Lonely People

The Royal Variety

Molly decided not to bring up my drunken confession, though I knew she hadn't let it go. She began to look at me differently. Not a bad differently, in fact, I thought it was better. As if my confession had brought us closer. She smiled every time she looked at me and her eyes sparkled brighter than ever. I both loved it and hated it. Something about the change was unsettling to me.

Neither of us confronted it. We went about our lives as if nothing had happened because nothing truly did. I had just told her something that was nothing, in the long run, it just meant something to me all those years ago. All it was was the hormonal imbalance of a confused teenager.

One day, I was fast asleep in a train cabin. The lads were playing at The Royal Variety Show, a prestigious event that only held the best bands. It was the greatest leap they had yet, and it was all thanks to Brian Epstein.

Paul had told me each member of the band was allowed a plus one. Ringo was bringing his girlfriend, John was bringing his wife, George was bringing his mother, and Paul was bringing me. When he invited me, I didn't hesitate to accept. I had always wanted to go to The Royal Variety Show, or better, play it. Watching my brother and my best friends play on a show I had grown up watching would be exciting.

When I had told Ellen, she became excited as well. She told me that it would be great exposure for the group for the drummer to attend one of the most publicized events as a band member's plus one. She insisted I wear my Revolution outfit, though I argued heavily. This was not about Revolution, it was about The Beatles. I wasn't going to publicize my band, I was going to support my brother and my best friends. In the end, Ellen let me wear what I wanted so long as I kept my face free.

I always knew I would never be able to fully sever my connection to The Beatles. Revolution and The Beatles would always be connected, if not for us showing up at each other's shows, then because Paul and I were siblings. Later in life, we would be known as 'Music's Most Famous Siblings' with good reason too. As time wore on, I began to realize, being tied to The Beatles wasn't so bad after all.

"Macca, wake up," John's voice pierced my consciousness.

"Which one's Macca?" Ringo asked, "There's two of em."

John chuckled, "Right on the nose, Ringo."

I could almost hear John's cheeky grin and Ringo's eye roll. 

"He's talking to Paul," George answered.

"Melly's already got a nickname."

My senses began to come back to me. I recognized a warm lump beneath my head, and it was moving up and down. It occurred to me that I was sleeping on someone. I heard the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter and realized I was never going to hear the end of this.

"Macca, bloody hell, wake your arse up!" John shouted.

The lump beneath me jumped, causing me to fall to the ground. I was completely awoken by my head connecting with the ground beneath me. Everything came into focus as I lifted my head to glare at my friend, "Fucking hell, John!"

"Morning sunshines," John grinned, "Have a nice nap?"

Paul rubbed his eyes, "I did until you came around, wanker."

"Just trying to wake you up, Macca. We made it to London."

I stood to look out the window. The brilliant halls of King Cross Station looked back at me, along with crowds of people. Near the exit of the train, a group of teenagers was packed close together behind a fence. They had signs that said things like 'I love Paul' 'I love John' I love George' and 'I love Ringo'. Some even had pictures of the lad's faces. Every teen had one thing in common; they all looked to be on the verge of tears.