Chapter 18: Dublin
I realize that this is skipping a few chapters but I couldn't find the other ones on her account and she doesn't use it anymore so I would ask you to imagine what you think those missing chapters would be like!
The air inside the airport feels nice and cool against my skin, instantly sending a chill through my body.
"It doesn't feel like Dublin," I say, pulling my suitcase behind me.
"We crossed the border and stood in line for ages to use our passports! What do you mean it doesn't feel like we're in Dublin?" He says, laughing. I shrug.
"I don't know… I've never been to another country before."
His hand finds mine and they intertwine.
"Even if the country is right next to ours?"
"Yes Paul, it doesn't matter if the country is right next door," I smile, rolling my eyes sarcastically. "So where are we going, exactly?" I ask, looking at all of the signs hanging from the ceiling. He points straight to double doors leading into a car garage.
"Right there, Malady."
I beam. "I've never really done this before… have I mentioned that yet?" I say, smiling to him. He looks down and smiles.
"Several times, but that's okay. I still love you the same."
We keep walking in silence.
"Why aren't there any girls trying to get to you, Paul?" I ask, turning my head to him.
"Because Ireland isn't too impressed with us yet. Brian's been going on and on about it for weeks. But who really gives a crap about what they think? It's just a tiny island, tinier than Britain," he says, lowering his voice so that any angry Irish person can't hear.
"I'm sure that we'll get a few girls who ask for autographs, though. We're not completely unknown in this country."
"Are we going to have a driver for us, or are we driving?" I ask, cocking my head to the side like a little girl, which makes Paul smile.
"I'm driving, if you don't mind, Miss. I just want to be looked at as a normal person as we're here. You know where I'm coming from, right Stella?" He says, a smile spreading across his face at the thought of driving. I smile too. It's impossible not to smile when Paul does, just like it's impossible to laugh when John laughs.
"You're really cute when you smile," I say, which makes his face turn pink.
"Thank you, you're cute when you giggle after complimenting me."
I can't help but giggle, which makes him smile his toothy grin.
The humid air swirls around in the car garage outside, and we walk through rows of cars before we find one that we like.
We find one that just came out, and pass it quickly, for an old, rusty one. The car dealer is astonished that someone picked a trashy one.
Paul gets the keys and we get inside, amused by the sound of the engine.
We drive up and pay the man before driving off down the road.
"We'll check into our hotel first, and then go searching, alright?" Paul says, turning a sharp corner.
We drive down busy city streets, past suburban houses, and finally into the countryside.
I roll down the window and stick my hand out, letting the fresh air push it back. Paul laughs at the fact of no people around, and lets out a scream. I immediately put my hands up to my mouth and laugh so hard that I think I'll split my sides. Paul starts laughing too, surprised at himself.
"You never know what I'll do, do you?" He says between laughs. I shake my head, trying to control myself. Paul looks around us and smiles.
"You know what," he says, stopping the car on the side of the baron road.
"What?" I ask, looking around the car as well.
"There's nobody here…" He says, getting a crazy look in his eye. "We've got nothing to lose now…"
I just look at him, unable to hide the smile that's now on my face.
All at once, we climb into the trunk together.
We arrive at a beautiful hotel on the edge of the countryside and park the car.
Taking out the luggage, we walk through the doors into the elegant lobby, where I feel out of place, but Paul appears to fit right in.
He walks up to the desk, me on his heels, and begins talking to the man in the suit.
"What's your name, son?" The man asks, looking him in the eye.
"Paul McCartney, but I think it's under James McCartney."
The man looks unconvinced.
"You say your name's Paul McCartney? As in the petty boy from England?"
Paul and I stifle our laughter.
"Yes, sir," he says, doing everything he can not to laugh.
"May I see a license, son?"
Paul reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing the man his license. The man's face turns white, then red as he realizes that he is Paul McCartney.
"Thank you…" The man says, giving the license back.
"You'll be in room 234," he hands two sets of keys to him, and Paul hands me one.
We turn to leave, but the man stops us.
"Wait, Mr. McCartney."
Paul turns around slowly.
"Yes? This is the petty boy from England speaking."
I giggle, and Paul smiles in approval.
"About that… I'm sorry about calling you that. I have to learn not to make judgments about things – people I don't know about. Forgive me, and you have a nice stay."
Paul pretends to think about what the man said, then nods.
"Yeah, I guess it's alright. But don't expect the same reaction from John Lennon. He wouldn't appreciate that."
"Of course. Now is this woman your wife?"
Paul takes my hand.
"Her? Oh no, she's my girlfriend. But I love her like you'd love a wife. Well, we'll see you later." Paul says, and we walk down the hallway and up the stairs.
When we get to our room, we put our bags on the ground and walk out on the patio, staring out into the great wide open.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" I say, leaning my head on my hand. Paul nods and bites his lip.
"You don't really see this kind of a thing in Liverpool."
We don't say anything, just look outside.
"Do you remember that song that I used to sing at The Cavern?" Paul asks, not taking his eyes off the view.
"You sung a lot of songs at The Cavern, Paul," I say, looking up at the sky.
"Yeah, but that one – one of the first songs I wrote," He puts a hand over his eyes.
"Oh… what was it?"
It hits me. "Like Dreamers Do?"
He pops his head up again. "Yes!"
I look at him. "What about it?"
He looks back at me. "I wrote it before we were an item, remember?"
I nod slowly. "I remember, but why do you bring it up?" He gets a smile on his face that makes his dimples come out.
"I wrote it about you."
I smile and give him a quick kiss. "Aww, that's cute Paul."
His face turns a light pink.
"I thought that I'd tell you now that it's been a while since we met."
I put my head on his shoulder. "I wouldn't have minded if you told me a while ago," I say, looking into his brown eyes.
"But I'm glad you told me."
He smiles at me. "There's more coming."
I don't say anything, I can't think of anything worthwhile to say.
"You wanna go now, Stella?" He asks, moving away from me.
"Oh… sure," I say, realizing that I nearly forgot why we were in Dublin to begin with. Paul raises an eyebrow.
"You don't sound as excited as you were before…" He says, looking disappointed. I shake my head.
"No! I'm really excited! I'm sorry, I just forgot we were going, and I was lost in thought, so I wasn't really aware of what you were saying."
He smiles. "It's alright. I know where you're coming from. I've done that to you thousands of times," he says, laughing.
I roll my eyes sarcastically. "Lovely," I say. "I needed to know that."
He laughs and walks back inside. I follow him. We slip on our shoes and walk out the door, downstairs, and outside.
Paul waves to the man at the desk, and he waves back.
"Making friends, are we?" I ask, squinting in the sun.
"Well, if you're Paul McCartney, you have to," he says, unlocking the car.
We sit down on the peeling leather seats and instantly feel hot.
"It feels like a fuckin' oven in here!" Paul says, wiping his forehead.
I roll down the window. "Better?" I ask, and he shakes his head, cranking his window down as well.
"You know… never mind," he says, backing up the car and starting down the road again.
The country air feels good swirling around the car freely, and Paul seems to be enjoying the space away from fans and buildings.
I lean my head out the window and let my long hair blow behind me, squinting my eyes against the wind. Paul laughs from inside the car, and sticks his head out as well.
"What do you think people would think if they saw Paul McCartney and his girlfriend sticking their heads out the window of a car?"
Paul shakes his head. "Who cares?"
We drive into the darkness, watching the sun set behind us. The regular countryside has turned to baron wasteland, and there's about one house for every mile. In fact, there's so few, Paul and I have made a game out of it, counting every house we see on our side of the window.
We get to a little town and Paul parks the car near a cemetery, turning to me with a sad look in his eye.
"Why…" I start, and he takes my hand, biting his lip.
"Come on," he whispers, his voice low. I open my door slowly and wrap my arms around myself, confused and afraid.
Paul closes his door quietly and puts an arm around me, leading me through the steel gate.
We walk through the tombstones lined side by side, and I shiver by the thought of them. Paul turns down a different path, which leads us into one of the rows. He stops in front of one and lowers his head. I take a step toward it and fall to my knees, tears spilling down my cheeks.
The words carved into the stone blurs up, making it hard to read.
HARRY AND MELISSA BLUME – MAY THEIR SPIRITS LIVE ON INSIDE OF US FOREVER.
Paul puts his hand on my shoulder.
"No…" I say, my voice hardly coming out.
"I'm so sorry, love…"
I run my hand along the edge of it, making sure that it's there.
The date is worn off, so it's impossible to tell when they died.
I stand up next to Paul, and he wraps his arms around me.
"Who knows how long I've loved you, you know I love you still, will I wait a lonely lifetime, if you want me to, I will. For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name, but it never really mattered, I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever, love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together, love you when we're apart. So when at last I find you, your song will fill the air, sing it loud so I can hear you, make it easy to be near you, for the things you do endear you to me, oh you know I will. I will." He sings softly, his words dancing gracefully around me.
I automatically know that he wrote the song himself, nobody can write something like that.
He sways back and forth slowly, filling me with comfort.
"The baby," he says, and I feel like crying at the words. Why would he mention this now? He knows that I feel uneasy.
"The baby," I repeat, looking up at him.
He takes my hands off of him and holds them for a moment.
"I have to do something a minute. Excuse me," he lets go of my hands and kneels in front of the grave.
He takes out a tiny velvet box and holds it out to the grave. I put my hands over my mouth.
"Mr. and Mrs. Blume, my name is James Paul McCartney, and I don't know if you remember me, but we've met here before. I am extremely in love with your daughter, and think that she is the most wonderful woman you'll ever meet. And I apologize for making her pregnant with your granddaughter. I want to set things right, which makes me have to act on this quicker than I had originally planned. Your daughter is smart, beautiful, funny, sweet, nice, and more that I can never name all in one lifetime. The one thing that makes me absolutely amazed by her is the fact that she stuck with me and believed in me when nobody else did. She believed that I had talent when Liverpool and Germany turned us down. Look at us now, people have discovered us, and realized that we do have talent. I think that Stella has way more talent than I do, however, and that I could learn a lot from her. I would love to grow old with her by my side, and I want to never let her go away from my side. I love your daughter more than you can imagine. And that's why I'm asking for your blessing, and that I may make her my wife. I know that you aren't exactly able to tell me yes or no, or to shake my hand, but it would mean the world to me if you would give me a sign that shows that you understand and approve of me," he places his hand against the cool stone and looks up at the sky. I look up too.
Amazingly, a single star soars across the sky, leaving a trail of sparkles behind it.
Paul's beaming.
I'm stunned by what's going on.
He closes his hand around the box, and nods at the stone. "Thank you. I won't let you down."
He stands up, turns to me and takes my hand, his eyes sparkling.
He gets down on one knee and takes out the box once more, flipping it open to show a beautiful diamond ring, by far the prettiest thing I've ever seen.
My eyes glisten with tears of joy. He moves his thumb back and forth on my skin, which makes my heart beat fifty times the amount of a normal heart.
"Stella Blume," he says, and my heart flutters. I can tell his is too.
"We have known each other for a long, long time. You have been with me through thick and thin. We have had some pretty good times, and some sad times too. We have also done some naughty things, and I'm not sure what category to put those in exactly." I giggle at the thought of it.
"Stella, I love you with all my heart, more than anyone can ever love a person. And that's why I'm going to ask you this now. Stella Blume, will you marry me?"
I squeeze his hand tightly, fighting back tears.
"Oh Paulie… yes! Yes, I will marry you!"
I fall into his arms and hug him more tightly than ever, locking my lips on his.
After a little while, we let go, and giggle like little children.
Paul looks down at the muddy ground and wrinkles up his nose.
"I love you, and I hate to wreck the moment, but can we please stand up? The water on the grass is running through my pants."
I stand up and we laugh, his face bright red.
"Sorry about that… let me see your hand."
I hold out my hand and he takes it in his, looking up at me with a smile (Neither of us can stop).
"You're palm's all sweaty," he says, winking at me.
"Yours are too, don't try to hide it," I say, winking back.
He takes the ring out from between the two tiny pillow-like cushions surrounding it and slips it on my left hand's ring finger.
"We're officially engaged, Miss Blume," he says, and I move my fingers, watching it glimmer in the starlight.
I throw my arms around him and give him another kiss.
I then turn to the gravestone and hold out my hand to it.
"Look Mummy and Daddy! I'm engaged!"
Paul laughs and puts an arm around me.
"I hope your grandchildren look more like her than me," he says to the stone. "She's way better looking."
I hit him playfully on the arm.
"Shut up… you're making me blush."
He squeezes my side.
"Like we aren't already."
I look up at the sky and Paul follows my gaze.
"I never realized how amazing the sky really is at nighttime," he says, twirling his finger around my hair. I nod.
"Neither did I. I think it's prettier when you know that everything's going to turn out right."
He kisses my neck, which makes me giggle.
"Well love, I think we'd better get back to the hotel. We're wasting perfectly good sleep." He raises his eyebrows, and I laugh.
"Oh, I see how it is," I say, crossing my arms in front of me.
"You don't want to budge?" He says, kissing my neck again. I try hard to hide my smile.
He sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the car, making me laugh so hard I snort.
He stops walking, and I cover my mouth in embarrassment.
Then we both start laughing.
"What was that?" He says, his eyes widening.
"Well, if we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, it's better that you find out that I snort when I laugh sooner than later."
He opens the door to the passenger's side and sets me down gently inside.
He walks to the driver's side and we're off out of the tiny town.