Wildfire ~ George Harrison

Chapter 24: No time for goodbyes

There were five sightings of George in the last three weeks of the year. Since the Beatles' Christmas show was in London, they came back home after every performance.

The day after my party was the first time I saw George and the circumstances made it uncomfortable straight away. I must've fallen asleep on the sofa that night, because that's where I woke up. George must've left when I did, because he wasn't there. He had left in the night, sneaking out as if we had some weird one night stand.

When I walked up the stairs after having run to the shops, I walked straight into him and Ringo. They were coming down the stairs and a look at my watch told me that it was time for their concert.

As soon as I spotted him, we locked eyes and he stopped walking, forcing me to halt my movements as well. I tried my hardest to pull my eyes away, but for a moment that seemed impossible.

In that one moment, time seemed to take a pause from ticking away and all the what-ifs travelled through me. What if we hadn't had that conversation last week? What if we were still in limbo between friends and maybe-more?

Would I be walking down the stairs with them, ready to stand backstage for their Christmas show? Would I have been out today, or would I've been with George? Would he have played the guitar, showing me the latest song he'd been working on? Maybe he would've taught me how to play, like he had told me once.

And then the moment was gone and I was able to look down. I took a quick breath and, without saying anything, barged passed them. What had I been thinking to ask him to ignore the end of our friendship last night? It was very clear that it had made things even worse.

Three days later, I saw him again, this time just a glimmer. Someone, maybe George, I didn't know, had messed up sorting the post and a letter addressed to Mrs Goldberg had found its way into my stack. I had only noticed it when I'd gone through the post in the flat, so I had to go downstairs again.

Mrs Goldberg was a nice-enough lady, but she was the kind that didn't stop talking to you, ever. Like ever, ever. I was standing in front of her door and trying to get away without hearing how every one of her eight grandchildren were doing. It wasn't successful.

It was when I looked over my shoulder in search of an escape. He was walking past and out of the door before I could fully recognise the shape as his. Though I was thankful this time there wasn't any uncomfortable eye contact, his presence had just as much effect on me. The goosebumps had found their way onto my skin and the hairs in the nape of my neck rose. I had tingles all over and it was as if my body wanted to run after him.

Mrs Goldberg had clearly recognised him as well. 'What a nice boy that is, isn't he? He always brings around the post, rather than keeping it in my mail slot,' she mused. 'Always polite as well. I just feel so bad for all his little friends waiting outside for him. Especially now that it's so cold out. He'd do well to ask them inside. I think he's being awfully rude not to invite them in.'

It took me a lot to not laugh out loud. Yes, poor George and his "friends". If he wanted to ruin his life forever he'd do good to invite them in. No, thank you, I did not need them in our building.

But there was something else too. He had walked past me, had probably seen and recognised me and he had chosen to not do anything. He had decided not to say anything and instead to ignore me. I knew it was what I had asked of him, but it still stung.

The third time I saw him was the morning after my conversation with Mrs Goldberg. It was early in the morning and I had just walked through the front door to go to work.

He was sitting there, on the stairs, clearly waiting for something or someone. Or me? When he heard me open the front door, he shot up and turned around to look at me. 'Charlotte,' he said.