People Can You Hear Me? [A Brian May Story]

[19]

I frown, biting the inside of my cheek.  Where was this coming from? I barely know anything about him besides that he plays guitar and does astronomy. Noah's words of Brian being a boffin rings through my mind. He's definitely awkward, from his body to the way he can never seem to form full sentences around me. But I don't think he's a boffin. There is nothing wrong with wanting to study and learn in my opinion. The smart people always end up having the leg up in this world.

"Lovies come quick!" Freddie shouts. "The Goodies is on!"

I give Brian an inquisitive look. He slightly smiles. "It's a show, mainly sketches filled with silly slapstick. It's not really my cup of tea."

"That doesn't matter!" Freddie pipes in from the other room. "She can decide for herself."

As we walk out of the kitchen I hear Brian mumble something under his breath that I can't pick up. I turn to him but he simply gives me a sweet smile. I look to see where to sit in the tiny living room. There was one extra sitting chair taken from the table and a very beat-up looking black bean bag.

"Take your pick," Brian says, gesturing to my options.

I opt for the bean bag. The chairs we sat at the table were not very comfy. I move the bean bag so I wouldn't be in the way of anyone watching. I flop down on the bean bag but it was much less firm than I expected and the fabric rolls in such a way that I go flying backward off it. I involuntarily let out a squeak as I nearly avoid hitting my head on the table stand behind me.

"Genevieve!" was the collected shout from the group.

Oh good God, this so embarrassing. I quickly roll back up, sitting onto my backside. I can feel my face flushing deep red all the way to my neck.

"Are you alright?" Mary asks, concern on her face.

I nod and awkwardly rub my neck as I scrambled back onto the bean bag. I don't want to face them until I'm sure my face is no longer flushed. God, what a doofus! You don't just flop onto a bean bag! You sit normally, slowly Eve. Ridiculous.

The show itself was dumb but I had to admit that the slapstick was funny. It was cheesy but I could not deny that I wasn't having a fun time. My apartment doesn't have a television so this was nice to see what kind of shows they have here. It's very different from I Dream of Jeannie or Leave It To Beaver. Shows that express the American home as being a happy and connected one.

"Genevieve, it's almost time for bed. What did I say about watching that show? Turn it off and go brush your teeth," my mom would come in and say as another episode came on.

As a twelve-year-old, of course I did not want to go to bed. Especially when my dream was to become a powerful witch like Samantha in Bewitched. Just a wiggle of her nose and she could cast spells. I would sit in front of the mirror for hours, trying to move my own and desperately wishing that I could feel my tongue form words.

At the dinner table, if I ever got mad at my parents, I would try and wiggle my nose at them, indicating that I was casting a spell on them. Oh boy, that often got me in big trouble.

"I told you that show is a terrible influence on children," my father had griped to my aunt one time as I sat in the time out corner, picking at the cracks in the linoleum floor.

"I think it's marvelous, George," she said and gave me a wink from the kitchen. "She obviously sees herself doing bigger things just like Samantha."

"I don't consider witchcraft a laughing matter, Cynthia."

"Nonsense, she wants to experience magic and joy, just like every other boy and girl. Eve, your timeout is up. Come play a game with me!"