Why I looked to Calico Skies

January 30 1964

"The fucking bastard! We should've taken him in the first place Elizabeth!" The iron-like fist of my Uncle slams against the table, the sound of which is muffled through my thin walls as the tin roof reacts to the heavy precipitation in which thunders outside. I roll over my side and pull the blankets closer to my heart. Slow and steady it goes, with the slight feeling of my concern. The wooden chair of which I believe my aunt is sitting in, shrieks across the wood floor. "He's just a boy Alistair! Give him some time, and just believe in him for god's sake! Think of our Sophie." I sit up immediately, stepping from my thin bed and onto the creaky floor, my eyes set to the hole of which was earlier scraped through the cheaply made wood. "He's all she has left. And you KNOW how torn she would be if you kicked him out of the house. John's the only father figure she's had. She looks up to him...I know she does." Uncle Alistair takes her hands, putting them closely to his face. "I'm not going to let my sweet niece idolize a bastard. He's a monster, my dear." He whispers sternly. "She's my niece too- Alistair. And he's our nephew. Your nephew. They're our blood." I Sit up. My eyes burn with saddened tears, yet I refuse to let them fall. I run swiftly downstairs, stepping slower, and slower as I approach the argument. The door suddenly creaks open.- John. "Oh shit." A voice behind him calls, followed by several running feet. "Alistair." He nods nervously to my Uncle, slowly doing the same to my Aunt, he greets her. "Elizabeth." She smiles sweetly back, patting out her apron. "Where have you been." Uncle Alistair asks, in which was so sternly said sounded more as a statement. "Out and about as anyone." John mutters, Uncle Alistair's face grows a deep red. "Where, in fucking Liverpool, have you been? With your band? Eh? Or with your fuckin' pregnant wife, you sick bastard!" A hand is raised high in the air. I quickly jump from the stairs in that exact moment. The power within his giant hands felt as if it they had tore my jaw, I fall to the floor, groping my face. "Sophie!" Aunt Elizabeth screams- John picks me up from the floor, pulling my head into the warmth of his green, Cologne soaked sweater. "Sophie love, Sophie, dear Sophie- are you alright?" He answers with concern in his tone, I nod through the pain as he kisses the top of my head. In the corner of my eye, Aunt Elizabeth pulls my trauma stricken Uncle from his place, smacking him straight in the face screaming. "Stop!" I run from John's arms, pushing them away from each other. Tears begin to rush from my face. "Stop. Please just stop! I know he might make mistakes but, but he's your family too! And you know what? You should be proud of him. He's going to America in a bit- and he's going to become a legend. I know so. And if you're too busy nagging " I look slowly to my brother. John smiles. "My dearest Sophie. I- i apologize for what I have done to you. But...no. After lookin after you and your brother, since you were both wee things- watch 'em leave and come back broke. The bastard 'ill be too damn stubborn to admit that I'm right, he'll probably just rot on the streets on 'is own." Alistair's voice became so deep, so chillingly evil-like , I bet the trash in the dumpsters would be running off in failure. I hated him. Especially the resemblance of whom he holds with my father, that causes my lack of sleep at night. I raise my chin, looking straight into his deep green eyes I grab my brother's hand, holding it tightly. "I'll rot with him. And I'm going with." "You're staying with us. You're safer her than, than with "that"." Alistair points a large finger at John, in whom begins to scan him down with furious eyes. "Says who? The man who just smacked me?" I clench my fists, the room goes silent. I can feel my face boil to an extreme heat- as a volcano before it erupts. But before I explode with my fury, I shake off my emotions, storming up stairs my eyes once again fill with tears-
I once again refuse to let them fall.
•••••

I fix my braid quietly. Humming the lovely songs from the Wizard of Oz, of which I had loved since a young age, as they had always seemed to calm me.
The time is fairly late, considering the fact that I had school tomorrow. Yet if I was to go with John, leaving to watch his last minute rehearsals would be an exception.

The door slowly swings open.

"Hello, love." John's voice calls. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. I'm..." He sits on his bed in which sits across mine, putting a palm to his forehead. I walk over behind him, climbing over his back and wrapping my arms around his neck, I sigh. "It's alright. It's just that, it makes me a bit angry, ya know? How Uncle doesn't believe in you. " "An ass, is what he is." John smirks. We both laugh softly. "But...maybe he's looking out for you, never know. " I shrug, walking over to my bed and turning out the lights. And slowly, I drift off to sleep.

"Sophie...wake up." John whispers. "What, John? What are you doing up?" "What do you say we leave tonight, the boys and I will be staying at a hotel nearby the airport to rehearse our performance, you can sleep in the car. The boys, Aunt Elizabeth, and I have planned this for quite a while, so you'll need to make up your mind quickly, love." John sits up, pulling a couple luggage bags from under his bed. "That's insane! What about uncle?" I get up, pushing my sheets away. "Aunt says her and Mimi will take care of it. But all joking aside, I'd feel appreciated to have my sister along side me. C'mon Soph."
"Alright, alright." I yawn, quickly beginning to pack my bags, John smiles.
•••
As we sneak downstairs, Aunt Elizabeth waits alongside Aunt Mimi by the door as car lights shine through the windows. "Oh darling. I'm so proud of you." Aunt Elizabeth hugs John. "Now take good care of Sophie for us." She sets a velvet winter hat on my head, giving me a hug. Aunt Mimi embraces both of us, tears coming down from her face. "We'll be watching you John. All of us."
We open the door. A cold chill brushes my face as we pile into the car.
Paul is sitting in the front, along with Ringo. Sadly, I'm squished between a hyper George Harrison , and an overly excited John Lennon.

"Good luck!" Our aunts call after our car as we drive off.

I'll be needing it.