A/N: This is the third and final part of my Beatles trilogy. (Or maybe I'll pull a Douglas Adam's, who knows?) It is also a response to a challenge from the SOSF writes group. As always, these fine characters do not belong to me but, as the original owners seem to have abandoned them, I feel it's my duty to let them out for some sunshine and fresh air. I derive no financial gains from their adventures, only enjoyment for me and hopefully for you: the reader.
She's Leaving Home
Wednesday Morning, at 5 o'clock as the day begins.*
Jeannie's room looked like an explosion had gone off. Most of her belongs lay strew across every horizontal surface the space contained. Very little time remained before she needed to load the car for her first semester of college and she was trying desperately to corral the mess into a viable volume for transport.
She labored to sort things into "college" and "home" boxes without much success. Inevitably, each area she emptied contained something that took her mind directly to the land of memories. This should be an easy one, she thought as she opened the top drawer of her dresser. Dumping the contents on the bed, she quickly began to toss assorted underwear and socks into a cardboard box marked: college.
When she went to shove the empty drawer back into the dresser, Jeannie noticed that an item had caught under the corner of the rose-printed paper lining the drawer. When she yanked up the paper and spied a folded square of fabric, her breath caught in her chest. She hadn't thought about this memento in quite some time. It was almost 4 years to the day that she'd received it from a kind stranger on a night that had proven to be a turning point in her young life.
Jeannie brought the bandana up to her face and rubbed the worn cotton fabric against her skin. She sat down heavily on the bed, knocking a pile of clothes to the floor and let her mind drift back to August 29, 1966 and the tumultuous times that followed. She'd carried the bandana every day for almost six months, finally stashing it in the drawer; threadbare and faded from multiple washings, after she had filled and refilled it with countless tears.
She and Mike, as she now called her dad, had talked all the way home from the concert that night. She never did tell him about the handsome young man who gave her the bandana, but his words had proven to be prophetic. Love was indeed what was needed to conquer the strained situation between them. The revelation had happened just in time; not that the road had been smoothed easily or overnight.
When they got home from the concert, a squad car and an ambulance were in front of their DeHaro Street home. Helen had taken a turn for the worse while they were gone, in what was the beginning of the final leg of her fatal journey. Helen saw the change in them, so in her mind the evening had been a rousing success. She tried to ease Mike and Jeannie's guilt about being absent in her time of need, but father and daughter would always carry it with them. She passed peacefully a few weeks later, knowing that her beloved husband and daughter were finally working toward the close, supportive relationship they'd need to move on without her.
00000
Mike stood in Jeannie's bedroom doorway and caught sight of her holding the bandana to her face, apparently lost in the past. He couldn't image the significance of the fabric scrap. He took a few minutes and just looked at her, marveling at the beautiful, self-possessed young woman that she had become. Finally he cleared his throat, wakening her to the moment at hand.
"You been up all night?" Mike asked Jeannie as he dropped down next to her, sitting on the bed.
"Uh huh" Jeannie replied, leaning up against Mike's shoulder. She looked at the clock. "What are you doing up so early?"
Mike shrugged his shoulders, "Big day."
They sat for a long time, while she continued to finger the tattered cloth.
"How about some coffee, Mike?" She said, finally standing. Jeannie used the kerchief to dab the tears that now clung to her lashes.
She goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching her handkerchief.*
Mike followed her down the stairs and went outside to get the paper while Jeannie started the coffee.
"Are you going to be ready to leave by ten?" Mike asked as he sat down at the kitchen table and noticed the red cloth.
"Sure, Mike," she said absently as she pour coffee for both of them. She put the percolator back on the stove and joined him at the table once again stroking the precious fabric. They sat in an uneasy silence. There was too much to say before she left, so they said nothing.
"What's with the bandana?" Mike asked, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in his throat, desperate for a safe topic of conversation. The innocent query set off a fresh wave emotion in Jeannie. She wasn't sure she wanted to share the story of her treasured talisman with Mike, and she didn't know why.
She dodged the question instead. "Is Steve coming over before we leave?"
Steve Keller was Mike's new partner. They had been together for several month and she had met him a few time but he seemed to be good for Mike. Jeannie had noticed some of the spark she thought long gone from her father's eyes had returned since Steve had entered the scene. Based on how much Mike talked about him, Jeannie had high hopes that their budding friendship would ease some of the separation pains her dad might have when she left for college.
"He'll be here around 7," Mike replied, "He promised to come over and help load the car before he heads to the office."
That was all the excuse Jeannie needed to escape the kitchen, "Well then I better get a move on," she said, as she quickly got up, refilled her coffee and headed up the stairs to finish packing; her memory filled fabric swatch momentarily forgotten on the kitchen table.
TBC
*She's Leaving Home by Lennon/McCartney 1967