Stuart and Astrid came in December. It was a heartwarming reunion, though Stuart didn’t look very well.
Astrid And Stuart’s mother did not get along too well. Both loved Stuart to pieces and wanted nothing more than to make him happy. Both were hard headed, strong women and they clashed.
Two days before Stuart and Astrid were to return to Hamburg, Stuart took Emma out for a walk.
“Are you sure you are alright?” Emma asked Stuart for the hundredth time since he got to Liverpool. They had walked down by the river, near the spot where they had first met and hopped up onto a wall that ran along the sea walkway.
“I’m fine, for the hundredth time. It’s just these headaches. The doctors can’t find anything.”
“Maybe you should go to the States or something where they have good doctors.” Emma suggested, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I don’t like to see you in pain.”
Stuart wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. You have too much to think about. You leave soon.”
“Don’t remind me. This is so bloody scary.”
“But you will do fine. I knew from that first day I met you that you were going to become an amazing painter. And every year you get better and better.”
“When we are both really famous painters, we should have an exhibit together. We can get John and Cyn and Paul and George and even Pete to all do paintings. We all are in this together. I will not leave anybody behind.”
“To the toppermost of the poppermost, as John would say,” Stuart quoted.
After that they sat in silence for awhile, just enjoying one another’s company.
Stuart nudged Emma’s shoulder.
“What?” Emma asked, nudging him back.
“Nothing,” then he hopped off the wall and faced Emma. “Come on. We’re going to be late.” He reached out his hand for her to take.
“Where are we going, Stuart?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Emma laughed, took his hand, and hopped off the wall.
Emma tried guessing where they were going as they walked down the streets of Liverpool, but Stuart would not give in.
After about ten minutes of walking, they stooped in front of the Waterfront gallery. Emma looked at Stuart. “Are we going in there?”
Stuart nodded.
“But it’s ten thirty at night. It’s closed.”
Stuart walked up the steps and opened the front door.
“What is going on?!” Emma cried.
He just smiled and motioned for her to come inside.
She laughed and climbed the steps. It was dark inside. Stuart led her down a hallway. At the end of the hall was a door. Stuart opened the door and they entered another dark room.
“Stuart!” Emma laughed.
Just then Stuart flicked on the lights and a chorus of ‘Surprise!’ came from around the room.
Emma stood there shocked. There stood John, Paul, Cyn, Astrid, George and Pete. They started laughing at the surprised expression on her face.
“What is going on!?” Emma cried.
Cyn came up and hugged Emma. ‘We’re having a going away party for you now, while Astrid and Stuart are here,” she explained.
“I can’t believe this!” Emma shouted.
John stepped forward and took Emma’s hand. He lead her to the middle of the room where a chair was positioned in front a white screen. He had her sit down on the chair. “George, the lights.” He instructed. George turned off the lights and the room was illuminated by white Christmas lights. Then a picture of Emma when she was a baby came up on the white screen.
Emma spun around in her chair and saw Pete at a slide projection. She turned back around and started to laugh, covering her face with her hands.
John began to talk. “Emma Lynn James was born on April 10 1942 in London England to proud parents, Kate and David James. As a young child, Emma was shy and quiet and often found comfort and joy with her box of crayons. It was a look into the future of things to come.” A picture of Emma covered in paint, smiling at the camera, came on the screen. Her friends laughed while Emma’s face turned red. “In 1951, Mr. James’ work took him and his family to Winnipeg, Manitoba. There Emma matured into a young woman and also her art career unfolded. She won several art competitions,” a picture of Emma standing beside a painting of a horse, holding a blue ribbon, flashed on the screen. “In 1958 Emma and her mother arrived in good ol’ Liddypool. Here Emma was immediately accepted into the Liverpool College of Art. Here she befriended the ever so handsome John Lennon and Stuart Sutcliffe.” A picture of the three of them standing in front of the art college came up. That picture brought tears to her eyes. John continued. “She became part of the ‘beatle gang’ as it has become labeled. Even found true love.” Paul and Emma appeared on the screen, smiling lovingly at one another. “Emma will be leaving us in a few weeks for the big city of New York.” John looked Emma straight in the eye. “Though she will be thousands of miles away, her spirit and presence will forever remain in Liverpool and our hearts.” He stepped away from the screen, stepping into darkness so no one could see the tears streaming down his face. Just then home movies came up on the screen. Movies shot by Pete. There they all were in Hamburg. Art School. The Cavern. How was she going to be able to leave?
Everyone gave Emma small gifts to remember them buy. Pete got her a new portfolio to carry all her art supplies in. George presented her with a black leather bound journal. Cyn had gotten Emma a new dress to wear her first day. It was a black A neck that went just below the knees and was covered in tiny blue flowers. Astrid and Stuart gave her a camera, ‘so you can document New York City for us,’ Stuart had said. John said she couldn’t have her gift until later and Paul had already given her his gift, a romantic evening two nights before with dinner and dancing and later they made love for the first time.
The party kicked into full swing after she had opened all her gifts. There was food and music, even a bit of Jazz. Paul and Emma slow danced to Nat King Cole’s ‘Let’s Fall In Love.’
“This will be our song,” he whispered into her ear as they moved across the floor.
Around one am, Stuart and Astrid got ready to leave. Emma went up and gave them each a hug, thanking them for the amazing night.
Not long after Stuart and Astrid left, everyone else started to leave. Emma thanked everyone again and then left with Paul.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Emma observed as they took a shortcut through an ally.
Paul stopped walking and looked at the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked.
Paul kicked at a stone, his hands shoved in his leather jacket pockets.
“Paul?”
He looked up at Emma. “I don’t think I can do this, Emmie.” He confessed.
“Do what?” Emma whispered, here heart pounding in her chest.
“You’re going to be so far away. I don’t know how I can deal with that.”
Emma stared at Paul in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘you don’t think you can do it’?”
Paul wouldn’t look her in the eyes. He kept his gave down at the ground. “I don’t know if I will be able to trust you.”
“What!?” Emma cried.
“New York City is a big place with lots of people. How can I believe that you wont find someone else?”
“This is a joke, right? What’s wrong?”
“No. No it’s not,” Paul answered in all seriousness. “You’re moving away to another country. There will be an ocean separating us! How do you expect me to be? In a happy mood? If that’s what you want, then . . .”
“Stop it!” Emma cried. She was almost on the verge of tears. “Jesus, Paul! What is your problem? You think this was an easy choice for me? I had to decide if I wanted to leave behind the life I was used to and start a new one, leave the people I loved.”
“And you made that decision.”
“I have to do this, Paul. It scares the hell out of me, but I have to do this.”
For the first time since they began talking Paul looked Emma straight in the eyes. “I’m just worried that things between us will change.”
“Change?” Emma questioned.
“We’ll be so far apart from each other. We’ll have to keep a long distance relationship going. I don’t think I can do that.”
Emma felt like she had been slapped in the face. “So this is it?” She whispered. Then she got angry. “You’re saying you wont be able to trust me! I stuck with you every time you went off on one of your gigs! Every time! Not once did I question your trust! And now you are standing her telling me you don’t think you can trust me!” She twisted off the ring that he had given her. The sapphire ring with the inscription, with you I am complete, and threw it at his feet. Looking him straight in the eyes she whispered, “Now you won’t have to worry about trusting me anymore.” Spinning around on her heel, she walked away from Paul who had just stood there, and didn’t look back.
Emma said goodbye to Stuart the next day. She didn’t mention anything when John questioned where Paul was. Stuart and John could sense that something was wrong but didn’t say anything.
“What happened?” Stuart whispered into Emma’s ear as they hugged goodbye.
“We broke up,” she whispered back. Tears streamed down her face.
“Oh, Emmie.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Take care of yourself Stuart.”
“I love you Emma James and I always will.”
“Goodbye Stuart.”
John and Emma stood and watched as Astrid and Stuart disappeared behind the terminal.
“He broke up with you, didn’t he?” John asked as they walked out of the airport.
“No, I broke up with him.”
Emma sat cradled in John’s arms on the couch in her bed room.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“You’re going.”
“But what if . . .”
“Emma, you’re going to do fine. You’ll have the time of your life. Take this opportunity.”
Emma was still amazed at how John knew her so well.
“I know you so well because we are so much alike.”
Emma laughed. “You’re too much, Lennon!” Then she got quiet. “God, I’m going to miss you so bloody much.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“I know. And I’m going to miss you, but this is how things are. This is the direction our lives are going and unfortunately, we’re not going in the same direction, but we need to accept that.”
“Don’t get all philosophical on me now, John!”
John laughed. “If people only knew!”
(*note* this next little part is taken from back beat. Yes i stole some text, but it fit here and i am going to use it. You can criticize me all you want but i am going to keep it here. It’s not like i will be having this published!)
Emma snuggled deeper into John’s arms. “Tell me something, John Lennon. When you are rich and famous, when you are number one, when your name is in lights and everybody wants to be your friend and somebody asks you, ‘do you remember Emma in Liverpool?’ what will you say?”
“I’ll say she was the girl I always wanted, the girl of my dreams. I might have fallen in love with her, but she fell in love with my best mate.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m not in love with Stuart like that.”
“I’m talking about Paul.”
Emma knew he was talking about Paul but she didn’t want to think of him. “He doesn’t love me, though.” she pulled herself out of John’s embrace. “He doesn’t trust me.”
John watched as Emma got up and pulled a sweater over her head. “Paul doesn’t trust himself.”
“I should never have allowed myself to fall in love with him,” she scolded herself. “But I never thought I would be moving thousands of miles away. That’s just like me, though. I always fuck things up in the end.”
John got up from the couch and walked over to Emma. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You didn’t fuck this up. You can’t help the way you feel and if Paul doesn’t love you back, then forget about him. You’re a beautiful girl,” he gently brushed away a tear that had escaped and slid down her cheek. “Think of all the cute American guys you’ll be meeting.”
Emma smiled.
John pulled he into a hug. “You’ll be fine, Emmie. You’ll be fine.”
“No way!” Emma cried, getting up from her kitchen table. John had come over and propositioned the idea of Emma riding with the group to London when they go for their audition at Decca instead of having Emma’s mother dish out some money for the train.
“Why not?” Her mother asked.
Emma shot a look at her mother who she hoped would have been on her side. “I just don’t think . .. “
”Forget Paul’s in the van. You are coming with us.”
“You’ll have to go with John,” her mother told her. “I can’t afford to send you by train.”
“Fine,” she cried.
On Friday night Emma said goodbye to her mother and promised a hundred times that she would phone her the minute she got to her dorm room.
They were all meeting at Neil’s house and as luck would have it, Emma got stuck between Paul and John. Paul was sitting on the middle seat by the window and Emma was getting into to sit in the very back near George when John shoved her in beside Paul and sat down so she couldn’t get out. Emma glared at John, then shoved him over a bit with her elbow so she wasn’t touching Paul.
Emma tried to ignore the fact that Paul was just inches, but she couldn’t. She could smell him, feel him. It was unbearable. Since their break up they hadn’t spoken to one another let alone been in the same room together.
“Stop the car!” Emma cried suddenly. She needed air.
Neil slammed on the breaks and everyone turned and looked at Emma
“Are you okay?” John asked.
Emma turned and looked at Paul. He was staring out the window. She turned back and looked at John. “I need air.”
John opened the sliding side door and got out of the van and reached back to help Emma out. She started walking back and forth on the verge of tears. Finally John grabbed her by the shoulders and stopped her.
“Emma! What’s wrong?”
Emma looked in John’s eyes. How she was going to miss him. “I’m fine, John. Really. Just a mix of emotions and car sickness.” She smiled trying to reassure him.
He looked skeptical, then wrapped an arm around her. He slid open the door and this time he got in first and sat next to Paul.
“Everything okay?” Neil asked.
Emma nodded. “I was just feeling a bit car sick. I’m okay now.”
“All right then,” Neil replied starting up the van and they were off again.
They arrived in London with three hours to spare before Emma had to be at the airport.
They went to the hotel first so the guys could drop off their luggage. They were getting to leave when Emma spoke up.
“I don’t want all of you coming to the airport with me. It’ll be harder to leave.”
“Okay,” John answered. “Brian can go with you to the airport. You can’t go alone.”
Emma agreed to that.
“We’d better get going then,” Brian told Emma.
“Okay.” She stood up from the bed she had been sitting on. “I guess this is it,” she whispered.
She went to Pete first and gave him a hug. She was going to miss him. She was the only one who got Pete to open up and they sometimes spent hours talking about anything and everything. “Take care, Pete.”
“Good luck Emma.”
Neil was next. “Watch over them, Neil,” she whispered to him.
“It’s all taken care of, Em. Take care. I’ll miss ya.”
She smiled then went to George. “I’m going to miss you,” she cried, hugging him. “You’re a good guitar player, George.” She whispered. “They admire you.”
“Take care of yourself in the big city,” he told her, hugging her back. “Just don’t forget me when you are a famous painter.”
Emma laughed. “There’s no chance of that happening!”
Next she was in John’s arms. She couldn’t even say goodbye, her emotions choking her up. “Good bye, John,” she finally managed to get out.
“Not goodbye, Emmie. Just see you later.”
She smiled. “See you later, Lennon. See you at the top.” The tears slid down her cheeks.
“See you at the top.”
“Oh, wait!” Emma reached into her carry on bag and pulled out a small box. And handed it to John.
“What’s this?” He asked. “You’re the one leaving, Emmie. You’re not supposed to be buying the presents!”
“Just open it!” She encouraged him.
He removed the lid and took out the watch she had bought him.
“Read the back,” she insisted.
John flipped the watch over and squinted at the inscription. “To the toppermost of the poppermost, see you there John. Love Emma.”
John hugged her again and Emma knew that is she didn’t leave now, she never could.
She let go of John and picked up one of her suitcases. She followed Brian to the door and the stopped and turned around o look at her friends one last time. Paul had been standing in the doorway of the bathroom the whole time. She wanted to drop everything and run into his arms. Their eyes met and for one split second Emma thought she saw the shield drop from his eyes and the real Paul come out. His eyes were so sad, but just as quickly the shield came back up and his cold hard stare looked back at her. She nodded her head then turned and followed Brian out of the hotel room and into an elevator. When the doors closed the tears flowed. Brian reached and put his arm around her.
When they reached the lobby a bell boy helped then take her bas to a waiting taxi that took them to the airport.
After checking in her luggage, they walked to her boarding gate.
“Thank you, Brian.” She said, giving him a hug. “You take care of my Beatles,” she smiled when they pulled apart.
“I will. I’ll take them all the way to the top.”
“Flight 107 to New York City now boarding.”
“That’s me,” Emma said.
“Call us as soon as you get to your apartment. Don’t make us worry.”
“Yes, dad!” Emma laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your call. John already gave me the lecture so you will for sure be getting my call. Thank you Brian.” She thanked him one last time and then headed down the terminal to board her plane.
She had a window seat near the back of the plane and no one ended up sitting beside her, which she was thankful for. She didn’t need some stranger questioning her through the whole flight about why she was in tears. She fell asleep almost immediately after the plane took off and woke up periodically during the flight. Almost 12 hours after the plane had taken off in London, it touched down in New York City.
She gathered up her stuff and followed the line of people out of the plane. It had all been arranged that Emma would be in a dorm at the school and someone would be there to pick her up.
She scanned the crowd of people and her eyes fell on a girl holding a sing that said Emma James in big block letters. She hesitated and then walked over to the girl.
“Emma James?” The girl asked when Emma approached her.
Emma nodded her head.
“I’m Laura Emrick.”
Laura just a few inches shorter than Emma with long auburn hair that was pulled back into a high pony tail. Her eyes were an ice blue. She was dressed in a knee length rose skirt with matching jacket and to top it off she had on a forties styled baby blue pea coat.
“It’s nice to meet you? Are you my roommate?” Emma asked
“Yep! Only, we wont be staying at the dorms. There was a bit if a mix up.”
“Oh?”
They began walking towards the luggage claim.
“Yeah. Seems they over booked. So we don’t have a room at the dorm. But have no fear! I found a great two bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village. It’s perfect! What do your suitcases look like?”
Emma laughed. She liked Laura immediately. “That’s fine. They are two large black ones. They have a purple ribbon attached to them. Thank you for thinking of me. You don’t even know me.”
“We were going to be roommates!” Laura cried, grabbing one of Emma’s suitcase. “I wasn’t going to let you freeze to death on the New York City streets. Besides, you’re English and I just love your accent!”
Emma smiled and grabbed her last suitcase. “Well thank you!”
“Come on! I want you to see our new place!”
Emma followed Laura out of the airport and stood, watching Laura hail a cab.
“Are you from New York?” Emma asked Laura once they were inside a cab.
“Chicago, actually, but my aunt lives here so I’ve been visiting since I was seven. You are going to love it!”
The two girls talked as if they were old friends. When the taxi stopped in front of five story building, they got out and collected Emma’s suitcases.
“We’re on the fourth floor,” Laura informed Emma as they got into an elevator. It’s good because we can use the fifth floor as a studio. Well you can, I’m not a painter. I’m a writer. The reason we get the fifth floor is because my friend Jake owes me and his uncle owns the building. So we have full access to the fifth floor and we don’t have to pay! Well, here we are!” Laura unlocked apartment 4 and pushed open the door. “I haven’t really done anything with it. I thought I would wait for you.”
Emma followed Laura inside. When you first walk in you enter the livingroom. It’s a large room with floor to ceiling windows at the front. To the left when you walk in is the kitchen. To the right is the hallway to the two bedrooms.
Laura grabbed Emma’s arm. “Come on! I’ll show your room and then we can go take a look at your studio!!”
Emma’s room was the last room at the end of the hallway.
“You get this room because you can get to the fifth floor from inside the closet! Do you like the room?”
Emma stood and turned around taking in everything. The bed pushed against the window which had a sill that was big enough for someone to sit down on. A large dresser sat against the wall to the left of when you walked in. A roll top desk sat against the wall to the right of when you walked in and just past that was the closet.
“Can we go up?” Emma asked, pointing to the closet door.
“Of course!” Laura cried.
They walked up the ten steps and entered a dark room. Laura ran her hand along the walls searching for a light switch. Locating it, the room was illuminated.
The two girls stood there, mouths hanging open. It was one giant room with stairs at the other side leading to a large loft. There were no outside walls. Just windows.
“Oh my god,” Emma breathed.
“More like oh my fucking god!” Laura cried. “This is amazing! Mind if I come up here and write somedays?”
“Of course! I just can’t wait to get my things set up!”
Laura and Emma furnished the apartment and got into the swing of classes. The two girls had so much in common and were soon the best of friends. Laura took Emma to all the café’s and used bookstores around the village. Emma got right into her paintings and loved her classes. A month after arriving, Emma got a job at a little café just around the corner from their apartment.
“So who are these guys in the pictures?” Laura asked one day while in Emma’s room.
Emma picked up one of the framed pictures. “Those are my friends,” she told Laura.
Laura picked up another frame of the boys performing in Hamburg. “They any good?”
Emma smiled. “They are. They really put all their soul and energy into playing.”
“So introduce me.” Laura said, setting down the picture she was holding.
“Well,” Emma began. She pointed to a picture of George sitting on a couch, strumming his guitar, smiling at the camera. “That’s George. He’s real sweet and plays a mean lead guitar. We used to talk for hours about race cars and motorcycles!” She smiled at the memory. “And that’s Pete,” she went on. “He’s the drummer. He didn’t talk much but I could always get him going and we would spend hours talking about anything and everything.” Moving on to the next picture she almost started crying. “That’s John and the one in the dark sunglasses is Stuart. They are my two dearest and closest friends. They know more about me than I do and I miss them something fierce.” She took a deep breath. “So those are my friends back home.”
“What about this one?” Laura asked, picking up a frame that held a picture of The Beatles on stage at the Cavern. “The one with the big gorgeous eyes.”
Emma walked over and sat down on her bed. “That’s Paul,” she remarked, trying desperately to hide the pain in her voice.
Laura set down the picture and sat down beside Emma. “He broke you’re heart, didn’t he?”
Emma’s head shot up. How could she have guessed? “You could say that.”
“Guy’s are jerks and you are better without them!” Laura stated as she got up off the bed and walked out the door.
Emma wasn’t too sure about that.
Though letters and phone calls were few she kept in touch with her Liverpool friends. Stuart and her wrote and talked more. He kept her updated on The Beatles busy schedule. They were returning to Hamburg in April.
“John hasn’t been writing much lately,” Emma said to Stuart on one of their many phone calls.
“They’ve been busy.”
“I know. I’m still sad. I mean, I work at the café and go to school and paint and I still find the time to write a letter.”
Stuart laughed. “God I miss you, Emmie.”
Emma clutched the phone. “I miss you too, Stuart. I’ve been gone for three months but I still miss everything back home. New York is great though and you have to come visit me soon.”
“I’ll be there for your graduation in May.” Stuart promised.
“May 21st. Write it down on your calendar.”
“It’s all taken care of. May 21st 1962, Astrid and I will be in the front row.”
“And then I can fly back to Hamburg with you for your wedding.”
April 10th 1962, Emma’s 20th birthday, started off like any other day. She got up and showered, then ate a quick breakfast. Laura was already gone for the day. Just as she was pulling on her jacket the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Happy Birthday!”
“Stuart! Hey!”
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“I was just about to leave for class.”
“Then I’ll make this quick. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I can call later.”
“That would be great. I work till 12am though. Thanks Stuart. You seem to be the only one who remembered.”
“No, just the first one to call. They’ll be calling, don’t worry. Now get to class!”
Emma laughed. “Okay. Love ya.”
“Love ya.”
She hung up the phone and dashed out the door.
Stuart never called her and when she tried calling his house the next day there was no answer.
Emma staggered up the apartment steps after getting off from work at 1:30am three days later. Just as she got her key in the door the phone started ringing.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She cried, opening the door.
She dropped her jacket and bag on the floor and rushed to the phone, thinking it was Laura who was working the night shift at the café she worked at. Usually when the place got quite, she would phone Emma. “Hello?” She answered.
“Emma?!” A voice cried out to her. In the background she could hear music and laughter.
“Yes? Who is this?”
“Emma, it’s George!”
“George! Where are you?”
“I’m in Hamburg, at the club,” he shouted. “Emma, no one’s phoned you in the past three days?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been really busy with school and work that I have barely been home. Why, is something wrong?”
“I can’t believe John hasn’t called you,” she heard him mutter. “Emma, Stu died three days ago.”
Emma nearly dropped the phone.
“Emma?” George asked, after a minute of silence from Emma’s end. “Emma are you still there?”
“Yes,” she managed to whisper. “George, how?”
“It was a brain hemorrhage. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.”
Emma choked back a sob.
“John never phoned you?” George asked again.
“No. I don’t know. I’ve been working. So has my roommate. Oh my God.” This time she couldn’t hold back her tears.
“Oh God, Em. I’m so sorry. I wish one of us could be there for you. Jesus.”
“How’s John handling it?”
“John is handling it like John.”
“George, you’re on!” A voice called in the background.
“Shit,” George muttered. “Emma, I have to be on stage now. I’ll call you as soon as we’re done, right after I murder John,” the latter muttered under his breath.
“Okay, George. And thank you for calling.” Emma hung up the phone. She stood there for a few seconds and then collapsed to the floor in tears.
The phone woke her up later that morning. Glancing at the kitchen clock it read 5:15AM. Memories of her conversation with George came flooding back. She pulled herself from up off the floor and made her way over to the phone, ripping the cord from the wall. The ringing stopped.
Emma staggered down the hallway to her bedroom. She didn’t bother to turn on the lights, instead lighting a single candle. She crawled onto her bed and sat herself down on her window seat. Reaching into her sweater pocket she grabbed her pack of cigarettes and opened them, pulling out a ciggie and a lighter. Bringing the cigarette to her lips she flicked the lighter on and ignited the tip, inhaling then blowing out a puff of smoke. The sun was just rising above the towering buildings. Emma just sat staring out at nothing.
Laura came stumbling into the apartment at around eight thirty, exhausted from her night shift. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bed, but first she had to go to the bathroom.
She dropped her stuff on the kitchen table and didn’t notice that the phone chord had been ripped from the wall. She walked down the hall to the bathroom and shut the door. A few minutes later she came out and walked passed Emma’s room.
“Hey, Em,” she said, nonchalantly and continued waking, then stopped and went back to Emma’s doorway. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
Emma didn’t answer.
“Emmie, it’s almost nine. Don’t you have class?”
Still no answer.
Laura walked into the room. “Emma?” She was getting frightened. Emma just sat there, a burning cigarette in her hand, staring out the window. Laura reached the bed and climbed onto it so she could get to Emma.
Reaching over, Laura tried to take the cigarette from Emma’s hands, but Emma jerked her hand away and continued to stare out the window.
“Emma?” Laura touched her shoulder.
Emma flinched and turned, looking over her shoulder at Laura. Confusion crossed her face as if she couldn’t figure out who Laura was.
“Emma?” Laura tried again.
Emma closed her eyes and then opened them again. “Laura?”
Relief swept through Laura. “What happened, Emma? Why aren’t you in class. She watched as a tear slipped down Emma’s cheek.
“I have to wait for him,” Emma muttered, turning back to the window.
“Wait for who?”
“I won’t believe it until I see it,” Emma went on.
Laura up from the bed. She didn’t know what to do. Emma seemed to be in some sort of daze, somewhat confused. She left the room and made her way down to the hall into the kitchen. She had to phone somebody. That’s when she noticed that the phone cord had been ripped from the wall. She reached down and plugged it back in and almost immediately the phone began to ring. It scared Laura, causing her to jump. On the fifth ring she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Emma?” A voice on the other end called out. It sounded far away and was not American.
“No,” Laura informed him. “This is her roommate Laura. Can I help you?”
“This is Klaus Voorman, from Germany. How is she doing?”
Laura sighed in relief. “No! Maybe you can tell me what is wrong! Emma’s acting as if she’s in shock, not responding to me.”
“Oh no,” she heard him whisper. “A very dear friend of Emma’s, Stuart Sutcliffe, died unexpectedly on April 10th, four days ago.” Klaus explained. “We’ve been trying and trying to call her all day, but . . .”
“She ripped the phone cord out of the wall,” Laura clarified. “I just got home from work. I had no idea this had happened . . .”
“Do you think I could speak with her?” Klaus asked.
“She’s not responding to anything or anyone. I think she’s in shock. She said something about having to wait for him and ‘I won’t leave until I see him.’ Do you know what that means?”
“No, I’m sorry. Can you please tell her I called, and I will be calling again to see how she is.”
“I will. And I am sorry about your friend.”
Laura hung up the phone and leaned up against the wall, taking a deep breath. She didn’t know what to do. She had never had to deal with a something like this before. After a few minutes she walked back to Emma’s room and leaned on the door frame, watching her friend. Emma looked so small sitting on the window seat. So fragile. A tear slid down Laura’s cheek. She wanted to help her friend, but she didn’t know how.
The sun was setting and Emma still sat at her window.
“Emma,” Laura tried again for about the fifteenth time that day. “Please, Emmie, talk to me.” And to her surprise Emma turned around and looked at Laura.
“Talking isn’t going to bring him back, Laura,” Emma stated and turned back to the window.
Laura chanced it and entered Laura’s room. “You have to talk, Em,” she insisted, sitting down on the bed. “I’m worried about you.
Laura hear Emma choke back a sob. “It just can’t be true!” Emma cried. “He can’t be . . . be . . . dead!”
“Emmie . . .”
“One time,” Emma interrupted, turning to look at Laura, “ John and Stuart were over at my house and we got piss drunk and started talking about silly things and started making all these promises to each other,” she turned back to the window. “One of those promises was that if one of us died we would come back to Earth in some form to let the others know that there was something on the other side and that even though they had died, they would always be watching out for us.” She had to stop because her tears were too much. Taking a deep breath she continued. “I would come back as a white butterfly and John was going to be a white feather. And Stuart,” a small smiled crossed her lips. “He was coming back as a pigeon with a red head. He always had a fascination with red.”
Looking at Laura again, the smile disappeared. “I haven’t seen a pigeon with a red head yet. I haven’t seen anything.” Large sobs escaped her tiny being, sobs that one would think were not capable of coming from someone like Emma.
Laura rushed over and cradled the sobbing Emma in her arms. “It’s going to be okay, Emmie. I’m here for you. I’ll do anything to help.”
“Make him come back,” Emma moaned.
Emma spent most of her time in bed. She stopped going to classes and stopped going to work. Laura tried everything to get her out of bed but nothing seemed to work. Emma wouldn’t eat anything and Laura could hear her crying every night. After a month of this Laura got fed up.
“That’s it!” She cried, storming into Emma’s room one Friday afternoon. “I can’t go another minute knowing you are locked up in your room!” She yanked the covers off of Emma. “I’m getting you out of this house!”
Emma tried to keep the cover’s on her but Laura was too strong. “Laura . . .” Emma tried protesting.
“No!” Laura cried. “I am not going to listen to you! You are getting out of this apartment! I can’t watch you waste your life away like this anymore!”
Laura got Emma standing up and almost burst into tears. Emma was so thin and pale. Her eyes were red and blood shot, dark circles making them look hallow. She could see the outline of Emma’s bones on her arms. “Come on,” she pushed Emma towards the bathroom. Once inside Laura instructed her to take a shower.
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