Lonely People

Goodbye, Amelia

Autumn was upon us. Leaves were changing colors, the wind was blowing, and the trees were beginning to shed. The world was dyed hues of orange, red, and brown in celebration of a beautiful time of year. Autumn used to be my favorite time of year, until the autumn of 1961. It marked the last show I played as a Beatle.

    I knew it was coming. I talked to Brian and Molly about it. Brian agreed with me, but Molly did her best to change my mind. She didn't want me to quit something I loved because of sexism. What she didn't understand is that I wasn't quitting because of the sexism, I was quitting because of the lads.

    They had come so far already, from Liverpool to Hamburg and back to Liverpool again. They've already done so much, they can't stop now. They're going to the top, I can feel it, as can they. John, Paul, and George are going to the toppermost of the poppermost, but they couldn't do it with me. This was their dream, their lives, and I wasn't about to make them sacrifice everything they've worked for just so I could play drums.

    Even though I've already come to that conclusion, I procrastinated for as long as possible. It was two months after my talk with Brian when I finally bit the bullet. I wasn't going to at first, I was planning to keep procrastinating for as long as I could, but fate had different plans.

    One of the larger churches in Liverpool held an annual Autumn Carnival. It wasn't large, the only rides were a pony ride and some swings. People had booths where they sold various forms of art, food, jewelry, etc. There was a wooden stage built against the church for the band to play. That band was none other than The Liverpool Loved Beatles.

    I had to lug the drum set on to the stage. John gave me a hand while Paul and George got dressed inside the church. When we had every piece on the stage, John went back to get dressed, leaving me alone to set up the drums. I crouched next to the set, which I had borrowed from The Cavern, and began to work the legs into position. They were constantly coming off due to the age of the drums. I was sure that, one day, I would hit the drum and the stick would go right through. 

    "What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" a male voice asked.

    I glanced over my drums to see three boys standing at the front of the stage. They seemed to be about my age. Each dressed in the classic teddy boy style, just like John, Paul, and George.

    "What does it look like I'm doing?" I replied, "I'm setting up the drums."

    The boy grinned, "Ah, you're the roadie, aren't ya?"

    "No, I'm the drummer."

    The three boys looked at each other before bursting out in laughter. I gave them my best death glare and tried to pretend I wasn't phased by their laughter. It only served to chip away another piece of my shrinking confidence.

    "Girls don't play drums," the first boy laughed, "Sing, maybe, but not in a band like this. Quit playing around."

    I glared at him, "I'm not playing around."

    "You're not the drummer."

    "How about I do a demonstration on your skull?"

    The boy sneered, "How dare you talk to me like that."

    "I'm just giving you the same respect you gave me," I spat, "Now, bugger off before I show you just how well I play the drums."

    They glared at me for a few more seconds before leaving. They mumbled under their breath, probably something against me, but I didn't care. I went back to fixing the drums. A nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach told me those boys would be trouble.