Exactly a year after my mother's death, life had gone back to semi-normal. I lived, as I always had, in the house next door to the Harrison's. George was the same age as I, and we'd been close since our youngest years. My father, Jim Feller, still worked at the nearest market as the main butcher. My eldest brother, Mickey, had started work as his assistant a week after our family's tragedy.
Due to the death, my family lost income, and happiness. Since I was the oldest woman in the family, only at 16 years, I made lunches for everyone and kept up the house. Much to my dismay, my father took me out of school just to take care of the house. I remember explaining to my friends, especially George, that I wouldn't be coming back to class. Luckily, we were only finishing upper sixth form, so it wouldn't matter much longer. Though I had planned on going to college to become a journalist, family seemed a bit more important.
It was August 31st of 1960, and the Liverpool sun wasn't as bright as it had been earlier in the summer. George sat on the porch swing in my yard with his guitar in his lap, as I sat in the dewy grass picking little thistles every now and then. I noticed the sad look in his face that had lasted for the past four days.
"You know it's fine, George." I said, throwing some grass thistles in his lap which he slowly brushed off. "I'll visit in a few weeks. Dad's giving Mick a week off, so he can take me."
"I know, it's jus'-" He said, his hand lazily strumming a few chords. "What if you can't come? I'll be away from home and you for 48 days. You never even got a chance to liste' to us."
"If I can't come, I'll hear you when you get back." I said, standing up and stretching. "I'm sure dad will come around. He's just still broken up, ya know."
There was a bit of silence as I sat on the swing next to George, and I held his free hand. It wasn't a love-kind-of-hold-hands, we had been friends for forever. He'd been sad since he told me about his bands' stint in Hamburg. He'd be gone for 48 days, playing non-stop in a place called the Indra Club. He wasn't even old enough to go, but their manager would lie for them.
"It's almost five, so I'd better get goin" George said, putting his guitar in its' case. "I'm gonna miss ya, Evie Renee."
"I'll miss ya too, Georgie." I said, hot tears entering my eyes. "But, I promise I'll come visit."
"You better!" He said, throwing me into a bear hug. "Make sure you write me too!"
I watched as he clamored next door to where he lived. I would miss him. He'd been my best friend for as long as I could remember, and that counted as something since I didn't have many friends anyway. I'd have to work on my persuasive skills though, if I wanted Mick to take me all the way to Germany.
