Blackbird, Fly (A Paul McCartney Story)

Chapter Nine

I hurried home as fast as I could that evening, and told Tommy of my plans to take him and Ruth to the concert.  He was nervous at first, but eventually gave in, because we already had the tickets.  We just needed to come up with a lie that was good enough to convince our parents.  

We told them that one of our elderly neighbors had asked us if we would mind helping fold her laundry, and she promised Tommy a quarter if he could help her carry boxers of old clothes down into her basement.  After a moment, my father said, "How late will you be gone?  It's a school night."

Ruth and Tommy looked to me.  "We'll be home by ten at the latest." I said.  The concert ended at eight, but if Paul caught up to me or if we had trouble getting home, I would give us two hours.  My hands fidgeted nervously behind my back as Mama and Dad thought about it.  

Then he finally nodded.  "If you're a minute later, I expect a call."  While Ruth and Tommy went to put on their coats, Mama came up to me as Dad went to their room.  "See you soon sweetheart.  I love you."

Hugging her, I said, "I love you too."

Ruth, Tommy and I hurried out of the house as soon as our parents had gone to their room.  I was always either directly in front of them or behind them, afraid someone would see us and get suspicious.  I also thought about the threat that the Klan left us a few nights previous, and I was afraid that we wouldn't make it to the stadium safe and sound.  

Once we did arrive, I found that Paul's instructions in the envelope were useful.  We had made it there early, and weren't too far from the entrance.  I wasn't expecting front row seats, but the ones we had the possibility of having wouldn't be horrible.  

Unfortunately, we were the only African-Americans waiting.  The white teenagers around us stood at least one foot away, muttering those horrible words.  I held onto Ruth's hand.  Tommy was strong enough not to let the hateful thoughts bother him, but Ruth still was sensitive.  

I was just too excited to see the Beatles perform.

About forty minutes later, there was a line wrapped around the block.  Older couples passed glared at the people in the line, especially us.  Holding their noses in the air, they couldn't believe what had happened to youth those days.  How could they become so hopelessly infatuated with a British band?  And how scandalous were those young girls dressing for this concert?  Their skirts only went down to their mid-thighs!

I rolled my eyes.  

When it reached seven o'clock, the doors opened.  When I presented the tickets to the man at the door, he looked over them for about ten minutes, letting others pass us as he did.  I was irritated, and so were Ruth and Tommy.  The girl behind us was so frustrated that she shouted at the man, "Just let them in!"  After glaring at her, he did.  

My heart was pounding.  I had never been in a place like the stadium.  It was so hectic, and everyone was as excited and anxious as we were.  Ruth almost seemed frightened, even though she had known about the Beatles before I did.  Tommy just seemed like he wanted to leave.  He wasn't as into music as he was in sports. 

But soon the show started, and the boys walked out onto their stage, waving at the audience.  Both Ruth and Tommy looked at me wide-eyed and slack-jawed as I screamed for them.  It wasn't as if Paul was going to see me, but I loved seeing him.  

Some of the songs I recognized when Paul played them for me the night before acoustically.  But sometimes I couldn't even hear them because of the bad audio and screaming, hysterical fans.  

Throughout the entire concert, I couldn't stop looking at Paul, even if it was John or George who was singing.  He was just so happy.  You could tell.  He wanted to do what he was doing, whereas I had to do the job I been given.  

Ruth and I danced with each other during the Beatles' fast songs, and Tommy eventually joined in.  Even though he would never admit that he was enjoying the slightly girly, pop music, I could tell that he enjoyed himself that evening.  

At least, he was then.  

I kept thinking about the night before.  How he slowly kept moving closer to me, but was careful not to hit me with the neck of his guitar.  How he shut off the light, and then cautiously nuzzled his nose into my neck.  I sighed, trying to find his lips in the darkness.  Paul gently caressed my cheek, and kissed me.  But then he pulled me on top of him and our kissing (snogging) became more passionate-

"Maura!" Ruth shouted.  "The song is over!  Clap!"

I did, a bit embarrassed that I had become lost in thought in the middle of the incredibly loud event. 

The concert ended quicker than I thought it might have, and soon the Beatles performed their final songs and hurried off the stage.  We had to wait awhile for everyone to clear out of the stadium before I lead Ruth and Tommy to the street two blocks away from the building, which was a part of Paul's instructions.  He wanted to walk us home.  

Soon a small voice came from dark jacket, hat and jeans.  "Maura?"

"Paul!" I jumped into his arms.  Tommy immediately grabbed my arm.  "What is going on here?  You're...you're the guy from the show!  You're whit-"

I covered his mouth.  "Tommy, please don't say anything right now, or tell Mama or Dad.  I'll explain once we get home."

Paul kissed my cheek gently.  "I loved your concert," I whispered.  

"Thank you for coming." he replied, kissing my opposite cheek.  Tommy made a gagging noise, and I realized for a moment that they were still there.  Straightening out his jacket and adjusting his hat, he said, "Let's get you lot home."

Ruth and Tommy walked ahead a few feet in front of us, and Paul and I kept watch behind them.  Whispering in my ear, he said, "I'm going to miss you so much, love.  I'm so glad you could come tonight." he kissed the patch of skin just above my chin, and just below my forehead.  

"I'm going to miss you too, Paul.  But we still have a few minutes before we get home." I smiled.  We were about a block away, and he stopped me, resting a gentle hand on my stomach.  Without missing another beat, he kissed me passionately, turning me to face him.  I ran a hand through his hair, and he rested a hand on the small of my back.  There was a siren in the distance, but I didn't care for what it was for.  I was lost in the feeling of him.  

But then Ruth and Tommy tore me away from him.  Everything started to move in slow-motion, after Ruth cried, "The house is gone!"  

Paul and I ran with them, but it was as though we were moving through the thickest mud, or being blinded by a stinging rain, for I could barely see what was happening until we made it to the house.  Or what was left of it.  

The Klan had lit the house on fire after we left.  The roof collapsed.  Our neighbors were crying and shouting in the street.  

Our parents couldn't be found.  The fire department had been called, and they searched everywhere, but Mama and Dad were gone.  

Things started to get blurry.  I fell backwards, and I assumed it was into Paul's arms.  I whimpered his name, crying, the smoke burning my eyes.  Ruth and Tommy clung to the neighbor next door.  "Maura, come with us.  We'll bring up to New York.  We'll get you to your aunt."

I shook my head.  "I can't.  We don't have anything anymore.  Please...if they find out you were here you'll be in trouble.  You have to go."

"But I don't want to."

"Paul, please...we'll make it.  If you don't leave, they'll think you're the one who started the fire.  You must go."  

He shrugged off his jacket, and wrapped it around my shoulders.  "I love you." he whispered.

"I love you too."

Giving me one last teary kiss, he vanished into the dark night.