As soon as they returned, cases in hand, Paul got up to take on out. He returned carrying a nylon-string acoustic, and plopped it in my lap.
"There you go." He said, his eyes twinkling.
"SHE PLAYS GUITAR TOO?" Asked Ringo and George incredulously, perfectly in unison with each other. I glared at Paul. He smiled teasingly. "Come 'ed, not, it won't kill you." I shook my head, and put the guitar in Paul's lap. He pushed it back onto mine. I picked the guitar up...stood up...walked over to George, and dropped it ceremoniously into his arms.
He protested, laughing, but I walked away again and stood in the middle of the room, daring him to try to give it to me again.
"All right, all right, I give," laughed Paul. "Some other time, then." I stuck my tongue out at him and crossed my eyes. This time it was John's turn to chuckle as Paul reddened with embarrassment. It was the first time that I had ever heard him genuinely laugh. It was a nice sound, rich and deep. Paul finally laughed after him. His laughter was hidden was higher, (as was his voice,) and sounded more like a child snickering than a grown man laughing. George looked on, slightly bewildered. I stared at the guitar in his arms.
"Something tells me she wants you to play." Paul pointedly said to George.
"Hmm? Oh. All right, then. What?" Was he going to make me talk again? I preferred not to. I looked at Paul. He looked back at me.
"What do you want Georgie to play?"
"Grr...you know I had that *&*$#$ nickname." George put in. I winced. It was the fourth or fifth time that they had said that particular swear word in five minutes.
"Play...'You Like Me Too Much'," I requested, softly. George leaned forward.
"Come again, luv, I can't hear you."
"'You Like Me Too Much'!" Ringo and John chimed in.
"Oh! All right, then." He began to strum chords. "Though you've gone away this morning, you'll be back again tonight, telling me there'll be no next time, if I just don't treat you right. You'll never leave me and you know it's true. 'Cos you like me too much and I like you!!!" I found myself closing my eyes and moving to the music. Without even thinking, I suddenly began to sing along. "You've tried before to leave me, but haven't got the nerve...to walk out and make me lonely, which is all that I deserve. You'll never leave me and you know it's true. 'Cos you like me too much and I like you! I really do...and it's nice when you believe me...if you...leave me...I will follow you and bring you back where you belong. 'Cos I couldn't really stand it: I'd admit that I was wrong! I wouldn't let you leave me, 'cos it's true: 'Cos you like me too much and I lke you!" I jumped over to the piano to play George Martin's solo.....
By the time the song was over, all of the Beatles were smiling brightly, and I was blushing furiously. I looked around the room. George was grinning...John was smiling...Ringo was beaming...and Paul's eyes were sparkling with happiness and amusement.
"Cor, if you'd said that you'd sing Beatles songs I would have played you some before!" I covered my face with my hands. All of a sudden, every single fear that I had had in talking vaporized. I was with friends, friends who loved music like I did, and friends who were not afraid to be what they wanted. And so every single thing that had happened to me over the past few days poured out of my mouth in a constant flow of anguish, despair, and relief that I didn't have to hold it any longer.
I don't know if I knew what I was saying, or if they even knew. But I did know that when I was done, five minutes later, I was crying again. Reliving the memories of pain and sorrow had done little for my optimist...I sat down on the floor and cried my eyes out until there was nothing left to cry. When I was done, I looked up again at Paul. My eyes were still watering.
"I'm sorry," I said in a wavery voice, "I'm so lucky to have met you. You're such a wonderful person. And thank you for listening......."
John, George and Ringo were all stunned, and at a loss for words.
"You mean-" George spoke up, "that- you really did- that really happened- did you get- are you all right?"
"I don't know." I said truthfully. "I really don't know. Not yet. I don't think I'll ever be able to love another boy again. Or man."
Paul leaned forward to whisper craftily into my ear.
"I think I may be willing to try and change that." He murmured invitingly. I blushed red as a beet, and all of the Beatles laughed together. Finally, I joined in. And it felt so good. So good.
The End
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