“I’ll have him call you when he gets up.”

“Thanks love, take care.” George whispered.

“Yeah, you too.”

“Ta.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone and stood there letting the facts soak in. Yoko Ono is dead. She is not coming back. John still probably loves her, well, loved her. How would Mr. Lennon react to such a twist? I mean, everyone knew he loved her, and now that she’s gone, how will he fare?

I also find it ironic that she died making an art film. It will be how she will be remembered. Her falling to her death, caught on film. See her face flood over with pure terror. Her arms flailing, and her hair flapping wildly against her head and the air moving past her. The scream of all screams. The sound and sight of her body hitting the pavement. Her head, probably exploding, or at least shattering. The look on her face when she died, her lifeless body. A chill went down my spine envisioning her impending doom.

I heard footsteps from behind me. ‘Must be John,’ I thought. Felt arms hug me around my waist, John’s face touching the side of my head, near my ear. I heard him whisper.

“Who was on the phone?” Such an inviting touch he had, but at such a wrong time.

“George. He wants you to call him right away. He’s at the studios.” I said softly.

“He can wait.” He loosened his arms around my waist. I spun around. He looked so beautiful. Hair glimmering in the sun. Eyes so intense that they could have killed a lesser girl, even through his coke-bottle glasses. I stayed locked in his gaze for quite some time before I felt tears form in my eyes. I shied away and looked downward, hoping he wouldn’t see my tears.

He must have seen the tears, because he held me close. I hoped he would not let go, but he need to call Geo. “Call him. It’s too important to put off.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked up at him.

“You said he’s at the studios, right?” I nodded at him. “I’ll give him a ring then.” John let me go but held my hand firmly. He picked up the telephone to dial George.

“I’m going to get a shower. Make all the calls you want.” I gave a weak smile and he let go of my hand slowly. My head drooped as I made my way to the shower, a sad sad day indeed.

In the shower I had time to think about how Yoko’s death would effect me. Not to mention how John would be for the next day. John would probably want to go back to his apartment now that Yoko was gone. Which was a sad thought in my mind, I didn’t want him to leave.

While I was shampooing my hair I came to a realization. John was now officially single. Under normal circumstances I would jump for joy, but instead I was joyless. I rinsed out my hair, put in conditioner, washed that out and got out of the shower. I toweled myself off and turned off the ceiling fan. I wrapped a towel around me and headed for the chair in my bedroom, in the hall I could hear John talking quietly to who I assumed was George Harrison.

I found my tall black heeled boots. Fab things, those boots. I grabbed my black miniskirt from the closet, a wonderful satin skirt with Indian embroidery along the hemline. I found my v-neck sweater, it was also black, but with bell sleeves. Even though my hair was still wet I combed it and wore it down.

When I came out of the bedroom I saw that John was still on the phone. It sounded like he was making a press statement. I lingered in the hallway until he was finished with the statement.

“Yeah, thanks again Derek. I’m sure I’ll recover in time.”he paused listening to the person on the other end, “Yes, I’m sure. Okay, well good-bye then.” he hung up the phone. He placed his hand on his forehead and sighed deeply.

I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at me, his eyes were red and there were tears coming down his cheeks. “I guess you never thought you’d ever see a Beatle cry.”

“You’re not a ‘Beatle’, you’re John Winston Lennon. And even if you were just a‘Beatle’, ‘Beatles’ have hearts, don’t they?” I stood beside him, hoping to get a sign of life behind that death shroud of a face.

“Actually that was our whole plan, ‘never let them see you cry’.” He turned his head, one would say he was almost ashamed at his tears.

“Suppose letting one of ‘them’ won’t hurt public image.” I hugged him tightly, he hugged back. I was beginning to cry also, it was just to tense of a situation not to cry. I was crying for many reasons. Maybe it was the way he needed someone, or maybe it was just because he was in so much pain. Mainly, I think, I was crying for John; so that he wouldn’t have to.