Wildfire ~ George Harrison

Chapter 26: Words from a stranger

They had done it. The Beatles had become the first British act to have a number 1 in the States. That had been sure that there was no way they would ever make the move to the States. They wouldn't do it without a number one since all British acts that tried to make the move, failed.

They didn't want to risk their momentum in Europe by going to America for weeks on end if that wasn't going to do anything over there. But now, with a number one hit, they were going to cross the Atlantic.

I knew that if George and I were still friends, he would've made sure I was there with him. He didn't actually believe the band would ever make it on the other side of the pond, but that didn't stop him from dreaming about it. And he had told me he wanted me to come with him whenever that happened.

However, hindsight was twenty, twenty and I now had to deal with knowing what I threw away. I had to watch the British Invasion from the English telly and papers, just like the rest of England. No more backstage passes and dressing room chats. Instead, a seat on the couch next to my best friend. I couldn't be further away from the sparks and spotlight.

There were two weeks in between the announcement of their number one and when they would hop on the plane to America. Two weeks in which the country went even crazier than before. The Beatles were still in Paris where they were playing a residency. They would be back on home turf for the first few days of February and that was it.

I knew this, because everyone knew this. It was all everyone was talking about. Even my boss was talking about it. The morning paper had done a special edition in which they had described every move the Beatles would make in their two week stint in the States and when.

The country was in mayhem on the day they left. Thousands of teenage girls had congregated at Heathrow Airport to wave them off. Reports from onsite said that you could taste the excitement in the air. But when that airplane took off, it was as if a needle had burst the balloon and the anticipation deflated and suddenly there was nothing left. The fans left the airport to go home and get on with their lives.

There was a post card waiting for me when I got home from work that day. It had a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it, but barred a return address. It wasn't signed with a name, but I recognised the handwriting straight away. It was George's. I didn't know why he had sent me a post card, but I didn't think about it either. However, I couldn't deny the tingles seeing that postcard gave me.

I was surprised that he had sent me a postcard. It was the first thing I had heard from him since I had told him to leave me alone last month. All throughout December, he hadn't left a single letter in my mail slot, not even when he moved away.

I'm thinking of you,
In everything that I do.
With all that is changing,
That feeling isn't fading.

Someday my life will be flashing in front of my eyes.

I want to make sure it's worth watching.

His words though. What was he on, thinking he could mess with my feelings like that? He was thinking of me? In everything he did? Surely that wasn't true, right? It wasn't like I thought of him that much, right? Okay, I did, I still did. Of course I did.

That evening and all throughout the night, I couldn't stop thinking about George. Whenever I set my mind straight, it wandered straight back to the dark-haired guitar player. I barely slept a wink. It was no surprise that I picked up the phone on its second ring when it rung early in the morning. When it did, however, I knew for sure that Henry had been right. I had to break up with him.

'Hello?' I murmured through the receiver. Who on earth was calling me before six in the morning? I could only think of bad news. But it wasn't. As soon as I heard the smooth murmur of his Liverpudlian accent, my worries about a possible sick relative subsided and I calmed down.