'Cause I Like Him Too Much

Chapter Forty

“Hannah, why don’t you wear one of those dresses I bought for you?”

“I suggest you put a little something on your face—a little powder and lipstick so you wouldn’t look so pale. How about you also wear the necklace George got you? I’m sure he would love to see you having that thing dangling on your neck.”

“Merseyside is crowded as always and tonight, the folks will be swarming yonder. Remember, the bus you’ll be riding to get there will be the same one you’ll be riding back to get home.”

“One more thing alright, you listen to me now. You may be spending some time with George, but you cannot stay there late. No sir, I won’t allow that. I expect you to be here earlier than nine o’clock.”

  Well how could I say no? I agreed with all her terms and conditions. What important was that she allowed me to go by myself though she first insisted to come with me.  I guess she was aware how this thing meant so much to me. Seeing George, finally my prayer was answered.

  Now there I was, stepping out of the public bus to see the scene that was fully waiting for me. I got in the venue at three; two hours before the show starts, but what I saw was nearly breath-taking. Awed, I was, people in every part were surging, making it to the theatre’s main door which was too small for all the future audiences to go through. All the screaming and unintended bumping caused me to stay in my place, right on the pavement. I squeezed the bottom of my coat, feeling anxious a tad, I couldn’t imagine myself blending in with the crowd. If I ever did try to catch up and get to one of the front seats I would be stepped on or crushed for sure. Just by looking at it made me quiver and couldn’t breathe well. There must be some other way in without joining the mob.

  What will I do now? As every minute passed, the number of the people getting inside became larger and larger, and as for me, the more people enter, the less chances of me going in. If ever I’d be the last of these thousands, I could be the one sitting thirty feet away from the stage which would be a very bad thing, not only I would witness the youth with their outbursts for real, but it would seem impossible too, to reach out with George, he never had the slightest clue that I’d be there.

  This has made me depict the same picture that I encountered with John’s wife, Cynthia months ago. When we were waiting in the airport for the boys’ return from Hamburg, the band’s admirers were there as always. I should never be surprised that they knew the group more than I do. I remember how we managed to find John and the others, not necessarily waiting with the whole fleet of fans covering us. Cynthia led the two of us in the back part of the airport. I could use that now. There should be a back part of the theatre, where a back door lies, leading to the—

“Backstage!” ,  I exclaimed, thinking of it aloud. “The concert will start in two hours, there’s still time left for them to prepare.”

  I walked to and fro, looking for that certain opening. I reached the edge of the place where the theatre’s building meets another establishment. There, in the middle of the smorgasbord of garbage bins and broken pieces of wood, I saw an opened door. The twinkling light of hope came before my eyes, I sprinted to the low, concrete stairs, making my way inside.

  I found myself walking on the narrow, dimly lit corridor, surrounded by the smell of burning cigarettes. Sensing this usual whiff the boys have made me familiar with, I walked pass on the first two doors that welcome me on my way, hoping that inside of one of these portals, I might see them. I might see George. Yes. George.

  Stopping at first in order to look around, it came to my wits there were other doors that could lead to my mission or maybe could lead somewhere else. Which one of these could be their room? Should I knock on each one? Several steps away, I heard a distinct conversation between three men. Two were middle aged and one seemed to be in his early 60s and all were nicely dressed. I could tell they were the organizers of the show. An idea popped into my head but I wasn’t sure if it was a good one. Must I ask them where the four are? Would they care to tell me about it? Wouldn’t they be asking what my business here is?