Leather on a Sunday: A double irony, I noted to myself smiling. I couldn't understand how John could stand the summer heat wearing all his dark leather attire and his dark pipe pants. Nevertheless, nothing was going to ruin this day. The sun shined upon us as we walked together to bus stop 72, our final destination, where we were going to meet Paul.
As we approached the bus stop, our eyes spotted a teenager waiting patiently, coolly, and suavely. He was leaning against the bus stop sign with his hands in his side pant pockets. I could tell from his lips that he was whistling a tune, which kept him partially occupied.
He looked in our direction, and his big brown eyes brimmed with delight. Quickly standing up straight, he stopped whistling and was very formal and almost graceful in movement and gesture. Taking his left hand, he ran it through his gelled hair, neatly adjusting it. I noticed that he was left-handed when he played his guitar for the first time for us, and when he wrote his address on my hand. I just didn't think about it until now. I was left-handed too, so I thought that was pretty neat.
"You're a bit early! Thanks for meetin' me here!" Paul said, smiling as we greeted him.
"Hiya, Paul! What's shaking?" I asked him cheerfully.
"Nothin' much, just waitin' here for the bus. It'll be here any minute now. What's been 'appening with you two?"
"Just waitin' fer this day to arrive, mainly," John said with as much enthusiasm to rival Paul. "So, where are we headed to?"
"Oh, we're goin' across town to me mate's house," Paul stated slowly. "You know, the one I told you 'bout?"
"Yeah, we remember!" I answered.
"I told him we'd be there around nine-thirty. He 'as to go with his mum somewhere at around ten-thirty, so we haveta be there before he leaves. I don't know when he'll be back."
"All right, no problem, we'll get there," John reassured. "This mate of yers Paul … How does he play?"
"Well, he plays guitar just like a-ringin' a bell!" Paul quoted from a song. "He's great, trust me. He can play 'Raunchy' … perfectly! But his guitar isn't one of great quality, but it'll do."
"John, that's what we forgot! We didn't bring your guitar!" I said, lightly smacking my head, mildly punishing myself for forgetting something like that!
"What time's the bus s'posed to be 'ere?" John asked anxiously while quickly glancing at his watch.
"Um, 'bout nine-ten. It's three minutes past nine now. But you live on Menlove Ave., John! Yer not gonna sprint fast enough and get back on time!" Paul warned, crossing his arms. "I don't wanna be late, ya know."
"I'll take my chances," John winked to me. That was John: The daredevil in any situation, big or small. "If I don't make it, when does the next bus come?"
"Yeesh, another one doesn't come 'round 'til about one 'o clock!" Paul said exasperated.
"C'mon, John, don't go! It's s'alright! Let's just wait 'ere, and you can get it--"
"I'll make it, Pearl. I hope. So wish me luck!" John kissed me on the cheek and then gave Paul a dead serious look. "And if anythin', and I mean if anything happens to Pearl …"
"Don't worry, mate, I'll treat 'er like she's me own sister. But you don't have to go, you know!" Paul protested.
"John, you only have five minutes!" I also tried convincing my brother to stay. But he already smiled and waved goodbye. He was soon out of sight, leaving both Paul and I speechless.
Soon, Paul broke the transitory silence. "Is he always like that?" he asked, giving me a playfully inquisitive look and putting his hands on his hips.
"Yeah, that's my John," I answered sighing, but I wasn't angry or disappointed at all. I smiled. I understood how John loved his precious guitar and didn't want to be anywhere without it.
Paul sighed after me. "Well, John's gonna be late, Mrs. Harrison'll think I'm an indecent young lad for not showin' up on time, and George'll be wondering why the hell I didn't keep me promise to 'im."
"Who? What are you sayin', Paul?" I asked. He seemed worried, and I didn't want him to feel that way because it wasn't his fault that we were going to be late; it was John's idea to go running off like that in the first place.
"Oh, sorry, luv, just thinkin' about what George and his mum's reaction'll be when I come walkin' up to their house four hours late."
"George? Is that your mate's name?"
"Yeh, lit'le George Harrison. I don't know how John will take meeting him either. Don't tell him this, Paulina ..." Paul leaned his head near my ear.
"Don't tell him what?" I wondered aloud.
"George is only fourteen years old," he whispered as if it were a deep, dark secret. I looked at Paul, who was trying to hold back a smile. I laughed aloud.
"Paul, it's not a big deal. If George is good enough, then John'll accept him. He accepted you, didn't he?" I gladly reminded him of the truth.
"Yeh, yer right," Paul agreed. Before we could say anything, the bus pulled up to the stop. Paul motioned to the driver that we weren't getting on, so the driver went on his way.
"Well, there goes me reputation," Paul said. His eyes followed the bus we were supposed to be on.
"C'mon, Paul, don't be so 'ard on yourself. It wasn't your fault." At this, he nodded and knew he couldn't do anything, so he had to just go along with it.
Paul cleared his throat. "John won't be 'ere in a while, so, um, you wanna take a walk with me, just 'round 'ere?" he kindly and shyly asked. I guessed that Paul could picture John's stern face while he trusted him with me.
"Sure, I'll go with you. I trust you. You said you'd treat me like I was your own sister, y'know!" I said, cheering him up. Paul took the lead as we walked around the little shops surrounding us. I've been to all of them before, and noticing Paul's casual mood, I guessed that he was rather familiar with them too.
We strolled in and out of the stores, looking at everything we could. I had a wonderful time with Paul; he was very kind and gallant, just like the first day I met him. Smiling at each other often, we both knew in our hearts that we were having fun together.
Soon, it was almost time to wait at the bus stop for John. So I tugged Paul's hand a bit in the direction I wanted to go, and that was to the last shop we would visit.
"Paul, let's go in 'ere. I love this place," I pointed with my thumb to the door of a sweets shop. Paul gladly consented, I opened the door, and we both stepped inside.
The aroma of chocolate with a hint of caramel surrounded us. The perfume of all the different sweets made a very pleasant and warm atmosphere inside.
"Ooh, this reminds me," Paul said as he motioned to me to come over to him. He was standing in front of little bins filled with all sorts of sweets. "I should get George some jelly babies to kinda make up for bein' late. He's just daft about 'em!"
"Get some for him then, Paul!" I giggled. He then scooped the opalescent jelly babies up with a miniature shovel and placed them in a clear, plastic bag.
"I like jelly babies too," Paul began. "But not as much as the sweets I'm about to show you. C'mon." To indicate which confections he liked better, he walked over to a glass counter across the shop and again motioned me to follow him. Out of all the chocolates inside the glass counter, he pointed to the ones at the top right hand corner.
"These are the best, I tell ya. I get 'em all the time even though me dad doesn't want me eatin' them." He smiled after he finished that statement.
"The dark chocolate truffles, you mean? They're my favorite too!"
"Really? A little place the world is then, innit?" Paul said brightly.
"Yeh, it is, Paul. I'll buy some of truffles, and I'll buy something for John, too." I remembered I brought my wallet with a little bit of money that Aunt Mimi gave me. I rung the little bell on the counter so both Paul and I could be helped. The owner, a middle-aged woman, enthusiastically came over. Paul gave her the jelly babies, and I pointed out the chocolates I wanted. She put those in a separate bag for me. After I finished choosing, Paul paid for George's gift, and I paid for the chocolates. We thanked her, and left the shop.
"Here ya go, Paul. I bought them so we could share," I told him. We sat down on the bench next to the bus stop sign. I handed him one of the truffles he and I both loved.
"Thanks! I didn't know ya were gonna buy some fer me too! Do I need to pay you back? I can--"
"No, 'salright. It's my treat, and I have enough: Three for you, three for me. I bought John some caramel milk chocolate ones 'cos he likes those better. So go ahead and eat it," I urged him in an amiable manner.
"Thank you," Paul winked to me, popping the truffle in his mouth. He glanced around, trying to look for John I supposed, because I was doing the same thing.
After he swallowed the chocolate, he asked, "Do ya see 'im?" I shook my head.
"No, he's not comin' … Wait, there he is!" I stood up immediately and pointed to a sixteen-year-old teenager running toward us. I could tell it was John; I just knew. His guitar case strapped on his back literally flailed in the wind. Paul stood up right next to me, looking in the same direction. John finally reached the bus stop, out of breath, but smiling. I hugged him and told him he was just on time; it was 12:40.
"I w-wasn't gone that long, was I, luv?" John's voice showed a definite sign that he was tired from running.
"Yeh, four hours isn't very long, is it John?" I teased him. "Where've ya been?"
"Ah, yeah," John tried to catch his breath. "First off, if I cleaned me room-"
"But you never have."
"Now, before I was interrupted," John glanced at me and I portrayed my 'innocent' look. "Before I was interrupted," he continued. "If I cleaned me room, I would've found me guitar faster. So I was lookin' all over for it, right? Then Aunt Mimi comes up and *ahem,* comments lightly about me room. She made me clean it, but I found me guitar, thank God. Then I had to run back 'ere, and now I'm exhausted!"
"Here, John, I got these for you! Maybe they'll make you feel better?" I placed two caramel milk chocolates in John's hand. His face lighted up in that boyish manner of his that I loved to see. He thanked me for the goodies and then they disappeared in a split second.
"Didja know that Paul likes the same kinda truffle I do?" I said smiling as I placed my arm over Paul's shoulders, and he placed his arm on my shoulders. "You, on the other hand, John, just haveta be the odd one and like caramel."
"Ick, can't stand the stuff," Paul commented.
"All right, part the Red Sea 'ere," John joked, separating Paul and I. "Pearl, you know how I feel about dark chocolate … Ick, can't stand the stuff," my brother playfully mocked Paul.
"We can have an all-out debate about it on the bus, all right? It's here!" I announced. We quickly boarded the bus, took our seats in the lonely, isolated upper deck, and talked and talked about whatever came to our minds. A while later, I could feel the light tug of inertia pulling me a tad forward when the bus braked to a stop.
"This is it! Com 'ead!" Paul stressed his Liverpudlian accent as we descended from the bus.
"Okay, where to next, sir?" I asked our living compass.
"Follow me! I know where he lives by 'eart," The young McCartney ambled on as John and I did as he told us: Followed him. Paul gave us a briefing about how he went to school with George, how he first met him, and little details that could help shape John's and my image of the George Harrison we were going to meet.
Paul knocked on the door when we made it to the right house. A young lad with clothes that would make any Teddy jealous opened the door.
"Hi, Paul! A lit'le late now, aren't we?" He raised a thick eyebrow skeptically, but it was friendly.
"Sorry, George, a little delay …" Paul tried to explain.
"'Salright," George replied. He had a very strong Scouse accent, much more than perhaps John's and Paul's combined. He was very thin and he looked almost fragile. And why did John always have to meet young lads with eyes that could stun the world? Not that John's eyes didn't, but Paul and now George's were close rivals. However, George's eyes were darker, deeper, and more mysterious like a special shadow hidden among other ordinary shadows.
"And what's that you've got there? Somethin' fer me, I bet," George nudged Paul with his elbow.
"Yeh, this is to make up fer bein' late! Of course I didn't get 'em out of the sake of just givin' them to you!" Paul replied smiling, handing the bag of jelly babies to George, who ignored the comment and happily received the bag and placed it in his pocket.
"George," Paul began as he cleared his throat. "George, this is John Lennon, one of the best guitar players I've ever met. And John, this is George Harrison, me mate from school, the one I told you about."
"Okay, now how old is this one?" John glanced at Paul, giving him a look.
"Ah, that's what I was getting' at …" Paul said slowly.
"Me birthday is February 25, 1943, and it's July now, right? So I'm 'bout fourteen and a 'alf. Y'have a problem with that?" asked a now indignant George who was standing up for himself. He didn't need Paul for this; George could do his own talking.
"Just a kid," John sighed to himself. "But Paulie 'ere says yer pretty good. He'd better be right 'bout this," he finished, giving Paul another look.
Paul smiled confidently, then quickly added, "Oh, sheesh, I don't wanna forget. George, this is Paulina Pearl, John's younger sister."
"Hiya, George! Please call me Paulina. Don't worry, I'm only fourteen too. My birthday is April ninth," I told him, hoping it would make him feel better.
"Nice to meet you, Paulina. Thanks for the reassurance," he gladly answered since it got his mind off of John's initial reaction. "Where we goin' then? Me mum's gonna 'ave company, so I don't wanna stick around, ya know."
"Well, maybe we could all take a ride back to our house. That way you both can meet our Auntie," I squeezed John's hand simultaneously as I gave my suggestion.
"Sounds gear t'me. Let's catch a bus then!" After Paul's statement, the four of us walked out of the house, George locked his door, and we waited at the bus stop. A few minutes later, when it was near four-thirty, our ride finally arrived and we took our seats at the once again isolated, abandoned upper deck.
"Here's yer chance to show yer stuff, George," Paul egged. "Ya wanna impress the nearly seventeen year old, ya gotta play 'Raunchy' like you always do. Go on, quit bein' so bloody quiet and shy."
"I'm not shy! And I'm not always quiet either, Paul," George retorted back as quick as lightning, but we knew he wasn't being serious. "Hand me a guitar then, please."
"Don't scratch, break, maim, or hurt me guitar, all right? Be careful with it. Don't breathe on it too hard either," John warned, cautiously handing his beloved guitar to George.
"Jeez, what's next? I start worshippin' it now?" George teased as he received it. He exhaled a long breath, winked to Paul, then played his 'famous' song.
Whew! I thought as the music entered my ears. He's good! Is this friendly, new rival here to stay? I looked over to John, whom I could tell was also impressed. Paul beamed throughout the entire performance because he knew he was right about George the whole time.
"Well, what d'ya think?" Paul asked, hinting at John with his eyes.
"I thought he was marvelous, spectacular ... That is, if you want my opinion," I answered, lowering my head a bit, but high enough so my eyes could catch George's glance. He was very grateful for my remark.
"Thank you, Paulina! I thought it was splendid too!" Paul said, answering his own question, his voice full of happiness and near victory. The only thing he needed now was John's approval.
"Um, what 'bout you John? Any opinions?" Paul gulped when he spoke those laconic words.
George remained in a silence that choked him. John sighed, exasperated.
"Um, it was, well, I've got some bad news fer you, George," John said sadly. George's hopes came crashing down, and it was very obvious in his now forlorn face.
"The bad news is … Yer gonna haveta put up with us fer the rest of yer life!" John mussed up George's brown hair. George, who now regained back all his hopes, looked up, his grin meeting John's. John continued, "I need you in the band, mate. Yer definitely in, and here to stay! Congrats, young lad, hang on fer the ride!"
George was in and staying for good. We had a wonderful mini-celebration, and although we were physically on the bus, mentally we were in the clouds. The new band member passed around his bag of jelly babies. John and I got to know George better, and he got to know us. Taking less than a minute for myself during the festivities, I observed the three of them, the core of the band, while they laughed, giggled, and joked around.
They seemed perfect for each other, made for each other, and all connected to one another with a connection closer than that of blood. They were born not as blood brothers, but as rock and roll brothers. Nothing could separate them now.
On to Chapter 5
Back tothe Intro.
