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Everything felt different, and nothing felt remotely real. Planning a funeral for someone he'd been close to for so long, whom Ringo had thought would live longer than him, was unbearable. Seeing everyone dressed in black brought a wave of sadness and despair, yet he knew that was the most fitting way to honor their memory.
The service was solemn and controlled, yet eight words echoed within George's mind like a mantra: Do you want me to come with you? George was kind and selfless, always thinking of others before himself, even if it hurt him. If Ringo had the chance, Lee would never have gotten the brain tumor so that he could stay with George until the end. If it were up to Ringo, Lee would have never gotten the brain tumor so that he could remain with George until the end. Better yet, George's cancer was miraculously cured, or not there at all.
Ringo hesitated at Olivia's front door. He could hear the muted, solemn conversations and feel the air of grief that hung in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the house. The living room was filled with people, some standing in small groups with plates of finger foods, others sitting somberly on couches and armchairs. His stomach twisted as he considered leaving without speaking to anyone. Then his eyes landed on Olivia, standing alone near the window with dried tears streaking her cheeks. Without another thought, Ringo walked towards her.
Olivia hugged him tightly, and he closed his eyes briefly, savoring her warmth. When she finally let him go, the air between them felt heavy and dense with unspoken words. She glanced up at him with a sad smile, her hands still gently clasped around his arms.
"He wanted me to give something." She told him. "George wanted you to have it." Ringo couldn't fathom what it could be, but he was curious. Olivia guided him to her living room.
The walls of the room were crowded with frames, displaying memories. George and Olivia smiled back at Ringo from a photo where they held a squirming infant, Dhani. Ringo's gaze moved around the room until Olivia pulled out a dusty file box, handing it to him with uncertain eyes. "He asked me not to look at it. Said it was for your eyes only." The weight of curiosity pressed against his chest as he accepted the box, gripping it in his hands. "You can read it here if you want. I'll leave you to open it in private."
Ringo eased himself into the nearest chair and delicately removed the lid from the box. Inside was a pile of letters, each bound together by a thread. He took them out and started to read. The first letter dated back to 1961.
My Ringo,
I was transfixed the moment I spotted you across the crowded room of the cavern club. The world suddenly stopped spinning, and my heart skipped a beat. My mind went blank except for a thought: "his eyes are so blue. "
Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. You are my sun and moon, and I hope you can believe me when I say you are the kindest person I have ever met. You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known - and even that is an understatement.
I am so lucky to live in the same universe, at the same time, in the same world as you. You are so beautiful. You eclipse all the others. We live in your shadow. True love stories never have endings. I would call you a star, but no star is as bright as you. I never want to stop making memories with you. I have found the one who my soul loves. You're nothing short of my everything.
Je t'ai aimé hier, je t'aime encore, je t'ai toujours aimé et je t'aimerai toujours. Loved you yesterday, love you still, always have, and always will.
Yours forever,
George
Ringo's hands trembled as he carefully opened the envelope, and his eyes filled with tears as he read the words on the page. He silently wiped away a tear that had slipped down his cheek.
My Ringo,
I love you, I love you, I love you. I wish I could tell you how I feel without fearing death. It would be much easier if only you or I were a woman.
Yours forever,
George
Ringo's cheeks were stained with tears, and his heart felt like it was being squeezed into a vice. George was in love with him. George was in love with him and thought he couldn't tell Ringo. The following letter had the name Ringo crossed out and love written in its place.
My love,
How can you not see the way I look at you? How can you not realize what you do to me? You are my reason for being.
Forever Yours,
George
Ringo was shaking.
My love,
I'm going to marry Pattie. I wish I could marry you. I will always love you.
Yours,
George
Ringo buried his face in his hands. He couldn't believe what he was reading. He shut his eyes tight as hot tears streamed down his cheeks, trying to stifle his sobs from echoing in the room.
My Ringo,
I wish I could tell you that you are why I slept with Maureen. I just wanted to feel close to you.
Yours,
George
His stomach churned, knowing that George had used Maureen to fill a void in his life--a hole that Ringo had unintentionally put there. Ringo tried to stay composed as he moved on to the following letter.
My Ringo,
It hurts me to look at you. It hurts me to not look at you. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. You are the light in the darkness.
Yours,
George
Ringo nervously flicked through the stack of envelopes, each addressed to him in tidy handwriting. He stopped at the last letter, and his heart sank when he saw the postmark date - the day George passed away.
My Ringo,
You left before I dared to tell you. Oh, how I desperately wanted to say to you. That's why I wrote you these letters. They took the edge off when we were younger, and I feared your reaction. I almost told you once before. In 1988, after that interview, we did. When you said, "Sue me if you want, I'll always love you." I felt you were saying, "No matter what you say or do, I'll always love you." I almost blurted it out when you said that. But I held it in. That's why I joined you in your dressing room. I was so close but couldn't bring myself to say the words. I should have, then maybe this would have ended differently.
My life is ending today, and the one person I want to spend my last moments with is you. I hope you can forgive me for keeping my love a secret. I love you more than I've ever loved anything. You have been my reason for being for so long. We will meet again someday. I love you, Richard Starkey.
Forever yours,
George
A searing pain pulsed in Ringo's chest as he looked down at the love letters his best friend had written him. His field of vision swirled into a foggy haze, denial clouding his reason. Tears falling from his glassy eyes left splotchy stains on the paper that seemed to amplify every word of emotion and affection. He couldn't believe it was true. How could he have not known? After all this time – after all these years of friendship – could Ringo have been too blind to see the love that George had for him?
Ringo's shoulders shook as he bent over the box, muffling his sobs. He wiped his nose with a calloused hand before he quickly stuffed the letters back inside. Then he heard the footsteps and froze, heart thumping in his chest.
"Rich?" Paul said gently from behind him. Ringo didn't trust himself to speak, so he hummed softly in response. "Do you need to talk?"
Ringo bit his lip, wanting to say yes, but he couldn't get the word out. The tears fell faster now, and no matter how hard he tried to make them stop, they continued to flow freely down his cheeks.
"What's in the box?"
"Nothing."
Paul quietly sat beside Ringo, who tensed at his presence but did not push him away. He felt a heavy arm wrap around his thin shoulders and pulled away briefly, only to be drawn back when Paul tightened his embrace. A tear streamed down Ringo's face as he struggled to keep his chin from trembling.
Paul's voice was low and gentle, like a warm hug. He ran his hand up and down Ringo's back in slow circles as Ringo wept into his shoulder. His tears were hot and thick, tasting salty on his lips. His chest was heavy, and a dull ache filled it with every gasp he breathed. His movements were jerky and uncontrollable like he had lost control of himself to the emotion. The box of letters dug into his palms from how tightly he held them, but he didn't let go. Paul barely spoke, only whispering comforting words now and then. Ringo calmed gradually until his breathing returned to normal, and the pain in his chest subsided. His eyes were puffy and red when he pulled away from Paul, feeling drained.
"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Paul asked.
Ringo's face was flushed, and his eyes glistened as he looked away. His voice cracked when he said, "George was in love with me."