Well hello there! My name is Scarlett McNulty, but most people call me Scar for short. You probably only know of me for one reason and that reason shall become apparent as the story I am about to tell unfolds. So we should get started, eh?
For as long as I could remember, my family had lived next door to the Harrisons. And they weren't really neighbours either. They were more like a second family almost. George and I were the best of mates as there could be and so were my two older brothers, Jim and Ron, and his older brothers, Harry and Peter. Louise was like the older sister I'd never had. I knew anytime I needed to chat about girl things, she was right next door with open ears. Then Harold and Louise were like my second parents. Actually, they were quite better than me own mum and dad.
Growing up, my home life was pretty dysfunctional. My sister was retarded and when she was 5 and I was 8, she died falling out of bed and breaking her neck. That was a huge blow to the family. My dad was just messed up in general and left after my sister died. And me mum was a raging alcoholic. She always was, but it got worse after dad left In fact, it was so bad that when I was 16 I decided I couldn't take it anymore. Harold said that it was okay if I stayed with them in George's room until I went out on my own.
So in a way, the Harrison house was like a safe shelter. When dad would go into his fits of rage that could be heard across the Atlantic, I would just go to their house. Even after he left I'd still go over just to get away from the insanity of my mother. They knew how it was at my home and said I was welcome anytime. I think all of Liverpool knew how it was.
Of course, when I went over there I went to George's room. He was what made me love that family so much. He was my best friend. He always was. Even during the time boys and girls are supposed to think the other's icky we were still best friends. And he knew what went on at home and my reasons for randomly showing up. He'd always comfort me and hug me, but I'd push him away and tell him I'm fine. He'd always say:
"Scar, if you ever need someone, I'm here. There's no need to put on a brave face."
He was right. I knew I could count on him to be there and make me feel better. And it WAS just a face. I put up a mask so he couldn't see that I was crumbling on the inside. I couldn't put that burden on him. I care about him too much.
That's why when he told me him and his band were going to Hamburg, Germany, my heart broke.
I knew of course he played guitar in a band, but I hadn't ever met them. The gigs they played were normally in pretty rough areas so I'd never really gone to see him. But he had played for me before. A lot actually. And he was amazing. He didn't think he was good though.
"It's really mediocre playing though, Scar."
"Don't say that, George! It's really good!"
"You're just saying that..."
"No sir! One day, everybody will know George Harrison!"
He'd smile and continue on playing.
I guess it didn't surprise me though when they got the big gig in Hamburg. But still, I didn't want George to leave.
"It'll be just a couple of months and I'll be back. Promise!"
"It still seems too long..." I pouted a little bit.
"Well, think of it this way; you get the room all to yourself!"
"Yeah, I guess that's nice. But isn't 17 too young to leave the country? Did mum and dad sign some papers or something?"
"Christ, they don't know I'm going to fucking Hamburg! As far as they know, I'm going to a 'special school'." He winked and smiled at me.
I shot a look of disapproval at him but couldn't help but laugh at his silly attitude.
"Okay. Just be safe, alright? I wouldn't want to lose my baby Harrison!"
I called him that since he was the youngest of the kids. He hated it; I loved it!
"Yeah, yeah, alright."
His train pulled up.
"Well, here it is. See ya, Scar!" He squeezed me tight.
"Bye George."
He boarded and I watched the train pull away. A ripping pain soared through my body. I wondered if he knew. I wondered if he knew that when he smiled and winked at me, my heart skipped a beat. I wondered if he knew when he hugged me, I felt weightless and safe. I wondered if he knew that as he left, I held back the urge to cry and run after the train and get him back. I wondered if he knew I was madly in love with him.