temporary fix || george harrison

32%

WHY DID I agree to this? I could have easily refused and then moved myself across country lines, where John Lennon couldn't suss me out.

But yet here I was, the fool, standing in front of 251 Menlove Avenue with a small potted Christmas rose flower plant for the notorious Aunt Mimi. I had done some considerable thought during the 5 hour long bus ride back to Liverpool, and it was just mind mending to me that I, Juliet Bishop, was about to have Christmas Eve dinner with the Lennon's.

I must be in some sort of coma dream or alternate universe. Well, I must be in an alternate reality to exist in the same time as the John Lennon. I often forgot how lucky I was to bare witness to monumental moments in the most popular band in history.

I also neglected to recognize that I was privy to the most intimate and private parts of George and John's personalities. I was privileged beyond reason; my curse also came as a blessing.

Who knew that the first man I'd fall in love with would be George Harrison?

After a few minutes of hesitation, I made my way past the picketed white gate, through the glass protective door, and used the knocker to announce my arrival.

My heart raced in my ears, I was almost 100% positive my face was varying in shades of puce. This was a mistake, a bloody shitstorm goddamn fucking mistake. Better get it all out inside my head before my logorrhea gets the best of me.

Before I could register it, the door opened with a dramatic whoosh, warm air scented of turkey and cranberry sauce was blown into my face and I felt my muscles instantly de-poise.

I looked up to see an expectant John in his dapper Beatle ensemble, not complete without his square edged tie.

"Happy Christmas, luv." John welcomed me inside with a tender hug, to which I reacted rather pleasantly to. It was an unexpected display of affection but I welcomed it; I was touch starved and I hated to admit it.

"John! The flower!" I scolded, serving him a swathe of a backhand to his broad chest. John rolled his eyes in response, shutting the door to his childhood home behind us.

The soft sound of classical music drifted throughout the quaint home of John Lennon, drawing me in closer to the parlor to suss out the source.

"Ah ah blame the jarg misty wine in my stomach luv. It makes my head all fuzzy." John said with a cackle, and I only gave him a playful shove.

If I was here, I might as well have some fun. I can't remember the last Christmas Eve dinner I'd spend with my family, we were never exactly the Brady bunch.

"It's for Mimi you daft lad. C'mon, introduce me to the hostess so I may thank her for havin' me in her home." John nodded in acquiescence, and took ahold of my free hand in his without a second glance back at me.

I was certainly shocked at his affectionate display, wasn't he dating Cynthia Powell at this time? And why was he so keen on touching me?

As John led me into the kitchen I marveled at the wonderfully adorable framed photographs of John as a young lad that adorned the walls. His woefully round cheeks and characteristic narrow eyes made him look innocuous, hiding his mischievous nature well.

We reached the kitchen and my eyes fell upon a horde of ladies surrounding different dishes full of greens and potatoes and an assortment of foods. Only one woman caught my eye enough for me to guess it was Mimi Smith.

"Mimi, Juliet is here. Juliet, this is me Aunt Mimi. Luv, show her the flower you got." John ushered me with both hands on my middle back to his aunt where she turned around with a less than amused face framed by dainty specs perched on her nose.