Thank you to Starkiller and Beatlesgirl9 for being the only reviewers for the FOUR chapters I put up ... I'm grateful for them though, thanks :D
Oh also. I am now entitled to a little bit of bragging, since I'm anonymous over here and nobody in my life can know about this. I SNEAKED INTO A GUNS N' ROSES CONCERT. Without tickets B) I never was a huge fan of them, I sort of just took them for granted, I only went because my brother wanted to, but after hearing them live ... even without Slash ... Axl's voice truly is brilliant, even if it does get annoying. k I'm done now. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize.
Nowhere Girl
Chapter Thirteen: After
FOUR YEARS LATER
I see them, swirls in beautiful colours, painted on a sign hanging a block away.
Suddenly, those memories rush back, memories of a girl I once loved, my summer sun and my moon fey, my flower child. A single night in a midnight city and then a handful of sunlit days in New York; a misunderstanding and my temper, that dreaded Lennon temper. The one time that John Lennon's formidable temper got back to him. And I lost her.
Getting over her took so, so long; I'm normally the heartbreaker. For days, every brown-haired girl had me convinced that it was her, that that seemingly nonexistant Man Upstairs was giving me a second chance. Every painted mural on the streets reminded me of her; even Ringo's scented candles reminded me of her. (I spent the whole day after she left me chewing my way through his three bags of gummy bears that she'd so loved.)
And eventually, I healed. Two years, three years, running on the fourth. I dated other girls; she slowly became a memory, a beautiful one, my flower child preserved forever, never to be more than an image in my mind again.
Still ... those swirls bring back images of her room, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin. Delicate and excruciatingly gentle, just like her. I stop to see what the sign is. It leads to an art studio. I walk in, but the interior is very different from the sign: very different from my flower child: it's all very white and neat and orderly, geometric, sculptures mounted on white pedestals of simple objects voicing simple statements. There's a ladder in the middle of the room, with an enlarging glass dangling from a string above it: I climb up the ladder, put the glass to my eye, to see the painting. It's a mirror, which reflects my iris back at me, huge and brown and rimmed with a rainbow from the light. 'Interesting, isn't it?' says a light, fairy-like voice from below me. I look down to see a tiny Asian woman with straight black hair. I'm reminded of the time Auri and I met in New York, her standing on a ladder in the street, painting a mural, me looking up at her. I climb down from it and say, 'It is.'
She didn't just look short from the height of the ladder; she still barely reaches my shoulder. She wears a white pantsuit, to match her studio. I wonder where that psychedelic, swirly sign outside came from; certainly this woman has not made it. Everything about her, I realise, is so radically different from everything about Auri.
That's good, because I never could replace her.
'I'm Yoko Ono,' says the woman, holding out her hand.
'Pleasure to meet ya,' I say, 'I'm John Lennon.'
'I know,' she says, with a smile.
I know most of you won't be Yoko fans, personally I'm not one myself, but she did make John happy ... so I shall put her in. BUT DON'T WORRY, this is the only appearance she'll make. :) I couldn't bear to write about any John-Yoko romance. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope I get more reviews this time! -Jen.