Petty Little Beatles

Act IV: Scene i

He had not a significant amount of an idea as to what he would return to. Of course, he did know he would see the boys and Kay, but he felt that doubt again. That pressuring, nagging, thoughtless doubt. He tried to drown it out with a burst of Elvis he found on the radio, but not even music could distract him. He had declined Kay's offer of driving up to the airport to pick him up; he needed time to think, alone.

Sometimes, being alone was good.

He drove through the unusual sheet of Los Angeles rain. It was a thin coat, but it was more rain than he had seen recently. It was small but present, like that doubt.

He had no explanation for either.

The drive was short, though it had been longer before; his mind was full, but he was uncertain if it had been this full before. His thoughts were present, wondering and worrying.

She was fine. He believed that, and he would see it. He felt another stab of some emotion. No, he could not have an unneeded feeling of guilt.

He had done nothing, as far as he was aware. He had these unexplained emotions. And that doubt. He damned it.

He was sick of the doubt that was running through him, driving him crazy. He had been sick of it since it had first appeared in the record store, where he and Kay had let the boys shop and buy that Rolling Stones album Kay had been sick of. He almost laughed.

Why had things been so simple? Why had they drifted into some vague, difficult thing he could not comprehend?

Why did he feel that it was his fault?

He had to stay calm; maybe he should have accepted Kay's ride. He was fine, just homesick.

At the light, he closed his eyes briefly, opened them to light a cigarette, and he drove on when the light turned green. He was almost home. He could get there and see the kids, see Kay, play them a tune or two, watch that old Blue Hawaii film on the television.

Something had changed. He thought back to that hopeless, naive hope. He needed something to hold on to (his hands gripped the steering wheel). Kay was on his mind. He felt a surge of emotion. He loved her, and the kids. It was good to be back. He could see the streetlights and the closely lying houses. He was back.

He turned into the driveway, smiling. He had stubbed out the cigarette long ago, but he still had a lot more to go through. He could hear the front door slam open as he saw a blur of brown hair run up to the car. Kay.

His smile widened and he opened the driver's door. Her arms embraced his waist, and he found himself pulling her closer. She laughed.

"Nice to see you again," Tom joked.

"You, too," Kay said.

He ran his fingers through her hair, breathing in her perfume. "I've missed you."

She lifted her head slightly from his shoulder. It was too dark to see her face. "You, too," she whispered.

Tom smiled and kissed her. He felt her lower her head back to his shoulder. His arms rested around her, his fingertips barely touching her hair.

They sat like that for sometime until Kay said, "I think the boys are becoming impatient."

He nodded and kissed her again before he followed her into the house. Inside, the boys were indeed in an impatient manner.

"Dad!"

"How was Michigan?"

"And Ohio?"

"And Idaho?"

Tom chuckled. "Son! Good, good, and I didn't go there." He laughed.

Kay's hand squeezed his. "Didn't you boys miss your father?"

"Yes," Paul, John, Ringo, and George said at once.

"I missed you, too, boys." He sat on the couch, turned on the television, as the boys sat on either side of him. He smiled. "Elvis' G.I. Blues. Well, how about it?"

Paul and John nodded. "Yeah, please."

Tom selected the channel. "How has school been?"

John chuckled. "You're silly, Dad. It's been summer for two months!"

"Oh, yeah." Tom pretended to slap his forehead with a hand. He smiled but could not resist a yawn. "Aw, shucks, boys, I may need to call it an early night."

Beside him, he could hear Kay laugh. "It's eleven. That may be early for you, but to me, it's not."

Tom laughed with her. "Alright, well, your mother and I are going to go to bed, boys. Don't stay up too late."

The boys were still glued to the television. "'Night, Dad."

For claiming to be tired, Kay was absolutely giddy. "Tommy, gosh, it's nice to see you again." She laughed and kissed him.

Tom smiled. "It's nice to be back."

"Tommy?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, go for it."

"How was Stevie?"

Tom sighed. He was uncertain what to say but the truth. "She was fine, well. She sang just as good as she always does."

He thought he could see Kay smile a bit. "That's good." She yawned and pulled the covers around her. "Good night, honey."

"Good night, baby."

For that night, the doubt was like how the stars are sometimes: the darkness of the sky hides them in a shelter, where they are seemingly invisible but present still. And, the stars, just as easily, would return, at the next break of darkness.