Chapter 3: Missing George

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Chapter 3: Missing George

I went home that night after crying into Alex's arm on his couch. After a few hours Alex walked me back to my apartment and made sure I was in my bed and fast asleep before closing the door and locking it with the spare key I'd given him.

My alarm blared at around six and I slapped it and rose up out of my bed. My whole head throbbed and my nose and eyes were red and puffy.

I remembered now. The screaming. The panic. The crying. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before pushing myself up and making my way to my bathroom.

I looked at my reflection in the small mirror. I looked terrible, truly terrible. My red hair was matted to my head and my eyes had large dark bags underneath them.

I felt sick to my stomach. But I wasn't tired at least. I turned on my shower and thought a while until I got out and dressed in my uniform for work.

I tied my hair back, grabbed an orange and went out the door to Ziggy's Diner. The only reason I really took the job here was because Alex's aunt Jenna owned it and it was 50s-60s diner with tons of Beatles merch.

Jenna was possibly one of the biggest blessing I've ever received. She married Ben's brother Zach. She was a blonde Brit. She owned the best diner in New York, and she gave me a job that I adored.

The diner was busy and bustling when I arrived. As per usual. My co-worker Samantha was running around taking orders and bringing out food.

She glared at me and walked over. "Where the hell were you last night?!"

I shrugged. "I was at home. I was just...tired."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Whatever. Hurry up and get out here. We don't need you slacking again."

"Yes mother."

She didn't look back to me. But I know she heard me. She stopped, I could practically feel the daggers.

I rolled my eyes and placed my leather bag behind the counter.

I picked up my small notepad and went to place an ordinary looking couple in a booth. They say right under the portrait of the Beatles.

My eyes grazed over George's face. My heart ached again. I shook off the thought and tried my best to look happy for this couple.

"Hey guys, I'm Darcy." I said placing menus on their table. "I'll be your waitress today. Can I start you guys off with drinks?"

I took their order of drinks. A tea with lemon for the busty blonde with gray eyes and a coke for the man with a graying mustache.

When I got into the kitchen, Jenna was there. She hovered over me with a wary look.

"What's wrong?" I asked with a little too much attitude.

Jenna shook her head. "I should be asking you the same love."

I slouched. "Just a rough night."

Jenna frowned. "Well sweetheart, if you want to talk about it I'm here for you."

I nodded and went back to getting the people their drinks. Throughout the day, Samantha gave me repetitive death glares.

If only she knew. What I had witnessed last night. The life had just left his eyes. The way the woman's scream filled the ICU room.

On my break I went into the break room, took a cigarette out of Sam's bag, lit it and went out the back door to stand near the garbage.

I was really risking it by taking this from her. I knew if she found out she'd strangle me. I don't know what I ever did to that girl. She just hated me.

I sat down on the steps and sucked in the cancer in a roll of nicotine.

George had cancer. That's what killed him. God why'd I keep thinking these things. I needed to stop. I knew that George was dead. He'd been dead for 12 years or so now. But I hadn't seen him die, I reminded myself.

I stomped out the butt of the cig and buried my face in my hands.

A few minutes later my phone rang. It was Mom. Probably calling for her weekly "I'm alive. Glad to hear your voice too." message from me.

I answered it slowly and tried to gain composure while doing so.

"Hi Mom."

I could practically see my mother's smile on the other end. "Hi sweetie! I got the pictures of your room in my email! I just cannot believe you coated your room in those atrocious posters!"

I scoffed. I loved her but sometimes she pissed me off. Atrocious? My room was amazing. Over a thousand Beatles and other bands posters covered it.

Mom went on. "But anyways, me and Charlie are doing great! How are you sweetie?"

Charlie. My stepdad. He was a good guy. More of a dad to me than my real dad was. Living it up on the strip in Vegas with his new found plastic trophy wife, Ashley.

Not that I hated her or anything. She was nice and all but she took up all of my dad's time.

I can still hear her voice. "Darce, why don't we go clothes shopping?"

I agreed as a happy fifteen year old at the time. She took me to some weird boutique and clothed me in a really tight dress and heels.

"Sweetie? You there?"

I snapped out of my memory and back into the real world. "Oh yeah, sorry Mom. Hey, can I call you back, I'm not...feeling well."

I hung up before mom had a chance to call me back. I locked the screensaver of George Harrison and turned off my phone and went back inside the diner.

Three hours later I grabbed my bag, punched out and made my way for home. It was around five and rush hour was always crazy here.

I perused the streets on the way home and looked into the windows of my favorite shops.

When I got home I immediately shut and locked the door and got into some old shorts and an oversized Abbey Road tee.

I went into my room and grabbed my baby blue bass. I sat on my bed and quietly plucked along to 'Here Comes The Sun".

"Here comes the sun, doo do do do. Here comes the sun, and I say."

I stopped playing. And placed my bass back on its stand. I hadn't had much motive to play lately. It worried Alex, but maybe I was just...losing interest in bass playing.

I remembered when I got my first bass guitar back when I was nine. So almost ten years ago. I played that thing so much, that eventually my fingers bled and callous' grew over.

In junior high I finally played in a pop band with three boys. They tended to push me around when it came to practice. Plus, our guitarist, Max, sucked. Needless to say I dropped out in tenth grade.

I snapped out of my daydream to hear my stomach growl.

I went into the kitchen and fixed myself some mac n cheese.

My phone chirped. I looked at it. A text message from Alex.

"Meet me at the shop tomorrow?"

I replied with "Okay." and turned my phone off for the night. I turned off all the lights in my apartment flipped on my stereo and slipped myself under the covers.

Before closing my eyes I looked up at the ceiling and whispered "Goodnight George."

And even though it's improbable, I felt like, wherever he was, he was saying goodnight to me too.

~~Well, I'm pretty sure a spoon has more creativity than I do. But whatever for this sucky chapter. Tell me what you think.~~

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