What If

Chapter 49

I kept myself hidden and isolated most of the weekend. I was feeling like rubbish and wanted to sleep it off in addition to avoiding running into anyone from school out on the streets. My mother was also becoming increasingly worried. This was the second time I was just lying in bed, refusing to do a single thing. I'm sure she was ready to call a doctor. Or a psych ward.

It was the middle of Sunday by the time I finally got enough courage to step into the outdoors. I decided that I had had enough of feeling sorry for myself and needed some fresh air. So I got dressed in a nice white sweater and black leggings, threw a green coat over my shoulders, wrapped a tan scarf around my neck, and slipped on some black high-top boots. Feigning confidence – in hopes I could fool myself into thinking it was real – I walked downstairs, slid past my mother in the kitchen, and went right out the front door, not caring whether she heard me or not.

I practically strutted down the sidewalk, not having an exact destination. I figured on just exploring the town some more. The only true city-roaming I had done since coming here was that day I spent with Paul. I should get to know where I live and where the Beatles had lived. This was truly a less than once in a lifetime experience and I wanted to learn as much as I could.

It was the sunniest day I had seen yet. Almost all of the snow was totally melted except in a couple scattered piles where it was mounded up. It was one of the warmer winter days and there was barely any wind. Good weather was a good sign.

People passed me on the street, not paying me any mind. I felt like I could finally breathe again and come back to my senses.

Hmm, what to do, I thought to myself. I then remembered that this was a rundown city that was a long ways away from being built up from the Beatles fame. Not to mention it was still winter on top of that. Huh, I guess there's really not that much to do. I paused my walking to think about where on Earth I should go.

I began moving my feet toward the Casbah Club. At the very least I could listen to some awesome music and maybe dance, right? Sounded like a perfect chill-day to me, which was exactly what I needed.

The air smelled crisp and fresh, almost burning my nose with its natural cleanliness. I didn't pass anyone I knew; no one from school: no teachers, no students. I guess they all decided to stay inside today, not that I was complaining.

"Hey, Colleen!" a voice called out to me.

I was startled out of my thoughts and turned to see Cynthia, having just walked by me and not having noticed her. She was in a similar outfit to me, all bundled up with a hat, scarf, and coat to combat the mildly irritating wind that dared disturb us.

"Oh, hey, Cynthia," I greeted, plastering a smile on my face. "I'm so sorry; I didn't see you. I was lost in my train of thought." Almost triggered by our meeting, the wind began to pick up, blowing a little faster and harder with each second.

"That's okay," she said, coming closer to me so we could have a more intimate conversation. "I just saw you out of the corner of my eye myself."

"What're you doing here?" I asked. "Don't you live all the way in Blackpool?"

She shrugged. "I have a lot of friends here. Tends to happen when you spend all of your time with John." Ahhhh, I thought to myself, nodding my head. "I was visiting one here, but she had an emergency all of a sudden and couldn't hang around anymore. Are you busy right now? I was gonna head back to the train station, but the next train to Blackpool doesn't leave for another few hours."

Cynthia, you may have just saved the day, I thought. "No, I'm not busy," I responded with a genuine smile. "I was actually kind of looking for something to do. I was at a loss for a little while."

"That's great! We could go get some lunch and chat. I haven't seen you since the party. And I don't think either of us were in the clearest of minds when we left."

"You can say that again . . . or five more times," I agreed. "Lunch sounds really nice. I am hungry."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me along against the direction I had been walking this entire time. "Come on, I know a cute little place that serves sandwiches and tea."

Without waiting for my answer, she dragged me down the sidewalk, following the direction of the wind. My hair was starting to be ripped free from my scarf and blew sporadically in front of my face, making it nearly impossible to see.

Well, I guess this is happening, I said to myself, half-serious and half-laughing about it. I felt like a blind pedestrian being guided by nothing more than the tug of my service dog. Of course, I don't mean Cynthia was a dog; only that I had to put my complete trust in her as she led me around obstacles because I was too busy spitting hair out of my mouth and flapping it out of my eyes only to have it smacked right back by the wind. Rinse and repeat.

Finally, I managed to tuck my hair back into my scarf and pulled it tight around my neck, almost to the point of suffocation, just to be sure that no more hair would get in my face before we got to the café. I could almost feel my hairbrush breaking already from the knots this mess this was going to cause me. But I didn't feel bad about it. I almost wanted to laugh about that too.

Wow, what has gotten into me? Maybe Paul's words from the day before we're finally starting to kick in. Maybe he's right. I can't control what the world thinks of me. I can't stop them from making assumptions about every little thing I do. But I know the truth myself. Am I going to let others stop me from being happy because, for whatever reason, it gives them life? Hell. No.