Chapter 13: Goodnight

Paul peeks out of the window in disgust.

"God, I wish these girls would stop just for the night. Honestly, I swear they want us to give them our full attention all the time. It makes you tired, dealing with them."

He shuts the blinds of the hotel window, where the two of us are staying, trying to get one night together.

"Oh you poor thing. Having to stand out there, smiling and waving to girls who love you."

"Hey well," He winces at the sound of girls screaming. He puts his hands in the air as surrender, and then walks over to the TV.

He switches it on and scans the channels, finds the news, and then crawls into bed beside me.

"The mass hysteria is sweeping the nation like none other. Girls faint and scream, and boys wish they were the ones with all of that attention. Yes, folks, we're talking about the new pop phenomenon, The Beatles. The four boys by the name of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr are taking the world by storm. With their sweet voices, long hair, and fun style, all of the girls around the globe want a piece of them. Literally! People are calling this new-found craze many things, but it is best known as BEATLEMANIA."

The screen switches to show their faces, all smiling and laughing at the camera. Then they disappear to show a commercial for Beatle wigs.

Paul gets up and turns the TV off and snuggles up close to me again.

"Don't you just hate those ads?" He asks, putting his arms around me.

I don't know what to think of it. It seems all the world's changing, and I know that my world is about to change even more than I can imagine. I just hope that Paul and I don't change too much.

I wake up the next morning to find the bed empty beside me. I stretch and feel to my left, and am scared to find Paul gone.

I get up, look under the covers, on the floor, in the bathroom, on the balcony, everywhere. He's nowhere to be found.

Then I spot a note on the desk. I walk over, take it into my hands, and read.

Dear Stella,

I'm really sorry for not being able to say goodbye to you this morning. I don't know if you heard them knocking, but Brian was at the door all mad that I slept in. I gotta say, I was pretty shocked to see him so early. Turns out that I was supposed to leave bright and early this morning, but forgot. You know me, always forgetting things. Damn, I hope that I don't screw more things up. I begged Brian to let me say goodbye, and was about to wake you, but you looked so sweet and peaceful all cuddled up in the covers that I didn't want to interrupt you. You also look like an angel when you sleep, and that really bugged me the most I think, that I had to wake you. So, as you can see, being the stupid boy I am, I didn't wake you. But I left you this note. I kissed you before I left, but I don't think you remember that at all. I kissed this letter a million times all over the place (It got Brian mad that I took so long) in hopes that I can make it up to you somehow. Please forgive me… I love you to the moon and back. (Let's hope someone gets there before the Germans… I've got my money on America.) I will see you soon, I think it's only a week we'll be gone this time. That's not so long. And you know what? Maybe Cynthia will finally have her baby and we'll all get to come home to see it. (A likely excuse.) I could really care less about her baby; I only want to see mine. (That's you.) I love you, I love you, I love you.

Love you again,

Paul

P.S. Maybe if you kiss the paper, I'll feel it and then we can have some sort of connection. John told me it worked with him and Cynthia, and look at them now, all married and with a baby on its way. I don't know; just kiss the paper, love.

My eyes fill up with tears as I lift the note up to my lips and kiss it.

I then shove the paper into my pocket and lock the door to the bathroom, letting myself take the time to get ready.

A little while later, I pack up my things, pull my jacket on around me, and check myself out of the hotel.

As I'm handing the clerk the keys to the room, he glances up at me and smiles.

"Are you the girl who was staying with Paul McCartney?" He asks politely.

I nod, wondering whether I should trust him with that information.

He takes the keys into his hand and looks back up at me. It must be pretty obvious what I'm thinking right now, because he gives me a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, us folks in Liverpool don't tell a soul about Beatle girls. You must be Stella Harrison then?"

I nod again, dropping my bag of possessions on the floor.

"George's sister. You're quite in the mix with the fab four then, aren't you?"

"Yes sir," I say, forcing a smile.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, where is the boy?" He goes on, looking around the counter as if Paul will just appear out of thin air.

"Paul?" I ask, also looking behind me. He nods.

"Oh, he's not here… he's gone on tour again."

"Oh? Where to this time?" He asks, hanging the keys up behind him under the room number 9.

"France," I say casually, like it's no big deal that I woke up to find him gone.

"That must be hard on you…" He starts, his voice trailing off. I bend down and pick up my bag.

"No biggie. Happens all the time. Well, I'd better be going… Thanks for the conversation, sir." I give him a little smile and turn around.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. McCartney," he calls as I head out the door. I think I might fall down at his words. He called me Mrs. McCartney.

I wonder if he thinks that I'm married to him. I wonder if he thinks so, if everybody in Liverpool thinks so.

My head starts to spin as I walk down the street to Cynthia and John's house.

I agreed with Cynthia that when John's gone, I'll come stay at their flat and keep her company, also being there if she needs someone to take her to the hospital. I can drive, but I don't have a car, which makes it difficult to get behind the wheel. Strangely, Cynthia and John have a car, even though neither of them can drive. I guess it's just one of those things you need to do when you're becoming rich fast. And I'm glad that I'm doing something nice for Cynthia… I just hope that that baby of hers can wait until Johnny comes home before deciding it's time to go.

I knock on the door and sling my bag over my shoulder, looking down at my jeans. I wait a few minutes, and am about to knock again, when Cynthia opens the door, her stomach looking larger than life.

"Oh! You have to sit down! You didn't need to open the door... I could have walked in! I'm sorry!"

She shakes her head, panting. Her legs are trembling under the weight of her stomach.

I get under her arm and help her hobble over to the couch, where she sits down and puts her hand on her belly.

"Are you alright?" I ask, also panting after almost carrying her over here. She nods. "Yes. Sorry for that interesting welcome. Are you hungry?"

I look at her strangely, and she leans her head back.

"Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying half the time," She pats her belly. "The baby's getting in the way of things."

I nod slowly, trying to understand.

"So what's been going on with you and Paul? Anything?"

I lean back on the cushions, trying to remember something.

"Well, we went to a hotel last night."

She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. "That's always nice."

I look at her stomach and then gasp, stand up, and start pacing back and forth across the floor.

"What? Is everything alright?" She asks, trying to stand up.

"No, no! Stay sitting. Everything's okay."

I feel my eyes well up with tears as I think about it though.

"No, it's not. What's going on?"

I bite my nail as I continue to pace.

"Well, last night… I don't think that Paul had a condom on."

Cynthia's eyes bulge, and I see a trace of fear in her face.

"Are… are you sure? I think you might be just imagining things."

I turn to face her and stop pacing. "You think so?"

She smiles and puts her hand on my arm, making me sit down beside her. "Yes, I know so. You're a stressed girl! You're dating Paul McCartney, for heaven's sake! You don't know what's coming next, so you just worry about the little things like that. I'm going through the same exact thing. Everything's fine."

I think I could kiss her right now; she's made me so happy.

I fold my hands in my lap and look at my nails. "Hey Cyn?" I ask, not taking my eyes off of my nails.

"Mmhm," She replies, looking at her feet that are halfway hidden by her stomach.

"How old are you?" I say, looking up at her.

"Twenty-Two," She says, looking at me curiously.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen." I say, turning myself to face her.

"And Paul's nineteen?" She asks, her gaze moving to her shirt that doesn't match her pants.

"Yes," I say, looking at it too.

"And John's twenty-one?"

She nods. "Why did you want to know how old I was?" She asks, and when I don't answer, she adds, "Oh. Right."

We get quiet after that, and I wish that I didn't bring that up. I was just curious. "So did you get a call from John yet?" I ask, trying to change the subject. She nods and beams.

"Yes, he called me about an hour after he left, checking that I didn't 'explode'." She rolls her eyes and I giggle.

"Pure Lennon right there," I say between laughs.

"You got that right," She says, smiling. "So have you heard from Paulie?"

I shake my head and look down at my feet again.

"I'm sure he'll call soon. He loves you a ton. I really don't think that he can make it any longer without calling. In fact, I think that he will call sometime in the next ten minutes."

Then Cynthia winces and her hand flies to her stomach, where she scrunches up for a minute or two.

"Cynthia! Are you alright?" I say, trying to stay calm.

She nods and holds up a finger meaning 'one second'.

I don't know what to do to help her at the moment, so I just stand there, waiting in case she needs me. Then she takes a deep breath and relaxes again.

"I hate when the baby does that."

I nod, probably more scared than her. "I do too."

You won't believe this now, but sometime around the ten minute mark, the phone rings. I scramble to get to it, holding it up to my ear and clutching the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey babe… did you get my note?" Paul's voice.

"Yes, and you almost made me cry." I reply, giving a little laugh.

"Aw, I didn't want that. Listen, I'm really sorry…"

"It's alright. It's in the past now. You didn't mean it. It wasn't your fault."

"Thanks for understanding, love. I still feel guilty though."

"Don't be."

"So how's Cyn? You with her?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She just had this weird cramping thing. False alarm though."

"Did you keep it cool?"

"Yeah… that's what I did…"

He laughs.

"Well that's good. Now you know to keep calm."

"It's harder than it looks."

"Hey, at least you aren't the one giving birth at any second."

It's my turn to laugh.

"So where are you now, Paulie?"

"We've just landed in France. It's actually not that great being in Paris when your love isn't with you."

"Aw, honey…"

"We're coming back here sometime, just me and you."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, it would. Crap, the guys are telling me that we've gotta go. We're only in the airport."

"Alright, when are you coming home?"

"If Cynthia doesn't pop, in four days. If she does, sooner."

"What happened to the longer time?"

"We don't need to be here that long. John and I managed to knock off a few days."

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, ma'am." John's voice.

"God, John! Quit it!" Paul yells.

I giggle.

"Alright, well, I'm going to get my ear pulled off if I don't stop talking to you, so I guess until then."

"Until then."

"Hope she pops."

"Not when I'm alone with her!"

"Just stay cool, love."

"But…"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I set the phone back on the receiver and sit next to Cynthia again, folding my legs Indian style.

"Was it Paul?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He sent his all his loving to me."

"Lovely."

"Lovely."