As soon as I got home, I went to my room and put my new record in the player. As I put the needle in, I was still staring at the Beatles' faces on the cover. I wondered why I had never heard of them before. They were really cute. Why had none of my friends ever mentioned them? None of the groups they liked were quite as cute as these boys were.
But then the song started, and I forgot all about that.
"The long and winding road
That leads to your door...
Will never disappear,
I've seen that road before...."
The voice was heartbreaking. It was like sadness in its purest form, turned into music. I leaned in towards the record player, fascinated and horrified all at once.
"It always leads me here,
Lead me to your door...."
Who was this singing? Why was he so sad? My fingernails dug into the record cover, trying to hold in my feelings, trying to protect the unknown Beatles from a sadness I knew I couldn't stop...
"Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried...
Anyway, you'll never know
The many ways I've tried...."
"I know," I sobbed at the record player, hardly aware of what I was saying. "I know you've tried... just tell me what's wrong... I'll make it better...."
"You left me standing here
A long, long time ago-o-o...."
I fell forwards, arms encircling the record player, not knowing when I had started crying, but unable to stop. I squeezed the player, trying to direct some comfort at that sad, sad Beatle. Who was he? What had made him feel like this?
"Don't keep me waiting here
Lead me to your door...."
The music stopped, and I was on my knees in front of the record player, exhausted, tears still falling down my cheeks.
"Carrie!"
I looked up to see my mother standing in front of me, wearing her exasperated face. "What are you doing? I thought I heard you crying, and I come in to find you hugging that record player?"
I wiped the tears from my eyes. "It...it's just so sad," I managed to say, my voice trembling.
My mother looked around my room, as if trying to find something that could have made me this sad. "Sad?" she repeated, as though she didn't quite believe me.
"This Beatle," I tried to explain, more because I needed to tell someone how I was feeling than because I thought Mom would really understand. "He's sad... he wrote this song... Mom, who was it? What made him so sad?"
My mom had her scolding expression now. "I'm sure I don't know. Carrie, your father and I have been very lenient with you. We haven't said anything about your listening to that - that music. But if this is going to make you start crying over things that don't even exist...."
"You don't understand, Mom!" I cried. "This isn't just some sad song! I know what those sound like! This is real, I can tell, this Beatle is really sad, and he needs help!"
Mom looked at me for a long moment, and she took a breath. "I really don't like what this is doing to you, Carrie. Your father and I were hoping you wouldn't turn out like all those other young people. If this is what rock music has made you become, I'm afraid we won't be able to let you listen to it anymore."
"No!" How could she do this? I loved rock music! I needed to listen to it, especially this record, I needed to keep it with me until I could find the sad Beatle and help him! And I was pretty sure, even then, that I had just found a new favourite band.
Mom sighed. "If this continues, I'm afraid we'll have to. We expected more from you, Carrie." She turned and left the room.
I lay back on the floor, which always helps me relax, and tried to compose myself. Staring up at the ceiling, I took several deep breaths, clutching the record sleeve to my chest.
After a minute or two, I felt better, and I started to think. Mom said she and Dad expected more from me. I knew she really meant they didn't want me to be the kind of person who listens to rock music, but it got me thinking. Because really, I expected more from me, too. I couldn't bear to just sit there while that Beatle's heart was broken. A thought was beginning to take shape. I had to somehow get to that Beatle, find out what was wrong, and make it all better.
I realized, of course, that even if I knew the name of the Beatle who had been singing, it wouldn't help much. He probably had an unlisted number, he probably didn't live around here - he might not live in the States at all, for that matter; so many of the bands my friends had introduced me to came from England. And still, it was somewhere to start. If I knew his name, I would know more than I did at the moment. I turned my attention to the record sleeve, which I hadn't really read until then.
The Beatles were named, and even though all the other people who had worked on this single were, as well, I figured out that the band members, the four men on the cover, were John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr. Paul was credited for singing the song. So he was the sad one... I turned the record cover to the front and traced my fingers over the lovely faces, wondering which one was Paul. I couldn't tell, just from the picture, if one of the Beatles was sadder than the others....
Who could tell me a little bit more about them? Mom and Dad wouldn't know anything and wouldn't like me trying to find out. I thought of my friends, but knew that was no good. They weren't interested in the Beatles, or they would definitely have told me about them. They only liked the most recent music, and Marvin had told me that this record was already a few years old.
Marvin. Of course. I laughed at myself for not thinking of it right away. He must know something about the Beatles. Maybe he even knew how to find them.
But then the song started, and I forgot all about that.
"The long and winding road
That leads to your door...
Will never disappear,
I've seen that road before...."
The voice was heartbreaking. It was like sadness in its purest form, turned into music. I leaned in towards the record player, fascinated and horrified all at once.
"It always leads me here,
Lead me to your door...."
Who was this singing? Why was he so sad? My fingernails dug into the record cover, trying to hold in my feelings, trying to protect the unknown Beatles from a sadness I knew I couldn't stop...
"Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried...
Anyway, you'll never know
The many ways I've tried...."
"I know," I sobbed at the record player, hardly aware of what I was saying. "I know you've tried... just tell me what's wrong... I'll make it better...."
"You left me standing here
A long, long time ago-o-o...."
I fell forwards, arms encircling the record player, not knowing when I had started crying, but unable to stop. I squeezed the player, trying to direct some comfort at that sad, sad Beatle. Who was he? What had made him feel like this?
"Don't keep me waiting here
Lead me to your door...."
The music stopped, and I was on my knees in front of the record player, exhausted, tears still falling down my cheeks.
"Carrie!"
I looked up to see my mother standing in front of me, wearing her exasperated face. "What are you doing? I thought I heard you crying, and I come in to find you hugging that record player?"
I wiped the tears from my eyes. "It...it's just so sad," I managed to say, my voice trembling.
My mother looked around my room, as if trying to find something that could have made me this sad. "Sad?" she repeated, as though she didn't quite believe me.
"This Beatle," I tried to explain, more because I needed to tell someone how I was feeling than because I thought Mom would really understand. "He's sad... he wrote this song... Mom, who was it? What made him so sad?"
My mom had her scolding expression now. "I'm sure I don't know. Carrie, your father and I have been very lenient with you. We haven't said anything about your listening to that - that music. But if this is going to make you start crying over things that don't even exist...."
"You don't understand, Mom!" I cried. "This isn't just some sad song! I know what those sound like! This is real, I can tell, this Beatle is really sad, and he needs help!"
Mom looked at me for a long moment, and she took a breath. "I really don't like what this is doing to you, Carrie. Your father and I were hoping you wouldn't turn out like all those other young people. If this is what rock music has made you become, I'm afraid we won't be able to let you listen to it anymore."
"No!" How could she do this? I loved rock music! I needed to listen to it, especially this record, I needed to keep it with me until I could find the sad Beatle and help him! And I was pretty sure, even then, that I had just found a new favourite band.
Mom sighed. "If this continues, I'm afraid we'll have to. We expected more from you, Carrie." She turned and left the room.
I lay back on the floor, which always helps me relax, and tried to compose myself. Staring up at the ceiling, I took several deep breaths, clutching the record sleeve to my chest.
After a minute or two, I felt better, and I started to think. Mom said she and Dad expected more from me. I knew she really meant they didn't want me to be the kind of person who listens to rock music, but it got me thinking. Because really, I expected more from me, too. I couldn't bear to just sit there while that Beatle's heart was broken. A thought was beginning to take shape. I had to somehow get to that Beatle, find out what was wrong, and make it all better.
I realized, of course, that even if I knew the name of the Beatle who had been singing, it wouldn't help much. He probably had an unlisted number, he probably didn't live around here - he might not live in the States at all, for that matter; so many of the bands my friends had introduced me to came from England. And still, it was somewhere to start. If I knew his name, I would know more than I did at the moment. I turned my attention to the record sleeve, which I hadn't really read until then.
The Beatles were named, and even though all the other people who had worked on this single were, as well, I figured out that the band members, the four men on the cover, were John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr. Paul was credited for singing the song. So he was the sad one... I turned the record cover to the front and traced my fingers over the lovely faces, wondering which one was Paul. I couldn't tell, just from the picture, if one of the Beatles was sadder than the others....
Who could tell me a little bit more about them? Mom and Dad wouldn't know anything and wouldn't like me trying to find out. I thought of my friends, but knew that was no good. They weren't interested in the Beatles, or they would definitely have told me about them. They only liked the most recent music, and Marvin had told me that this record was already a few years old.
Marvin. Of course. I laughed at myself for not thinking of it right away. He must know something about the Beatles. Maybe he even knew how to find them.
"Woah, that was incredible!" Laura said once her father finished telling the story (as well as their donuts and hot drinks). "Indeed. I'd have to concur with the bus driver; you and your bandmates really were destined for greatness!" Pattie added.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, me ladies! Of course, that's only the beginning; for I've got some more stuff from this period to share with ye over the following weeks." George replied. "Goodie! Can't wait for those!" Laura replied. "Here-here!" Pattie said. "Splendid! Until then, whaddya say we continue on with our lovely walk?" George said. His wife and daughter nodded in agreement.
With that, they disposed the empty box and cups in a nearby trash bin and went on to enjoy the rest of their park day.
THE END
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, me ladies! Of course, that's only the beginning; for I've got some more stuff from this period to share with ye over the following weeks." George replied. "Goodie! Can't wait for those!" Laura replied. "Here-here!" Pattie said. "Splendid! Until then, whaddya say we continue on with our lovely walk?" George said. His wife and daughter nodded in agreement.
With that, they disposed the empty box and cups in a nearby trash bin and went on to enjoy the rest of their park day.
THE END