Perfect World [George Harrison]

[ ONE ]

Lola rarely allows herself to imagine a perfect world. First, because its selfish. When she pictures this perfect world, its her perfect world. She doesn't think about others, and how very little change it would bring to their lives. Second, it's ridiculous and pointless to imagine such a word. Third, because imagining something she doesn't have, and desperately wants is painful. In the rare occasion Lola is alone, she allows herself to picture this perfect world.

Her mother is still alive in this scenario. She see's Lola grow up. She see's Lola fall in love, achieve academic greatness, and turn into a beautiful woman. She nurses Lola back to health with warm soups and cold cloths. She loves her every second of every day, so much it hurts.

In this perfect world, Lola belongs, instead of feeling misplaced in the city she was born in. Lola also feels comfortable in her own skin, instead of feeling like a chameleon always changing colors. Opening her eyes at the sound of the telephone ringing, Lola is pulled violently from her reverie and back into reality. There's a split second where Lola doesn't know which is which, reality or fiction.

That split second is the most misleading of all, and the most painful. It makes Lola want to stay in bed all day, without pulling her curtains open. It makes Lola lose her appetite, and not want to see anyone all day. Lola feels her heart bleed as she gets up from bed. This is why, Lola reminds herself, this is why she doesn't let herself imagine this perfect world too much.

Lola makes her way to the living room, where the telephone is. The pounding of her head, dry lips, and burning eyes remind her what she did the previous night. It was really her fault for agreeing to go out the past three nights, but she couldn't help herself. If she was gone for more than a day, she felt like she was missing out.

She picked up the telephone. "Hello?"

"Where are you, Lola?" Addy asked. Addy, along with Lola, belonged in Nancy's world. Rarely, if ever the group of friends did things alone. "You need to get dressed and come here!"

"Podria usar un dia en casa, Addy. I live in a permanent state of hangovers," she replied. Lola knew that no matter how much she inserted Spanish in conversations, Addy didn't understand. She could picture Addy rolling her eyes.

"Fine, miss out on meeting the Beatles, tu merde!" Addy cursed. Oh, god, Lola remembered now. They were going to spend their next two weeks in Paris. Nancy's dad was one of the owners of the venue where they were playing. Nancy's dad arranged for Nancy to give them a tour.

"Bien," Lola said. "I'll come."

"I'm at Nancy's place. À tout à l'heure," Addy hung up the phone. Lola put the telephone down, and headed towards the restroom.

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The Beatles were spending the next couple of weeks in Paris. But tonight was their first performance. They were backstage, hanging around, all but George. He was checking and re-checking everything was working accordingly. John was sitting down with a guitar, Paul next to him. Ringo was taking a nap on the couch. George ran a comb through his hair, letting out a sigh.

"What?" John asked. He looked up from his guitar. He had a pen on his mouth, a small little black notebook on his thigh.

"Hm?" George asked.