February 1966
Maya's POV
''Maya!'' I heard him yell as I threw myself in his arms and we almost fell over. We laughed and held on to each other.
''Can I get a hug too?'' asked a voice and I looked up.
''Sure, Jimmy.'' I said as I hugged him too. There they were, my two best friends, visiting me here in Paris. Robert's golden hair now hung around his shoulders and Jimmy had grown a a beard. They both wrapped their arms around my shoulders as we walked out of the airport.
''How are you?'' asked Robert, giving my shoulder a squeeze
''I'm alright.'' I said, and I felt alright, better now that my friends were there. We took a cab and arrived home. My father was working for the day.
When I'd arrived from New York two years before, he'd insisted I live in our big house with it's inmense gardens and that he'd pay for my journalism studies. My dad and I were never very expressive and we could communicate more over silence than any failed attempt to make conversation. My mother's death had delivered a hard blow on him and he'd taken it gracefully, occupying his time with me and his work. He'd given me a perfectly furnished room on the second floor, with big windows and bookshelves lining the cream colored walls. I'd arrived with one suitcase, filled mostly with books and records. I'd rebuilt my life there, studying as a journalist, reading, and enlarging my book collection as much as my record collection. The Beatles often wrote, mostly George and Ringo whom were the most expressive, sending pages and pages of things they'd seen or heard or thought of, John's letter were shorter but always managed to make me smile, Paul's were a few lines, but they warmed my heart and I missed him dearly.
Although, it had been a year since I'd last received letters and I started to feel the emptiness. I followed my father's way of living and I tried filling the void with journalism, books and records. I had millions of Elvis , Rolling Stones, Sinatra and Beatles records. I hadn't given up on my love for the Beatles, but I listened to their music cautiously, trying to ignore the images of memories that always flooded my mind. I'd gotten back to drinking regularly but I'd quit smoking, rejecting the weird fashion that implied that French smoking women were sexy.
I opened the door, making an exaggerated sweeping gesture and blushed as my two friends ooh'd and aah'd the house. I'd done the same thing on the day of my arrival and I understood them perfectly. I'd gone from a normal one bedroom apartment to a two story house with an inmense garden and a field behind it with apple trees, I knew what it was like to feel surprised and awed.
I led them up to my room and I laughed as Jimmy murmured something about the house looking like Norman Bates's house. They both placed their backpacks on the floor and wandered around the room. It was big enough for two matresses to fit beside the double bed and they were each designed for each of my friends. I'd told my father earlier, and he'd agreed, he couldn't really deny it either because I was 26 now, I'd stopped being his little girl a long time ago. Jimmy threw himself on one of the matresses, the one under the bookshelves and on the right side of the bed, placing his arms behind his head, in an utterly relaxed pose as he closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. It had been a long day for them, I guessed. Robert was more careful though, he sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for me to sit beside him. I sat as he told me and he met my eyes, his full of concern and I could already feel the tears starting to blur my eyes.
''How's Maureen, Rob?'' I asked, trying to keep my voice from wavering and maintain him distracted.
''She's good. Her career's improving, we're getting married in December.'' he said, his voice lighting up but his worried eyes still locked on mine.
''That's wonderful. I'm invited, am I not?'
''Yes, you're the best woman.'' he said, laughing a little.
''I'm your best woman?'' I giggled as I pictured myself wearing a suit. He nodded as he stifled a laugh again, stealing glances at Jimmy in case he woke up. I stared at the window, the sun painting the sky an orange-pink color and I let a tear escape, hoping Rob wouldn't see it. I wiped it swiftly away and I met eyes with him again.
''Now, little darling, will you tell me what's wrong or do I have to use reverse psychology?'' he said with the same grin he always gave me when he wanted me to spill the story.
George's POV
I was in a meadow, under an apple tree. The dream struck me as vaguely familiar, with a feeling of déjà vu. I sat under the grass, breathing in the scent of apples mixed with the grassy smell as I heard a soft laughter and a girl sat in front of me. She had green eyes and her brown hair blew wildly in every direction as it was pushed around by a swift breeze. She smiled at me, and then recited Lewis Carroll, and I remembered her suddenly. Maya. Maya Carter. I hadn't talked to her in a year. I hadn't seen her in two. She'd been in the two dreams that had led me to write ''I Need You.'' She'd been my muse, and I started to remember another song, but I couldn't grasp the lyrics yet.
I woke up suddenly, with the name Maya escaping my lips like a cry in the night. I heard someone stir in the dark and a sleepy voice call.
''Did you just say Maya?'' I didn't answer as I recognized the soft voice of Paul.
''You did, didn't you?'' he said again, his voice rougher.
''Yes.'' I responded simply and I heard him move around in his bed. I closed my eyes, trying to get back to sleep, but I could hear the sounds of Paul moving in his bed, awakened by the memories of Maya, the girl he'd loved and hadn't talked to in more than a year.
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I'm starting school tomorrow, so I just wanted to upload the first chapter, I'll try to upload as soon as I can in the week, depending on homework and how tired I feel, if not, I promise I'll upload on friday/saturday. Enjoy
