Lonely People

Blackout Boys

Christmas had come and gone quicker than the blink of an eye. Time passes quicker, I've learned, when you have a show every other night. It gives you something to look forward to, and that makes the days fly by quicker.

The Quarrymen had been playing at The Cavern Club for some time now. We were almost denied, as nobody under the age of eighteen is allowed in. Paul was going to be eighteen soon, but George and I still had a couple years. Luckily, John was able to talk them into it.  

The house was empty except for Paul and I. Michael had gone over to a friends house for the night, and Dad had decided to celebrate at a bar with his friends. The house was ours. As any adult can tell you, leaving two teenagers in an empty house for an entire night is never a good idea. Especially when those teenagers were as exuberant as The McCartney Siblings. 

I sat at the piano, playing with the keys. Paul was on the couch nearby, strumming his guitar and writing down what he thought of. Both of us occasionally commented on the work of the other.

"What about g?" I asked, hitting the key.

Paul wrinkled his nose, "Definitely not, it's too low."

"A then."

I hit that key. Paul smiled, "That sounds better."

I wrote that down. Paul jerked his hand down, hitting every single chord. The music echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls and into my cranium. I winced slightly.

"It's nearly ten thirty," Paul sighed, "When will it be time?"

I turned to look at him, "Are you bored?"

He simply glared at me. I smirked, "Go get some cards, we'll play a game."

Paul abandoned his guitar on the couch. I closed the piano gently, making sure not to harm the keys. It was an old piano, older even than Dad. Our Grandmum on our Dad's side had given it to us when she passed away several years ago. From the moment we got it, it has been my piano. Paul and Michael played it sometimes, even Dad tapped the keys on a rare occasion, but I used it the most. Those piano keys are covered in my fingertips from when I was old enough to reach the keys to now. 

Paul was anxiously awaiting the arrival of our friends. Celebrating News Years alone was no fun, so we had the idea of inviting them over. It was still a bit before they arrived.

I sat across from Paul at the coffee table. He shuffled while I watched to make sure he didn't cheat. As he dealt, he counted the cards out loud.

"Nine?" Paul asked.

I shook my head, "Go fish."

He grumbled. We went on like this for ten minutes before he dropped his cards in exasperation, "I can't live like this!"

"Christ, Paul, calm down," I calmly set my cards down, "It's just a half hour, it's not that bad."

Paul fell backward, "Boring! It's all boring!"

I rolled my eyes. Standing, I straightened my pants and gazed down at my brother, "If you want to be a sissy about it, then go ahead."

"I am not a sissy."

"You sure are acting like one."

Paul jumped up. Just a month ago, I was barely an inch shorter than him. Given a week or two, I might have actually been the same height as him, but Paul went through a growth spurt. He rocketed to five inches taller than me overnight. In the typical annoying older brother fashion, he made sure to never let me forget it. 

"Well, what do you suggest?" Paul asked.

I frowned, "I'm not your nanny."

He groaned. I watched him spin around and go to the kitchen. The clanking of metal against glass told me he was making something. I could smell tea moments later.