I loved Paul McCartney, always had since I was a kid.
The Beatles were definitely my favourite band and I lost count of how much money I spent following them during their tours in America.
There was just something about them. Everyone had a favourite and Paul was mine. Those big dreamy eyes and that voice….Oh, that voice.
When he sang Yesterday, it felt as if he were singing it for me, it summed up the way that I felt after my boyfriend Bobby left me for the pretty girl down the block from where I lived.
Bobby had told me that there was something that just wasn’t right with me. I think he was jealous of how I felt for Paul and, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that Paul and I had so much in common.
Bobby dumping me was the catalyst for me taking all of the money that Grandpa Joe had left me in his will and spending it on following The Beatles around the country. I spent thousands of dollars, spent hundreds of hours on trains and planes, making sure that I was the first one to greet them whenever they arrived in a new city.
Paul recognised me after a while, I know he did. Our gazes would meet for the briefest of moments and he’d smile, a smile that told me how much he liked me back.
Bobby never looked at me that way. When Paul looked at me it was with love and affection and I swear that he winked at me once. I know he was giving me the signal that he felt the same way.
It was fate, we were meant to be together. The press always speculated on whether he had a girlfriend and who she might be, but I knew he acted coy because the reality was that he and I were in love.
Whenever he spoke of the long songs he wrote, I knew that he wrote them for me. He missed me when the band had to fly back to the UK. I know he did.
Our time apart only made my love for him grow stronger. Not even an ocean could keep us apart – not in our hearts anyway. I counted down the days until the band would return to the States and then….and then we would be able to reveal to the world that we were in love.
And then, for the first time, he spoke to me as he entered the hotel with John following closely behind.
“Hello, love,” he smiled, looking straight at me.
“You got my letter, didn’t you?” I asked as I gazed adoringly at him.
He frowned. “Probably. But to be honest, I threw it away.”
He shrugged his shoulders, walking on. I found myself filled with rage. How dare he pass me by as if I meant nothing to him?
I pulled the pistol from my pocket….
Written in response to Thain in Vain’s Week 35 prompt: “Well, to be honest, I threw it away.”