I'm A Loser

Chapter 2.

I've known George Harrison since I was fifteen. He was a little twelve year old when I moved in next door. Mom always wanted to live in England. She wanted to feel grand and leave everyone and everything behind. She met dad on a train in New York. Sixteen, free spirited and looking for work, she found herself in the arms of a young soldier.

The two fell in love and quickly moved onto having me. I was the product of their young carelessness. She returned to her home in California and had me alone while dad returned to England for a year. I was told they met again on my first birthday. Together they stayed in a small house that was barely enough room for us three. It was the home I grew to know. Dad would leave often for studies in London. He got his degree and came back to settle down with mom. The two lived freely, spending their time together, raising me and making sure I grew up in a happy home. When I was fifteen, dad made the announcement he got a job offer at a University to be a professor. Mom was estatic and was soon packing our things off to Liverpool. I always wondered why we had to live in a pretty low neighborhood rather than some fancy apartment in London. When I asked mom, she just reminded me that hard times were our only way of living. It was just the thought of living in another country that really excited her. She loved travel. To meet people and light up a room. I always loved that about her. Dad was always the most stern. Always with a furrowed brow, hands in pockets and being forward. He never liked to stray from a question or answer. If something was the way he wanted it, he made it known. Mom told me he wasn't always like that. He loved to dance and have a laugh now and then.
I was wearing a ribboned headband in my hair. Cardigan sweater and white skirt. Summer in Liverpool was much different than summer on Cali. I expected beaches and warm weather. Tans and palm trees. Instead I got clouds and rainy weather. Traded a cold Cola for warm tea. I noticed him watching from his window. Big ears, funny haircut. He was curious. I had given a small wave and he scurried off like a frightened squirrel.

Our first meeting was when mom and missus Harrison met and soon we were offered over for dinner. Meeting George was a bit awkward at first. He was rediculously shy. I wasn't even into Rock N Roll until I met his brother Peter. We got along, sitting in the living room and talking the night away. Once in awhile I'd notice George peek from the stairs. He'd pretend to be getting a glass of water just to pass the room and catch a glimpse of me. When he reached is tenth glass in less than an hour, I knew he was interested.

I spent my sleepless night wanting to meet little George. But Peter laughed and told me George barely spoke at all. So for the longest time I thought he must have had a stuttering problem of some sort.

The Harrison's became good friends with my parents and even went out for dinners now and then. It was one of these times in early September in fifty-six, I was asked to babysit George. He stayed up in his room most of the time. Peter kept me company and soon we were watching Ed Sullivan. Elvis's first appearance on the show.

It was then I fell in love. Watching him sing Love Me Tender. Rocking out to Hound Dog and looking incredibly attractive with his greased hair and bad boy look. I was practically on my knees in front of the television wanting more. Throwing myself at him like the many girls on the screen. Peter laughed and teased me as being missus Presely.

George came down to see what the fuss was about and soon, he became intrigued as well. We spoke for the first time that night. Exchanging names. I could sense his jealousy when Peter asked if I wanted to go record shopping the next day. What did George do? To Pete's surprise, he joined in. Wanting to learn more and discover something new with me. So the next day I bid mom and dad goodbye and was off with the two Harrison boys, buying and listening to records in George's living room. Mom was excited I made friends. Dad well, he was happy. I think he just wished my only friends weren't just boys.