Chapter 9: Promise Me

The only memory I have of my parents is them slipping on the ring that now sits on my little finger. The only scene I have of them. The only expressions I have on their faces. The only words I know they've said. And I'm worried that one day I'll wake up and find that my only memory is gone. This is what the memory goes like.

My Mother, with her curled brown hair trying to get my attention. My Father stands behind her, holding her shoulders tightly. He gives me a little smile, and his eyes sparkle, like the way Paul's do. My Mother grabs hold of my hand and holds it in hers, moving her fingers gently up and down it.

"Stella, my love, my pride and joy, your Father and I are going to give this ring to you, and we want you to follow the rules it brings." Her eyes glimmer with tears.

"By wearing this ring, you promise that you will never give yourself to a man without being married first, and that you will stay strong and pure until you find the one who truly loves you and cares for you will all of his heart. And he would rather kill himself than ever hurt you, and will put you before himself, no matter what the cost." She sniffs and rubs her eyes.

"This is also something for you to remember us by. Never forget your real Mummy and Daddy, Stella. We love you dearly, and we will come back and find you soon, before you even know it. And we will make sure to meet your husband, and give him our blessing for you to marry. Please don't ever think we won't return. Please…"

And that's where my memory fades. Just like that. No warning, just that. And that's exactly why I'm not sure if I want to break my promise to my parents. I'm afraid that something will happen, and they won't come back for me.

I wake up the next morning to find myself sleeping on the couch in the hotel room, feeling drowsy and hung-over. The couch doesn't feel quite right, however.

I open my eyes slowly and look in front of me, at the cans of beer on the table, some crushed, some overturned, and some still in tact. I feel sick at the look of them.

Then the couch underneath me moves. I look under and to my horror, I see Paul, without a shirt on. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure if he has anything on. Or if I do. Without thinking, I scream, which makes Paul's eyes fly open, and I see the same terrified face that I must have staring back at me.

In one quick motion, I pull the robe on that's on the arm of the couch around me, and he pulls the blanket around him.

We move to separate sides of the sofa, not daring to look at each other.

"What… what happened last night?" I ask, my voice shaky. Paul shakes his head.

"I don't know… I don't know." I bite my fingernail.

"All I remember is that I felt,"

"Nice." We say in unison, meeting each other's eyes.

Then my eyes shoot to my hand, where the promise ring is gone, leaving only a red mark where it had been.

"Where's…"

Paul points to the window.

"It's all coming back to me. We threw it out the window, and then headed for the couch. I'm sorry…"

I shake my head, in some kind of trance.

"No, it's my fault. I should've been more aware."

An awkward silence creeps in the room.

Paul taps his fingers on the arm of the sofa nervously, and looks the other way, I doing the same.

I move over a little bit towards Paul, and he does the same, but we don't make eye-contact, like nothing's happening.

I move over again, and he follows my lead.

Our hands intertwine slowly, and we look at each other.

"Well, now that the ring's gone…" Paul says, giving me a wink. I smile, and before I know it, we're out the door of John and Cynthia's room, and into ours, straight into the bed once more.

When I tell John the next day, he nearly falls over laughing.

I shove my hands into my pockets of my pea coat and bite my lip.

"What's so funny? You and Cynthia do it all the time!"

John leans up against a tree and giggles. "Yeah, but I told you that it was addicting, but you gave me a dirty look. And look at you two now! You're quite the item… the McCharmly's."

I wad up a ball of snow and throw it at John with a strength that surprises me. His eyes grow wide, and he slowly bends over and wads up another chunk of snow, takes aim, and throws, straight at my stomach.

"John! I didn't hit you in the gut!" I yell, shooting him a dirty look.

"Hey, at least I don't go on walks in the park with other people's boyfriends."

I walk over to John and we continue walking along.

"You know better John, you're my best friend. Don't best friends go places with each other?"

He smiles. "I know Stella, I'm just joking. Besides, you're my best friend too."

I kick the snow in front of me with the tip of my boot.

"Paul and Cynthia know we do this, right?" I ask, looking into John's happy eyes. "Yeah, they know. Every Monday it's our day." I look at him with a smile, and he shakes his head.

"No, not that way!" He bursts out laughing his strange laugh, and a lot of heads turn our way.

I giggle and walk into his side, where he puts his arm around me. You know, the way best friends do… if they do.

"So did you talk to George about Iris?"

John shrugs. "Yeah, I did. Wait? You didn't? You live with the guy!" I give a little laugh.

"Yeah, I do, don't I? I don't know why I didn't ask, I just didn't really feel like it was any of my business."

John raises an eyebrow. "So you feel it's your business now?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, in a way. I just didn't feel like it was right for me to ask him."

John smirks at me. "Alright, well, if you must know, George broke up with the bitch," John looks up at me with a smile. "She was treating him like absolute shit, if you know what I mean."

I can't help but giggle at this.

"Yeah, she really was. Poor George though."

John's face turns solemn. "Yeah, it really was his first serious girlfriend, wasn't it?"

"You say 'it' instead of 'she'?"

He nods. "Well, yeah, that's all she is, isn't she?"

"You mean it?"

He grins and looks down at the ground, scuffing his toe on the sidewalk.

A few high-school girls look at us and giggle. John raises an eyebrow and turns to look at them.

"Hey! You! What's so funny?"

A girl with shoulder-length brown hair comes up to us and cocks her head to the side. "You're John Lennon, right? You play at the Cavern."

John nods and waits for her to go on.

"Well, I just read that John Lennon was dating Cynthia Powell. It doesn't really look like that's true, is all."

John stops her as she turns around.

"Wait, you said that you read it?" She turns around and nods.

"Mmhm, it got around that you guys were all dating. John Lennon and Cynthia Powell, Paul McCartney and Stella McKenzie…"

"I'm not Stella McKenzie anymore."

She turns her gaze towards me.

"You're not?"

I shake my head.

"No, I moved in with the Harrison's."

She smiles a sweet smile. "Sorry, Stella Harrison." Then her gaze turns cold and hard.

"So you're dating Paul?"

I nod slowly, not sure if I want to answer this question.

"Interesting." She quickly pulls out a camera from under her jacket, takes about ten pictures, and runs away.

John and I stand there, stunned by the flash, and glance at each other.

"Well, it's not such a secret anymore, is it?"

"No. I don't think it is."