Personal Preference (George Harrison)

Chapter Seventeen: Turn! Turn! Turn!

Quick Author's Note: A little bit of everything goes on in this chapter, and it's quite fast paced and all over the place. But, with the next chapter(s) this book will slow down considerably.

A new leaf had turned for me, it truly felt that way anyway. After being discharged from the hospital, I had made my decisions about my future, whether or not they involved Stella or not. I had decided that I would further my music career with Brian Epstein as my manager, Derek Taylor as my press secretary, and George Martin as my producer. I would also leave my roots in the Greenwich Village and New York City and relocate to London, England, where I could dive straight into my work. For days, I had tried to reach Stella on the phone but she hadn't answered since my call from the hospital, so I did what I thought best and showed up at her apartment at the Chelsea. When I had knocked and she had seen it was me I was sure she was going to slam the door in my face, but she thankfully allowed me into the house and somehow I managed to get her to agree to the contract with Brian Epstein. She had told me that I was lucky, considering the fact that she wouldn't have done it if Don Everly had not of just called off their ages-long affair and her new affair involved Beatles' Bassist, Paul McCartney.

Tonight's goal, however, was to successfully make it through a farewell dinner with my family and say goodbye to everyone in the process. Especially considering the fact that I really had no intentions of returning to the states after leaving. I felt as if this opportunity was my escape, and there was no way that I would come back to all the trials and tribulations I faced here.

I watched my mother put on a fake smile as she laid the dishes she had spent hours preparing onto the dining room table. Dad, Stella, Burke, Janet (Burke's pregnant wife), and me; all sat at the table, waiting. When my mother finally took her seat across from my father at the head of the table, Stella took the plunge and spoke first. "I know this may come as a sort of surprise," She began. "But, Jo and I have received an offer to record with George Martin, the Beatles' producer and continue as their opening act on their tour of the United Kingdom, and we've decided to accept." She continued, composed and calm as a cucumber.

My father smiled as he and my mother exchanged a look. Burke and Janet were silent as my mother really began to react. "And, when did you decide that it would be okay to spring this news upon us?" She asks, wiping her mouth with the napkin she had only moments before placed over her lap. I took this moment to take a large gulp of the white wine that sat in front of me and to reply to her.

"Mother, we've discussed the possibilities of continuing our careers elsewhere before, each time you tend to ignore our wants and necessities and continue to disregard our feelings. Stella and I conversed about this matter for multiple hours and wracked over our options to make sure what we were doing was right, and nothing can stop us from leaving for London in the morning, not even you." I say, sternly. I glance in my father's direction and as my eyes sweep across the guests at the dinner table, my eyes land on Burke. He gives me a sort of sour grimace and looks like he's about to jump across the table or berate me one. It seemed like the latter when he finally spoke up, and not in mine and Stella's defense.

"I'm sorry, Johanna, and not to kill the mood and ignore the opportunities ahead of you and Stell, but couldn't you show Mom a bit more of the respect that's due."

Stella giggles and mutters something indistinguishable under her breath, but that doesn't stop me from my tirade against Burke. "I realize that you love our mother, I do too, but there comes a time when you must let the ones you love go, you'll have a child soon and someday you may be in the same situation our mother is right now. Yes, Stella and I are old enough to make our own decisions and consequently, we could've left without telling Mom, but we chose not to, not because we wanted to hurt her but because we wanted her to be able to feel the same joy that we do right now," I rant. "So, please cut us some slack, and if you and our mother cannot be happy for us then we'll take our leave and leave you to your dinner party," I continue, but only to finish.