The Girl Who Became a Beatle

by Greg Taylor

  And I didn’t want them to be there!

  So I said firmly, stubbornly, “Yes, Abernathy. I know what I’m going to do.”

  “OK.” Abernathy smiled and nodded. End of discussion. He stood up and started down the steps. He was almost to the bottom of the aisle when I called out, “Abernathy?” He turned slowly and looked up at me. “Let’s just say, hypothetically speaking, that I did decide to go back. Which I’m not! What do I do? Send you an e-mail?”

  Abernathy took a little time before he shook his head no.

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “So what, then?”

  “You have to figure that out yourself.”

  “What? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “Remember, Regina, one of the things your wish come true can be is a game. You don’t help someone finish a game, do you? They have to finish it themselves.” I must have looked a bit annoyed at his answer, because Abernathy followed that up with “I’ll give you a hint.” Like a seasoned entertainer, Abernathy paused for just the right amount of time, then said, “Believe in yourself.”

  You might think I was disappointed hearing Abernathy feed me such a cliché. Believe in yourself. How many times have you heard that? But coming from Abernathy, it was as though I heard it for the first time. There was a primal power to it.

  Believe …

  in …

  yourself.

  I frowned, thinking about those three words. Why did Abernathy tell me that? What kind of hint was it? Suddenly, the air seemed to go out of the amphitheater. It was a similar sensation to the one that preceded my jump to the Beatles concert, actually. And just like that …

  Abernathy was gone. I studied the immediate area with a frown. I looked all around the Bowl. No Abernathy in sight. I stood up, went down the steps, and walked along the gently curving aisle and exited the Bowl the same way I had come in.

  Still no sign of my Fairy Godfather. But I had seen the limo from my higher-up ramp’s vantage point. That made me feel better. I didn’t think Abernathy would just leave like that.

  But when I got to the Hummer, Abernathy wasn’t in the driver’s seat. I opened the back door and peered into the dark interior. No one there. I looked around at the empty parking lot, suddenly feeling like I was the lone figure in the center of a still-life landscape.

  The wind had started up again. The trees were once again singing their mysterious, whispering song. The moon was lower in the sky, and it had gotten very cold. I shivered and got into the Hummer to warm myself up. Fortunately, the keys were in the ignition. I turned on the engine and studied the dash to find the HEAT button.

  There was a screen in the center of the dash for a GPS system. I was looking for the heater when the screen suddenly turned itself on. Instead of a map to some unknown destination, however, there was a message. It read:

  Sorry, Regina, but I had to go. An emergency in the superhero wish world. I know you’ll do the right thing.

  Love, Abernathy

  Superhero wish world? What a wacky universe Abernathy was in charge of! That kind of responsibility would make a person plenty busy, but still … Abernathy had left me. What did he expect, I should drive myself back to the hotel? All I had was a Cinderella license!

  Believe in yourself.

  I’m pretty sure Abernathy sent me that thought. It felt like it, anyway, like the time he helped me over the hump at the T.J. concert.

  OK. Right. Believe in myself. Got it. This was a little test, that’s all. Another part of Abernathy’s game. This could be fun. Driving a mile-long Hummer through the streets of L.A. at five thirty in the morning. I can do this. I sat and stared at all of the dials and gadgets in front of me. It was like being in the cockpit of an airplane.

  One step at a time. That’s how you get somewhere. At least that’s what I told myself as I tried to figure out what to do to get my white behemoth going. I’d already turned on the ignition. Now I put the gear in reverse and released the brake.

  Oh, boy, here we go.

  29

  Luckily, it was early in the morning. I didn’t have a ton of traffic to deal with. But before even getting to the streets, it took me forever to turn the Hummer around in the huge, empty parking lot. I felt like Austin Powers trying to turn that electric car around in the hallway. Bigger vehicle. Same concept.

  When I finally got the metal monstrosity pointed in the right direction, I drove slowly out of the deserted lot. (Strangely, the security guard was absent from his post.)

  OK. So far, so good. But then, when I turned from the driveway onto Highland Avenue …

  SCREEEEEEEEECH!!!

  That was the Hummer trading paint with a traffic-light pole. I almost lost control of the wheel at that point.

  It’s OK, Regina. Just a little sideswiping moment. Everything’s cool. You can do this!

  I managed to steady her out and continued down Highland, even though I was in hyper-breathing mode. Fortunately, Highland’s a pretty straight street, so I didn’t have any further traffic violation incidents. At least, until I had to turn onto Sunset.

  CRAAAAAASSH!!!

  Trash can! The kind that’s bolted to the sidewalk. My heart jumped into my throat when that happened. My god, I thought. What if the police stop me? How will I explain this to them? Wait, what’s that sound? That screeching sound?

  I was leaning over the steering wheel at that point, my entire body in spasm, my hands clutching the wheel so hard that my knuckles had turned white.

  Ohmygod. The trash can’s caught under the car!

  And it was. The ripped-from-its-foundation can was being dragged under the limo’s frame.

  SCREEEEEEEEEEEECCH!!!

  I was so mortified that I wished a hole would open up right there on Sunset and swallow me and the limo whole. I didn’t think that would happen, so I drove slow as a snail down beginning-to-get-busy Sunset as the metal trash can continued its nails-against-a-blackboard screeching on the asphalt street. An atonal symphony that drew quizzical, annoyed stares from the few people who were out at this hour.

  When the Sheraton finally came into view, I laughed out loud. Maybe it was all the tension and stress being released. Maybe the absurdity of driving a Hummer limo down Sunset Boulevard at six in the morning finally revealed itself to me. Whichever, that one short laugh built steadily into a laughing jag by the time I got to the hotel.

  I found it hilarious when I bounced jauntily over the curb after misjudging the entrance to the circular driveway. I thought it was hysterical when I parked in front of the entrance, staggered out from behind the driver’s seat, and saw the twisted remains of the trash can wedged next to the rear tire.

  The astonished concierge must have thought I was totally gone when I handed him the key to the Hummer, by then trading mirthful giggles with hacking coughs.

  WHEW!

  When the elevator doors opened on my floor, I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead in an exaggerated way that said, Glad’s that’s over! My evening out had left me feeling like a drunk.

  The Beatles concert. (Incredible!)

  Meeting my Fairy Godfather. (Surrrrr-prise!)

  The drive home. (Slapstick time!)

  I walked on unsteady legs down the hall to my room. It took me several tries to get the card into the slot to open the door. I was so out of it, I was cross-eyed.

  When I finally got into my room, all I wanted to do was fall onto my bed and conk out. But I didn’t. A thin shaft of light was blazing on the curtain that covered the balcony door. In the time that it had taken me to go into the hotel, come up the elevator, and get to my room, sunrise had happened.

  I opened the curtain. Dust particles danced in the laserlike beam of light that burst happily into the room. I slid open the door and went out onto the balcony.

  Wow.

  It was beautiful. A brilliant, red half circle of sun was peeking over the distant eastern horizon. It smelled like sunrise. A fresh new scent was in the
air. I smiled and leaned on the railing. Was this great or what?

  This … was the beginning of a new day. The beginning of the day. The beginning of the first day of the rest of my life! (You get the idea.) I felt tired and goofy and glad to be alive. As I watched the sun gradually reveal itself in all its full-circle glory, it dawned on me that I’d just pulled an all-nighter (except for the little bit of time when I dreamed my Saturday Night at the Movies dream).

  When was the last time I’d done that? Without much effort, my last dusk till dawn came to me. It was shortly after I had formed the Caverns. We had practiced all night down in my basement. We played electric until Dad told us to shut it down, then we went acoustic.

  What a blast that had been. We were full of spunk and high promise and were gonna take on the world. And when the sun came up, Julian drove us to evil McDonald’s, and we had egg McMuffins and coffee and all kinds of food that was bad for you. That was the night I fell in love with Julian.

  Julian …

  I thought about Julian for a while as I stood on the balcony, and the street below came more and more to life. I thought about Julian’s song. His really, really good song. That stirred something in me. But I was way too tired to deal with another mysterious what-is-it? kind of feeling. (I’d had a lot of those lately.) Besides, one thing I discovered that morning standing on the Sheraton balcony is that sunrises quickly lose their happy-face, ain’t-this-special, aren’t-you-glad-to-be-alive feel-ing. And what’s left in place of that feeling is exhaustion.

  So I went back inside, took off my clothes, and collapsed into bed. As I snuggled under the covers, I began a lullaby-like mantra.

  Which Grammy will I win first?

  Which Grammy will I win first?

  I figured the mantra would prevent any doubts from creep-ing in and spoiling my sleep or my decision to stay in L.A. to officially begin my great new famous life.

  Still, like a kid who’s had a riddle dangled in front of her, I couldn’t help but wonder … what did Abernathy’s parting hint mean?

  Believe in yourself.

  Which Grammy will I win first?

  Believe in yourself.

  Which Grammy will I win first?

  Believe in yourself.

  Those two sentences duked it out in my head, threatening to keep me up for some time. But they didn’t. Before I knew it, I …

  (Asleep.)

  30

  A circle of figures above me. Conspiratorial whispers. What felt like a dream wasn’t. As I woke, the people around me slowly came into focus.

  Trey and Mom and Dad. All with concerned expressions. I smiled at them and stretched slowly, languorously, I believe is the word. “Morning,” I greeted them, my voice sounding thick and heavy, like it had come out in slow motion. I felt groggy, but good, like I had just woken from a sleep cure or something.

  “It’s not morning,” Trey scolded. “It’s two in the afternoon! You have to be at the Shrine in two hours!”

  “And I will be,” I assured him, totally unconcerned, then rolled over onto my stomach.

  “Regina, what is wrong with you?” That was Mom.

  “Nothing, Mother,” I mumbled into the pillow. “Everything is absolutely first-rate.”

  “We have to get her up,” Trey said sternly, up above me somewhere in the clouds. I felt myself being picked up and put on my feet. Dad balanced me on one side, Trey on the other.

  “Really, Regina,” Dad said softly. “How do you feel?”

  “Really good, Dad. I do. Don’t worry ’bout a thing. Just leave me be, and I’ll get ready for my big day. Or night, rather.”

  Everyone looked pretty skeptical about my ability to get myself ready. It didn’t help matters when I gave them all a big, goofy grin and fell back onto the bed.

  “That does it!” Trey said in disgust. “I’m calling a doctor.”

  “Unnecessary,” I insisted. “I will be ready as rain in two hours to go to the Shrine Auditorium.” Then I began to sing, “If the rain comes, they run and hide their heads…”

  “She must have taken something,” Trey whispered to Dad.

  “I’m right here, Trey,” I called out to him. “I can hear you. And, no, I didn’t take anything. Now go. Please!”

  Trey stared down at me for a moment. “Stay with her, Laura,” he commanded my mother. “If she’s still acting like this in fifteen minutes, call me.”

  “You should salute Master Trey, Mom. What he says, goes. After all, he gets all the new acts that come to town. Don’t you, Trey?”

  I’m not sure why I said that. Maybe because Trey was getting on my nerves. But in that instant, Trey knew that I knew. His eyes narrowed like a cat’s, and he drilled me with a glare. “Don’t forget, Regina. This is a big day for you.”

  “I know. Don’t you worry your little pocketbook about that.” There was a tense face-off between me and Trey, then he pointed to a clothes bag that hung over a nearby chair. “I brought you some decent clothes to wear to the Grammys. Pick something out. It’s time to stop wearing T-shirts and tutus and little-girl clothes. You’re a young woman now. Start dressing like it.” Trey spun around and walked out of the room.

  “I do not like that guy,” Dad said.

  “Well, I do,” Mom countered. “Why were you baiting him like that, Regina?”

  “He was getting on my nerves. Besides, I wanted to spend a little quality time with my mom and dad.”

  My comment made Mom shift uncomfortably and ease slightly away from Dad. Which did not go unnoticed by my father. “I need to go see how Julian and Danny are doing,” Dad said. “See you soon.”

  After Dad left, Mom crossed her arms and looked at me with a frown. “What’s going on with you? You’re acting very strange.”

  It was a valid question. Why was I acting all goofy and drunk-like and saying exactly what was on my mind? That wasn’t at all like me. “I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe if I wasn’t acting like this, I’d totally collapse in hysteria and nervousness.”

  That answer seemed to appease Mom. As it turned out, it was right on the mark, which I would soon discover. I sat up in bed, suddenly serious, and started to trace a figure eight pattern on the bedcover. “By the way, Mom. Dad and I had a nice talk yesterday.”

  “What about?” Mom immediately tensed in a defensive pose.

  “He said he wasn’t going to try to stop me from buying a house here and living with you.”

  “Why did he say that?” Mom’s reply was sharp and suspicious.

  “ ’Cause he thinks I’ll be happier here. And he said he wants to make peace with you. So he’ll be welcome when he comes to visit.” Mom was silent. “I want you to be nice to him, Mom. I want things to change.”

  Mom visibly bristled. “Just because you’re big stuff now doesn’t mean you can order me around.”

  “It’s not an order. It’s a necessary request. I mean, why does it have to be like this? Why do you and Dad act like you’re enemies or something? It feels so terrible.”

  Anything you want it to be …

  At that moment in my journey, I wanted it to be about reconciliation. Between Mom and Dad. Without warning, I started to cry. It surprised me, that bubbling up of emotion from somewhere deep inside me, from that mysterious place where feelings reside. Mom immediately shed her defensive and suspicious posturing. She sat next to me on the bed and held me.

  “This isn’t just about me and you, Mom,” I managed to get out between my sniffling and quick intakes of breath. “It isn’t just about us getting together after all these years and acting like two sisters or something. Dad’s part of this, too, you know. Whether you like it or not.”

  “It’s OK,” Mom said, rocking me slightly as she held me around the shoulders. “It’s gonna be OK.”

  I actually believed her. Not in a happily-ever-after kind of way, like Mom and Dad getting back together and remarrying or anything like that. I had hoped and prayed for that for quite a while after they had separated, but a
t some point, it dawned on me that wasn’t going to happen. But as I sat with Mom on the bed, in her arms, I did feel like things could change between her and Dad. That they could be more like friends. And that I had the power to make things change.

  That was it!

  That was the answer, I realized with a jolt. All these years I’d been waiting for Dad or Mom to make the move. To start behaving more civil, more friendly, toward each other. They were the adults, after all. But suddenly, I knew it was me. I had to make the move. For all of us.

  I had the power.

  Ironic that I had that revelation the same moment I was blubbering like a baby. But after my little breakdown, I felt calmer and kind of cleaned out and satisfied, sort of like how it feels after one of those summer storms blow in suddenly, rattle the windows, then is gone before you know it.

  Predictably, Mom looked self-conscious holding me after I stopped crying and had blown my nose loudly right next to her ear. She really is not the most affectionate person in the world. But I can’t hold that against her. She gave me a little smile and slid off the bed.

  “Well,” she said, smoothing out her too-short-for-her-age skirt. “You be OK? Can I go get ready for the big night?”

  “Of course.”

  “Trey said you were supposed to have your hair done at one. It’s past two, so that ain’t gonna happen. Need any help?”

  “No, that’s OK.”

  “Sure?”

  “Positive, Mom.”

  Mom gave me a wave as she headed for the door. “I’ll see you at the Grammys, then.”

  “Why don’t you ride with us in the limo?” I asked.

  Mom thought about that, then said, “OK. I think I will.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.” Mom smiled, then was gone.

  I sighed and looked around the room after Mom left. Everything was the same but looked different somehow. I guess because I felt different. Not a hundred percent different. Not even fifty percent. Just a little different. Sometimes that’s all you need, I guess.

  I looked at the digital clock by the bed. In less than three hours, I would be on the stage at the Shrine Auditorium. My journey, my wish come true, was almost at its end.