Blackbird, Fly (A Paul McCartney Story)

Chapter Five

I had fallen asleep once again in his arms when Paul began to kiss me again.  Once I had realized what he wanted, I woke up and happily kissed him back.  Things started to heat up again, but I quietly told him to stop.  We couldn't go any farther than small kisses.  

Then I thought of the time.  It had to be almost four in the morning, and that's about the time my father woke up.  "Paul, you must go.  They'll wonder where you are."  He got up and began pulling on his shoes.  I fixed his collar and re-buttoned his shirt.  I thought I heard my dad move through the hall.  Though I knew he wouldn't wake me until five, Paul and I grabbed each other in fear as he passed.  

Once he was gone, Paul gave me a fast but swooning kiss before climbing out the window.  "I hope I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Paul," I whispered.  He kissed the hand that was leaning on the windowsill before taking off down the sidewalk.  

While I got dressed, I noticed I still smelled like his cologne, but I didn't put on anything to mask it.  I loved the smell.  Though I was always aware that by kissing him and lying with him would cost me my life, and maybe even his, I didn't seem to care.  Neither did he.  If I had the chance, I would certainly leave Jacksonville and run away with the beautiful boy, but I knew that dreams like those never came true.

 Oh, it was becoming so hard to resist him!  He had the most beautiful eyes and soft hair.  He had taken to singing me to sleep, and I realized he had such a wonderful low voice.  He was gentle and intelligent.  What girl could deny it?

But I was soon to find out today that Paul didn't deny.  

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It was very quiet in the hallway when I first started hearing the noise.  I walked carefully down the hall with my maid's cart, about to unlock the storage room when I realized the voices were coming from Paul's room.  

Even though it was completely against the rules, I listened to the conversation.  

"-say they saw you on the Negro side of town, on a date." A sweet, Southern voice said.  There was a girl in the room with him.  

"Oh, no.  Why would I ever go there?"  

My heart beat quickened.  Was he lying to protect our secret, or did he like this girl?  

"People have been saying that your band has been fighting for integration.  Don't you know how wrong that is?"  

There was some shifting around when Paul said, "I'm for it."

The girl gasped.  "You were on a date with a Negro, weren't you?"  

Paul immediately replied, saying, "No, of course not."  My heart was pounding.  I wanted to know what he was thinking.  What was he trying to do?  

Then that sweet voice spoke again.  "Well, do you mind if I get a little bit closer?"  He didn't reply, but there was some moving around.  "You're so very handsome, Paul.  I'm so glad John set us up on a date."

A date?

"Thank you.  You look lovely."

"Why, thank you."  

The girl still pressured him.  "My daddy would never let me out on a date with a boy like you.  He's all for segregation.  But he's not here..." She must have whispered something, for I didn't hear what she said, but I heard Paul's reply.  "How could I ever stand to be near a-"

And he said it.  He said that horrible, awful word that everyone spat at us when they thought we couldn't hear.  Paul, the most handsome man I had ever seen, said the ugliest word I had ever known.