Two Strange Girls||A Beatles Story

Do You Want To Know the Truth

"Whoa," I said. "You're famous."

"Really, Tessa? I never would have thought," Faith remarked, sarcastically.

George stared at the both of us. "What's going on?" he asked.

I looked at Faith; she looked at me. "We're—" Faith starts.

"I'm Tessa Hills, and that's Faith, my sister. We're from the future. You're George Harrison."

Don't get mad at me for telling George we're from the future. I was young and naive.

There was silence all around. The air was still and stiff. Then George let out a low laugh. "Right." I think he was joking.

Faith took a short breath. "We weren't supposed to tell you. I mean, it's like a big no-no to tell anyone where you're from. But yes. We're from the future."

"We aren't fans, either. Well, I'm not. Faith is." I took a short breath before I began embarrassing my sister. "Faith is totally freaking out because you're here and in the present you're not. So this is a big deal for her. Plus she's with her favorite person of all time right now who just happens to be in the past with her."

I think George was trying to understand what I was saying. I did talk really fast. Finally, he started talking. "Wait, you said I'm not in the future. Do I die?"

"Yes," I said before Faith could stop me. "But your family misses you deeply. The whole world misses you deeply."

There was a long pause before George spoke again. "How did I die?"

Faith said, "You can't know. It would change the future," before I could say anything.

"But," I argued, "it is something he could stop himself."

"True, but it will still change the future."

"I want to know," George said, making us turn to him. "I want to know."

"Wait? You actually believe us? Like, believe believe us? You don't think we're some crazed fans?" I asked in astonishment.

George shrugged. "There's something about the two of you that is believable; maybe it's the fact that I can see some things in the two of you that I don't in girls now."

Faith sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

"You got lung cancer from smoking cigarettes," I said bluntly.

"Tessa!" Faith snapped.

"Faith!" I mocked.

George didn't look too good. I mean, he did just learn how he died. And I think cigarettes were one of his favorite things.

I looked at him sympathetically and asked, "Georgie, are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It's a long ways away. I'll just pretend to forget about it until then. Is anyone else dead?"

I stuck my thumb out. "Good!" But I didn't know the answer to his last question. How could I? I didn't care for the group to know too much. I knew George's because Faith talked a lot about him. I played with my jeans. Only they weren't jeans. I looked down at my outfit. It actually looked like something from the sixties—a skirt, long sleeve shirt, high kneed socks, and loafers. I ran to the car. "Oh. My. Gosh. Please don't tell me it's all like this!"

There was no key fob that started the car automatically; it was a key. I threw that out. I checked the glove department. All of my makeup I secretly kept in Faith's car was still there. What a relief. And my smartphone was still intact; I quickly put it in my skirt's waistband.

I walked back over to my sister and the man from the past. "I thought everything from the future stayed like it was in the future! What is this?"

Faith shrugged. "Nothing was ever really set in stone. Those were just in movies and books."

"But what about the future?"

"I'm sure nothing is happening. Time may be frozen in the spot we left," Faith tried to assure me.

"But what about our clothes? How long are we going to be here before we have to wear bags because we don't have any outfits?"

"I can get you money to go buy some things," George spoke up. "Since you don't know how long you'll be staying here."

Faith looked horrid. "No, no, no. You don't need to buy us anything. Besides, we'll just be getting in your way."

"Nonsense. As long as I'm at the recording studio by two thirty, we can do whatever you want."

I smiled. "Deal, Gramps."

"Don't call me that. Please."

"Nope, Gramps. It's sticking. That, or Georgie." I made my way down the sidewalk, heading in who knows where direction.

"Other way, Tessa," the two of them said in unison.

"How do you know?" George asked Faith.

"It's 'cause she studied the places were you've been," I answered for her. I shoved past them again, heading in the opposite direction I was before.

George and Faith talked about the band and solo careers in the future. Well, George asked; Faith told him things about stuff that already happened in this timeline instead.

"What's it like where you're from?" he asked while he waited outside our dressing rooms.

"Imagine the salty ocean mist in your hair. The heat from the sun radiates off of the asphalt. Imagine walking with your best friends talking and laughing in a local coffee shop. That's what it's like in twenty-nineteen," I said in the dressing room of a boutique.

"That's very descriptive of the coast," Faith said in the dressing room next to me. "You should incorporate those lyrics into one of your songs." Faith was supportive of my guitar playing and song writing. I think it's because she couldn't write or play herself.

"You write?" asked George.

I hopped out of the dressing room. "Only a little. More guitar playing than anything."

I handed my stack of clothes to George as I went to a more personal section of the boutique. I grabbed a few bras and lots of undies before making my way to George again. Faith was coming out of the changing room. I pointed to the more personal items for her. When she came back, we went to the cash register.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Faith asked for the millionth time.

"I'm sure. It's not every day I meet two time travelers," he said in a hushed whisper so no one else would hear us.

I walked out of the store with two dresses, four skirts, five shirts, six pair of socks, sandals, one pair of loafers, one pair of stilettos, twelve underwear and panties, and five bras. I didn't know what all Faith got. I knew she was mad at what I bought, but I didn't care.

We hopped into a taxi, and George said to the driver, "EMI studios."

I looked up at him. "Shouldn't we go to your place with these bags?" I only had to carry three, but still.

"We don't have time. I'm sure the lads will love to meet the two of you. My . . . friends, that's who you'll be."

I didn't seem convinced. We were American, and I didn't think George knew Americans yet. But I couldn't say anything else because we were already on the road.