Lonely People

Yesterday England, Today The World

Molly didn't have much time to recover before we were shoved in a van and sent across the country. It was time for the first ever Beatles world tour, featuring Revolution as their opening act. All of us were buzzed with excitement, except for Molly.

Molly's grief didn't go away quickly. Nobody could get over something as massive as losing their father overnight. That was a wound that would take years to heal, but it was still a wound. Wounds heal, no matter how long it takes. Eventually, Molly would be alright.

She sat next to me, leaning against the door with a forlorn look on her face. It hurt to see her like this, even if I understood why. I did everything I could think of to try and make her laugh. I knew she wouldn't. Having gone through something similar myself, I knew exactly how she felt, but I couldn't stand to see her look like she wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry for all eternity. 

"Look, a flock of cows," I pointed to a group of cows in the field.

Ellen sighed, "Herd of cows, Amelia."

"Of course I've heard of cows, there's a flock of them right there."

Janice and Peter both belted out in laughter. Even Ellen smiled a bit, but Molly didn't even blink. She kept her eyes on the passing Irish countryside. I gazed at her and my smile slowly fell.

All of us felt it. Her depression filled the van, giving us all a gloomy atmosphere. I knew I had to do something. She couldn't get over this, I knew she couldn't, but I could do something to make it bearable. I just had to figure out what.

"Didja hear the one about the French postman?" I asked.

Ellen frowned, "I think we've had enough jokes for today, Amelia."

"An hour is more than enough," Janice mumbled.

I sighed, "Sorry, just trying to make the trip a little easier."

Nobody replied. I kept glancing over at Molly. I wasn't sure if I was checking to see if she was smiling, or if I was checking to make sure she was still breathing. She simply stared out the window, her eyes focusing on nothing and her mind flying off to a world all her own.

"How much longer, Elly?" I moaned.

"Three hours," Ellen replied, "We'll be early if we keep going like this."

Janice glanced at me. I caught her eye and lifted an eyebrow. She nodded ever so slightly, telling me all I needed to know. When you spend as much time with someone as the three of us did, you develop a sort of telepathic link. You can talk to each other through just facial expressions. Janice often used that to avoid talking, especially when she wanted to ask something.

"But I'm hungry. Can we stop for a bite?" I asked.

Ellen sighed deeply, "Can you wait until we get there?"

"No," I replied, "I'm so hungry I could eat the entire flock of cows."

Janice mumbled, "I am too."

Ellen, like the rest of us, had grown accustomed to Janice's quiet musings. For what seemed like the thousandth time that hour, she sighed, "Fine. There's a diner up ahead, we'll stop there."

She pulled off of the dirt road. The diner was a large building with a green roof. The sign was sunbleached to the point where I couldn't read it. What caught my eye first was the large plaster cow standing in the middle of the parking lot.

"Look at that beauty," I whistled as we all climbed out of the car, "Hey, Jan, take a picture of me, will ya?"

I shoved the camera into her arms and hurried to the cow. Before Ellen could say otherwise, I launched onto it's back. It was slick, and I nearly slid off, but I managed to remain steady. Janice snapped a picture when I threw my arms up.