Lovely Rita

I stomped my way back to the corner rather uncouthly; I slammed my feet onto the pavement and my hands balled into fists as I power walked unglamorously. My mind was so red, I couldn't even comprehend what I was thinking of precisely. It had a million and one different things buzzing around it, and I felt like my head could burst if I didn't filter some stuff out; but I couldn't.

I saw the corner approaching, and I started to slow down, and come to a halt internally and externally.

"What am I doing?" I asked myself quietly. I needed to think about this more. I decided to go home and check in with my friends first, and let them know I might be leaving for good.

Getting back to the apartment, I quietly moped into the room, slamming my keys down onto the kitchen counter and putting the kettle on to boil. I leaned back against the counter next to my keys facing side on to Mickey and the rest of my roommates. I bit at my thumbnail as Paul used to do. I'd subtly picked it up as one of my own traits now; when I was nervous or thinking. This time I was thinking. I was kind of staring into oblivion and not noticing anything around me, and not particularly thinking of much but the obvious; Paul, and also how I was going to get back.

I gave up waiting for the kettle in the end and flicked up the switch, and stalked off to my room after being ignored by the guys. My door slammed as I closed it and I felt a bit guilty. They hadn't technically done anything wrong; I could've easily just said hello to them.

I glanced at my record on the shelf. The note was still there, and it was very much real. I read it over again; the same familiar scrawlym but artistic, handwriting, the old paper, the scent of stale cigarettes from the room it was probably left laying in for a while while he scribbled and scrawled and tried wording it properly. I let out a breathy laugh at funny memories like that.

I heard a small knock on my door, but on turning around I noticed Mickey was already in the room. I smiled pathetically at him.

"I hate phonies like you." I winked, motioning for him to enter the room. "Who enter and then knock I mean. Sit here." I said, patting the floor next to me, hiding the note behind my back. He plonked himself down next to me and folded his arms around his knees.

"So, what's up?" He said. He'd clearly noticed from my behaviour recently.

"Nothing, y'know. I guess I decided to call it off with Pete." I said, fiddling with the floor.

"If I know me Rita, she never lets a lad get her down like this." He said.

"Well, you obviously don't know this Rita then." I said, knowing full well I WAS upset about a lad... Just not one from this decade.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Look, Rita. Just let it all out. You can trust me, it's Mickey!" He said, doing a stupid ass smile with a thumbs up. I did that sarcastic over the shoulder look at him, but ended up laughing. I looked down at the record sleeve lying on the floor in front of me and fiddled with it, thinking of what to say. "Is it something to do with this?" He said, pointing to the record.

I looked up at him, almost shooting him a death glare. I realised then that Mickey was my closest friend, and if he didn't believe me then noone would, and I'd be best off going back anyway. I sighed.

"Okay. You're never going to believe this. I was with Paul McCartney for those days I was gone." I said, getting onto my knees in front of him. His face cocked to the side, and crumpled up. I realised what he thought I meant.

"NO! No, for Chrissake, a million times no!" I said, waving my hands in his face in protest to old Macca. He was young looking for his age, sure, but I still wasn't into 70 year olds that looked like they were 50.

"Thank God! I thought to myself 'what the fuck' for a minute, but... So explain?" He said, scratching his head confusedly. I didn't blame him.

"Look, I collapsed after my date with Pete on that corner near that old street, and when I woke up I was in 1966 and I went back to the NEMS store, and I walked into Macca's car and he came along and started talking to me, I explained where I'd come from because my clothes were odd to him, and he brought me home and looked after me. I was safe always. There was never a dull moment. I met all the Beatles. And, y'know..." I said, not sure what else to add. Mickey's eyes widened.

"You slept with a Beatle?!" He said, putting a hand over his mouth. He was easily led. It was true though.

"I guess so, yeah. A few times. And I plan to a few more if I can get back." His face dropped a little at that comment, realising I'd have to leave. I changed subject. "The weird thing is, Pete delivered this package, which I didn't think would be for me. Turned out it was, and it was backlogged from the Sixties to ME, from then, and it's the original recording of Lovely Rita, which Paul wrote about ME. I heard him perform it live, and hung out with the band." I started tangenting, before getting back on track. "Just read this." I said, thrusting the hidden note in his face. He scanned it with his eyes, chuckling at the last bit.

"The stamp. They haven't sent these ones out since the Sixties. You're telling the truth..." Mickey said, looking at the packaging and all. "And what's the futuristic prostitute part?" I laughed at him.

"Roleplay. Just kidding! He told me I dressed like a prostitute, but I told him it's how we all dress nowadays. He liked it though." I said, winking at Mickey. He laughed.

"Wow... I mean, this is incredible. What are you going to do?" Mickey asked curiously.

"I think I'm going to go back. I'm not sure what will happen if I do go back, or where I'll end up in time as it was a pretty random year with no relation to 2012, but I'm going to try. I don't think I can continue living without Paul. I was an empty, emotional wreck when I left him. When I felt myself fading from him and coming back here, it was like some massive hole had been ripped out of me. I want my missing piece back." I said, looking up to Mickey expectantly. "Would you help me?" I said cutely.

"Wow, if you really feel strongly about The Macca then sure. This is incredible! You're a lucky girl. What do I need to do?" He said.

"Knock me out." I said, and with that, his astounded expression became a shocked expression. I nodded at him to finalise my point, before getting up and gathering things. I was going home. I was going back to where I belonged.