Unfortunately, nobody was home. It took an hour or so to get back
from out in the country. Nobody said a word on the way back to the house.
George was too cold to talk. Paul was too busy concentrating on the slick
road. Ringo was too afraid someone might snap at him again. And John was
just plain confused by it all. He sat quietly in the passengers' seat,
trying to sort this Paul-and-Julie-and-George-and-Ellen-and-the-mysteries-of-the-universe-sort-of-thing
mess out.
As they made their way back, George finally spoke. "Can we stop
off at Ellen's?" he asked.
"Why?" the other three asked at once.
"She hurt you," Paul said.
"Don't give in to her so easy," John backed up.
"Let's keep on going," Ringo finished.
"Aw, come on," George said. "I need to talk to her."
Paul just kept on driving. George folded his arms and pouted.
"Consider this a favor," John said as they got to the house.
George just sighed.
It wasn't that much fun in the house anymore. Paul and George
mostly sat around and moped while John and Ringo were off in their own
worlds. Ringo was especially heartbroken because Mr. Mousie had caught
cold and he spent all his time cradling it in his arms, feeding it and
talking softly. George wished he could go outside again but everyone told
him to stay in. He had already caught the sniffles, would he like to try
for a monster cold? George retorted by saying he'd be more careful in bundling
up. But nothing. Nobody gave in. George seemed to be their prisoner. And
he didn't like it one bit. Every time he mentioned Ellen, at least one
of them gave George the "look".
Around ten o'clock the next night, George sat straight up in
bed and smacked his fist into his palm. He was sick and tired of being
oppressed. And he was going to do something totally stupid to protest his
oppression. George crept stealthily over to his dresser- very stealthily,
since all four shared a room and any of the three could wake up and catch
him- went into the bathroom, got dressed, snuck over to the hall closet
and carefully put on his coat, hat, and all that good stuff. Silently opening
the door and remembering to take a key with him, George crept out into
the snowy wonderland.
The light from the street lamps gave an orange glow to the freezing
ice and snow around them. All was completely silent except for the crunching
of his boots on snow or the click- slip, click- slip of them on ice. George
had his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and was staring straight ahead.
He knew where he was going. And he didn't care if he woke her up.
Finally, George arrived at the lavender boarding house. He looked
up at the bedroom on the second story that was encased in itself, like
a tower. Ellen's room. There was no light except for a flickering candle
next to the bed. George squinted hard and saw that she was reading. The
poor girl obviously couldn't sleep. George didn't want to make a sound,
for fear he'd wake Mrs. Applebee. Mrs. Applebee, the crotchety old lady
who ran the house, had a strict law about no guys in the house after ten
unless previously authorized by her. So all George could really do was
just stand there and hope Ellen noticed soon. He was freezing.
But Ellen didn't notice. She was either lost in her book or had
fallen asleep sitting up. George knew what to do. He began to trample out
a design in the front yard. It was very simple- just a heart and his initials
to signify he had been there. George jumped from the yard to the sidewalk,
thinking it would be okay because he didn't want to mess up his designs.
However, the sidewalk was icy. George slipped and fell hard on his bottom.
The noiseless commotion apparently snapped Ellen out of it. She
went to the window and saw George trying to get up. He kept slipping until
he saw her. Then George stood straight up. Ellen smiled- she had seen the
front yard. From far away, she could still see into his eyes. They were
the same. Nothing had changed. Of course! He wasn't scared of her.
Ellen ran down the stairs and threw open the front door. Forgetting
all about her bare feet, she ran across the snow and stopped a few feet
from him. Looking down, she saw that George's early valentine was ruined.
"Sorry about that," she said.
"'S okay," George replied with a shrug. "It looked terrible anyway."
Ellen laughed, nervous. "You know that it's past ten."
"I wasn't planning on going in," George said. "Just wanted to
come down here."
"And...why is that?" Ellen asked.
George shrugged again. "I just...wanted-to-see-you," he said
quickly.
But Ellen caught what he said. A smile crept across her face.
"That's sweet of you," she said. In the dim light of the street lamp, you
could still see red creeping up George's cheeks. It was either from cold
or from embarrassment.
"You know," he said, "you're just wearing your gown. You're going
to catch a cold. What, you don't even have shoes on! I made the same mistake."
George sniffled and coughed. "Now look at me."
"If it means that much to you, I guess I'll go back inside,"
Ellen said.
"We'll meet again when it's daylight and when you're dressed
warm," George said, cracking a nervous smile. "I don't want two colds to
worry about."
Ellen smiled. George smiled. They both turned and went their
separate ways.
Julie thought a lot when she was in the tub. Especially today.
Today had been a very hectic day at work so she didn't have the chance
to think about the situation. She leaned back into the bubbles and thought
about George and Paul. Her sensible side told her to go with Paul. He was
the first one there, anyway, and he wasn't nearly as nervous as George
to go on to other levels. Her compassionate side told her to go with George.
He needed someone since he had been dumped, and didn't look in the mirror
to preen every five minutes like Paul. George was ridiculously cute when
he was nervous. And Paul was ridiculously cute when he preened. Julie loved
the way Paul would do anything to make her laugh, even do something that
might make him look like a total idiot. And she loved the way George got
the most comical looks on his face for no reason at all.
All of a sudden, the phone rang. Don't you hate it when you're
in the bathtub and the phone goes off? Natasha couldn't answer the phone
for her. Julie grumbled and put on her bathrobe. She would continue her
therapy session later after she gave who was on the phone a piece of her
mind.
"Hello?" Julie asked grumpily.
"Um, hi," Paul's voice came.
"Oh! Hi," Julie said, snapping out of her grump.
"Look, Julie, I was wondering if maybe you would...uh...eh...ah...maybe
go somewhere?" Paul asked.
"Sure," Julie said.
"You catch my drift?" Paul asked. "You know what I'm trying to
ask?"
"Yeah," Julie said as if Paul should know.
"Where would you like to go?" Paul asked, twirling the phone
cord around his fingers.
"Anyplace as long as it's good," Julie replied.
"I just happen to know a lovely little bistro down the street
from the theater," Paul said, his face brightening. He gave an OK sign
to John and Ringo. "After that maybe we can take in a flick. Got anything
in particular you'd like to see?"
"The Vampire's Revenge?" Julie asked hopefully.
"Eh...okay," Paul said, kind of winding down.
"Oh, yeah, I saw that with George," Julie said casually. "He
didn't seem to enjoy it."
"I know how that movie works. I'll be there to protect you from
the evil vampire. Oooooh! And I won't faint in the process," Paul joked.
"Wait a minute..." There was a pause. "How did you know about
that?"
"I just guessed. I know George," Paul said.
"Okay," Julie said.
"Pick you up on Friday?" Paul asked.
"Yeah," Julie said.
"Bye," Paul said, a twinge of sadness in his voice.
Julie stopped him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just a little anxious to get to Friday," Paul dismissed
the thought quickly. "I'll see you then."
"All right, bye," Julie said. She hung up the phone and smiled.
The decision had been made for her.
Paul walked over to the table. "So it's like, 10:00 at night
and we're all of a sudden wide awake."
"I feel like having a party," John said.
"We can't, not right now," Ringo sat down backwards in a chair.
"When George gets back, he's going to go under the third degree,"
Paul grumbled. "I bet you anything he-"
The door opened, and in came George. He didn't notice the other
three at the table. George hung up his coat, hat, and scarf in the closet.
Turning around, he saw Paul, John, and Ringo.
"It's about time," Paul said. "Where have you been?"
"Does it matter one way or another? You've got a date with Julie
anyway. I don't think I need her." George sat down at the table with the
rest of them.
John narrowed his eyes. "The sneaky little rat went out to see
Ellen, I bet."
"I was dressed warm," George replied. "So what was there to worry
about? We barely talked for five minutes."
"A lot can happen in five minutes," Ringo said. He slurped through
his straw at the bottom of his glass. "So?"
"So what?" George asked.
"So what happened? What did she have to say?" Ringo waited.
"Nothing much. Why do you want to know?" George asked, falling
asleep.
Paul hunched over just as George began to snore. "What are the
odds of this whole mess getting straightened out by Friday?"
"Umxslim to none," John replied.
Paul gave John a stony stare. "Thanks a lot," he said sarcastically.