Epilogue.
Her experience in France was more than she expected, she visited castles and interviewed the most interesting historians; John visited once, and Deena and Mina also went to see her, that made her feel better, even her mother's calls were encouraging. Once she returned she applied for job in another magazine, but this time it was at the V&A museum, a cultural magazine. Fortunately, the woman who interviewed her was more than 60 years old and had no idea who the Beatles were, so she didn't have to use a fake name. She started working and that assured her stay in London.
The Beatles had their busiest year ahead, and a lot of touring, she didn't see them often, although John made sure to always call her, every time he did he was encouraged by the others to get her as a girlfriend, but he was scared and didn't want to ruin any possible relationship he could build. He didn't get to see her for at least two months, he felt so bad when he had to celebrate his birthday in Liverpool and wasn't able to invite her, because of her work; since that October he tried to call her less and avoided visiting her, he had in his mind that she had to let her free... and if she started to see other men , he certainly didn't want to know a thing.
They toured and conquered America, John did call her from there...but because he had other thing to celebrate, her book had just came out for the holidays, they cleverly added another name instead of hers, so everyone were wondering if that was the author the article was talking about, that made the sales skyrocket.
He was scolded by the others because they intended to call their family but John was busy talking with her, and this time it didn't last the hour it always did, but more than three hours.
Next year, 1964, the months of February and March passed, the calls were less frequent and she didn't talk nor see any of them during April nor May, she only received two letters, and she was flattered when John informed her that Paul was writing a song using her name.
One day she was invited for a party, it was at one of the curators of a museum exhibition.
"Michelle is also going to start teaching this summer some courses for the kids, it must be really interesting," Mrs. Connor, her boss, informed some of the guests.
She only blushed.
"That is a brilliant idea," one guest said, "instead of listening to those pop songs all day, some culture and history during this summer will save their brains. I mean take a look at those Beatle guys, those Liverpudlian boys are in no way teaching the new generation something valuable."
"I have to disagree," she strongly said, regretting a bit the courage that overtook her, "they don't come from a wealthy or influential background, and still they managed to save this country."
"Harold Wilson is saving this country," he said in a humored way, making the others laugh.
"Sure, but those young men are teaching at least that art is important, no matter where you come from."
Her boss looked at her admiringly, "And that is exactly the message those children will learn during their summer course." She agreed
It was almost midnight she returned home by cab, as she paid the driver she heard "Eight Days a Week" playing on a car that was parked across her street, she smiled to herself, as the cab driver left, she turned to see the car parked and she recognised the silhouette; Michelle doubted for a second but then he honked, and she knew it was John. She crossed the street and saw him move from the driver's seat to the passenger one.
She entered and sat, "Hello stranger, were you waiting for me?"
"No, I'm waiting for your neighbor," he pointed at an old lady that was returning to her house.
"She's married I'm afraid,"
"Too bad," he saw her staring at him, with one of the most genuine smiles he had ever seen in her.
"I can't believe you decided to visit me... you look like a cardboard cutout, are you real?" She said as she touched his arm. After not seeing him for three months, and not counting that she hardly saw him or talked to him for more than 9 months, she felt awkward touching him.
"Of course, oh and I can prove that," he lunged at her kissing her, he had a hand on the back of her head, he wanted to make sure her lips didn't separate from his as he took every of her breaths, and placed his left hand one on her neck, her lips tasted like wine which worry him, thinking she could had been returning from a date made him kiss her more passionately arousing her more. He moved his left hand to her breasts making her moan between kisses, but when he was aiming for under her skirt, he accidentally honked the car horn; it made them laugh and giggle, and stop the romantic embrace.
"You're going to wake up the whole street," she said, "I truly missed you." She reconginsed, not knowing where that confession came from.
"I did too, sorry if I didn't visit you... I was afraid you had moved on, ...and if you did that's fine," he said feeling he was being too emotional he added, "I'm more sorry for your date, it'd take a lot of effort to beat my kiss."
"I'm not seeing anyone, is that what you're implying?" She nervously started to touch her earrings, she wanted so bad to ask him if he was seeing someone.
"Great, then I don't have to fight anyone if I do this," he said grabbing her tight.
"Y'know already that I don't date, I'm too snobbish to allow my time to men, and sadly I don't think I'm into women," she explained, feeling his hand going under her skirt he stopped him to ask, "Are you still with that American lady?"
He turned to her and looked at her strange, "I see you like gossips now," he moved his hand to her hand, "If you ought to know, I flirted with her, she was one of our stylists in our American tour, I took her to dinner once; then the story gets creepy she began to call me, she wrote some bizarre poems and, the more I rejected her the more she tried to get closer... and I think you'd be friends she sold her story to the newspaper," he joked, receiving a suspicious look from her. "That was all."
"It makes me feel better, knowing that I don't have to apologise to any one for that kiss." She said with sarcasm and jealousy in her mind.
"Exactly," he said and took her hand putting it seductively on his pants, "now let's continue with our indecency, shall we?" He tried to kiss her again while rubbing her hand on him.
She giggle, "Stop! you'll get us arrested." She pushed him softly.
"Fine, then show me you're other skills..." He raised his eyebrows in a cheeky way, "you said in February you were taking driving lessons." He gave her the keys to start the car.
"You think I'm bad at it don't you?" She said, as she started the car and drove, "I follow all the rules, the speed limit-."
"You're a bore!" He mocked her, "Ok, love. You're going to drive during our trip... this time we'll get to Scotland, but you have to gas it, because I only got two weeks off."
She wanted to break but the light had turned green, "Are you taking me with you?" She asked and got an affirmative response, "Should I return and pack..."
He raised his arms and placed them on the back of his, "Nah! I'll buy you new clothes there." He said, then he got close to her and assured, "Also something for that finger of yours." He said pointing to her fourth finger in her left hand.
She opened her mouth in surprise, quickly closing it to hide her surprise, although she hadn't smile, she was afraid for some reason to turn and glance at him, and also she was driving.
He looked at her in amusement, for a moment it scared him not to see a reaction from her.
"Are you sure you love me...as much as I love you?" She asked, never taking the sight from the street.
"Yes," he said giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, "And this time I'll be the one asking the important questions...not you."