FicWad

It was Saturday the next day, so naturally I spent a good long time sleeping in. I was up by about ten, and Lucy was already out and about. She’d left a note claiming she’d gone grocery shopping, but I had a feeling she was out with a certain Joseph, who has become her latest infatuation.

The package that Mr. Golightly had promised me was already here, sitting on my entryway rug. I was curious, so in my paisley pyjamas, I picked up the brown box and cut it open. There was the leather-bound, quite large journal, and an envelope with my name on it.

21/5/1964

Alice-

Dearie me, I’m afraid we never did get together that weekend, did we? I suppose you’re rather confused at the moment. Why am I giving you this ratty, un-fab journal? It’s not very complicated. Read the first page, duckie, and follow the directions. Once you fulfil them, you can choose whether or not to flip the page and write about your adventures. It’s my final wish. I love you, and so do your mother and your grandmother. I’m sorry I didn’t spend as much time with you as I wanted to. Let me tell you, the world is not as simple and as logical as everyone seems to think. I have realized and agonized, but I don’t necessarily want you to do the same. I do hope you follow out those directions. I think you’ll be thankful one of these days. I love you, and I always will.

Love Always,
Anna, Your Great-Grandmother

I was rather shocked that she could write as if she was my age and yet she was nearly ninety four when she died. In fact, the date on the letter corresponds to the day before she died. It’s as if she felt it coming.

I was feeling curiouser and curiouser. I opened the leather-bound book rather eagerly, but I found writing only on the first page.

Directions:

Have some adventures and do write them down; you'll thank yourself one day.

I gaped rather stupidly. These were the most ambiguous directions I had ever seen.

Two hours later, I was walking around New York City and trying to find something worthwhile to do. I found a music shop. My interest was lighted. My mother was teaching me guitar before she died. She never got past teaching me three chords.

The shop was deserted, so I wandered, running my fingertips over every instrument and then sitting on a cushion and reading a bunch of album backings.
I lost track of time. I was only conscious when I saw a pair of glasses fall next to my feet. I glanced up slowly.

“Sorry,” the voice sounded truly contrite.

I nodded, not really paying attention. The new Rolling Stones album looked brilliant.

“Well, aren’t you going to say hello?” the boy insisted, nudging me a bit with his shoe.

“Hello, and could you please not touch me with that filthy shoe of yours,” I snapped looking up fully.

John Lennon shrugged. “Sure, love. But do you mind handing me my glasses? I’m blind as a bat without them.”

I snatched the glasses, stood up and handed them brusquely to him. “Here you go then.”

“And who are you?” John asked, placing the glasses on upside-down.

“I am trying to read,” was my witty reply.

Undeterred, John simply sat next to me. “That’s a terrible album, by the way, and isn’t a man entitled to know the name of the lovely young woman who snubbed him so classily?”

I looked up, and I cracked a smile. “I’m Alice Westwood.”

John nodded in approval. “It’s nice to meet you Alice.”
“Actually, I haven’t really met you.” I replied smartly.

He blinked behind his glasses. “I assumed you knew.”

“Well you know what people say about assuming,” I stole the line from some television show.

John shook his head. “No, what do they say?”

“That you...shouldn’t,” I improvised sheepishly.

He laughed cheerfully. “Well, I’m John Lennon.”

I nodded. “I know.”

John looked puzzled. “So I was correct in assuming...”

“Yes, yes you were.” I flashed him a winning smile.

He grinned even wider. “Now, are you going to buy that record?”

“Nah, you’ve put me off it.”

“Right,” he stood up and reached for my hand. “Let’s have some lunch.”

I was at a loss for words as he shook my hand in greeting. “Er- John? I’m not sure if...”

“Oh come on, Alice. It’s just lunch. Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.

“Well yes, but-”

John was already pulling me out the door. “And so am I. Would you prefer it if we
coincidentally met up at a certain restaurant?”

I laughed quietly. “Okay then. But only because I’m famished and because your accent is lovely.”

John smirked. “You’ve got a tinge of an accent there, love.”

“My dad’s from England,” I explained as John led the way through New York to a small cafe.

“That certainly explains it. Well, here we are,” he sat us down at a small booth.

I smiled politely. “How long are the Beatles in town for?”

John looked pleasantly surprised. “So you know the band?”

“Everyone knows your band, John Lennon, and you know it.”

He grinned. “I never get over the shock of pretty birds worshipping us.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I think you got over it real fast.”

The waitress came and took our order. I chose the roast lamb sandwich, while John opted for the turkey melt. Conversing with John was easier than I thought. I mean, yes, he was a Beatle. Lucy had all of their records, and she was waiting excitedly for the next one. She had tried in vain to get tickets to their show here.

“You must not like being on the road all the time,” I reasoned, taking a sip of my lemonade.

“Not at all; it can be hell,” John immediately said. Then he pondered. “Although, being with the lads makes it better. They’re like me brothers, yeh know.”

I beamed. “I can tell by the way you talk of them. Do all of you write songs?”

John shook his head. “Nah, it’s mainly just me and Paulie. Sometimes George will have somethin’, but other than that...”

I nodded faintly. “Do you miss your family a lot?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “although it’s just Cyn and Julian.”

“You definitely must miss your wife and little boy!” I exclaimed.

John looked surprised. “Yeah, I suppose I do. I really try to get me mind off of home when I’m on tour.”

I ignored his hint at changing the subject and pressed the family subject. “How old is Julian?”

“About a year old,” was the reply.

I smiled dreamily. “Oh, babies are lovely at that age.”

“Yes,” John mumbled, “but I’m missing all of it, aren’t I? If I had known you going to lecture me about this shit I would have gotten my sandwich to go!”

I felt bad instantly. I patted his arm tentatively. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m bad at keeping my opinions to myself.”

“Yeah, you are,” John snapped bluntly.

I blushed and retreated towards the crusts of my sandwich. I hated crusts, but with lack of anything else to do, I gobbled them up. I reached into my pocket and placed ten dollars down, enough to cover my meal, the drink, and a large tip.

“It was nice meeting you, John Lennon,” I said in closing.

He said nothing in return. He just sat there, silent and still. I walked out on John Lennon, and I didn’t regret it until I was one block away. Was this what you wanted, Great-Gran? Did you want me to embarrass myself in front of an intelligent celebrity? Hm?

I went home rather frustrated with myself. I hadn’t even gotten an autograph, for Christ’s sake! I was angrily flipping through the stupid journal when Lucy came home, tugging her latest love, Joseph, by the waist. They were kissing.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. They broke apart and Lucy grew red in the face. “Oh, Alice! I thought you’d be out.”

I smiled at her intentions and gathered up my journal. “Don’t worry; I was just on my way out. Have fun you two.”

And so I left my apartment again, feeling rather hopeless. I decided to sit down in Central Park and write in the damn journal.

Meeting a celebrity is not as amazing as people tell you it is. They’re just regular people-people who can get just as pissed as anyone else. I can imagine I’m not exactly well-liked by John Lennon. Well, there’s my adventure. Thanks, Great-Gran. Thanks so much.

I just sat there for a while, doodling on the page and reliving my meeting with John over and over again. I wanted this engraved in my head. I didn’t bother to look up when I heard the sound of feet stumbling.

“Cor! This place is massive!” The thick Liverpudlian accent caught my attention and my head shot up.

It wasn’t John-it was George, I think. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, hello; are you Alice Westwood by any chance?” George asked slowly, taking a seat next to me.

“Yes, why do you ask?” I asked curiously.

George grinned crookedly. “Hang on a tick. JOHN! I FOUND HER!”

A figure walking in the other direction turned and ran over to where George and I were sitting. Yep, that was definitely John.

“Who are you, by the way?” I asked curiously, even though I already knew.

“I’m George Harrison,” he offered me a hand. I shook it with a smile.

“It’s lovely to meet you, George.”

By this time, John had joined us, and was bent over, gasping for breath.

“John,” I nodded politely.

He was breathing heavily by now. “Alice! Do you know how big this bleeding park is?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s the famous Central Park, John; it’s supposed to be big. And how did you know I was here?”

“I’m not stalking you or anything,” he said quickly.

George laughed. “We looked you up in the phonebook. The girl who answered the phone said you were probably here. Apparently, you’re always here.”

I smirked. “That was Lucy. And, you probably interrupted her rendezvous with Joseph, her latest target.”

John smiled devilishly. “Maybe I’m chasing the wrong girl.”

George made a face and stuck his hands in his pocket.

Nodding, I looked around for something else to talk about.

“So, do you come here a lot?” John asked curiously.

“Often when Lucy’s got someone at home,” I giggled at the thought.

John looked at what little of the park he could see. “How do yeh find your way around?”

I smiled at the thought. “Yes, that was a problem for a while. The first time I came in here, I found the most perfect bench to sit on and just think about things and relax. I spent the next two weeks trying to find it again. It was very stressful indeed.”

Both of the boys laughed. “Did you ever find it again?” George wanted to know.

I rapped my knuckles on the bench I was sitting on. “I never lost it again.”

John gave me a smile. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize.”

“Really, you ran around Central Park just to say sorry?” I asked incredulously.

George piped in. “It’s sort of a fancy we’ve had; running around New York without anyone noticing us.”

“Yeah, New Yorkers don’t really look past their own noses,” I agreed.

John looked indignant at George’s interruption. “No really, love, I’m sorry for being a prick.”

I sighed. “I told you, John. I can’t keep my opinions to myself. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Well, it’s a bit late for that. We’ve only been tramping around the entire city to look for yeh,” John said teasingly.

“What time is it?” I said all of a sudden.

George peered at the watch on his wrist. “It’s 1:37.”

I nodded, standing up. “I’d better get home and see if Lucy wants to let me in or if she’s busy with Joseph.”

“Why bother?” George called. “Just come have a lark with us lads.”

It was a very tempting offer, and my mind went back to the journal. “It’s your choice whether to write about your adventures.”

I was certainly up for an adventure. “Sure, but only if they’re toilet trained.”

The two of them laughed and George stood up. I followed them out of the park and into the murky city, and I waited for the adventures to start.