Risky Woohoo

4 | Sorrow

1957, February
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He was the same old Paul the next few weeks. Nothing changed.

We were on our way to the bus stop a cold February morning when I finally got the nerves to confront him about that evening.

"Paul, what happened the night mum and Jim were away?" I noticed he stiffened a little bit when I asked him.

"Nothing, really." He answered, clearly lying. I sighed, would I get anything out of him?

"Why were you so upset then? Did I do something?" He didn't answer. "I want to know." I demanded. He froze.

I stepped in front of him as he hung his head again. "Yes- no! You didn't do anything, Ann." He said quietly. "Then what is it, Paulie?"

A small whimper found it's way out of his throat. He coughed in an attempt to hide it. He slowly lifted his head, and I could see he was trying to hold something in. "Let's go, Ann. We'll be late."

I reluctantly moved out of his way and we began walking again.

We made it to the bus and stepped inside. To my surprise he sat himself beside me instead of one of his mates. The first time he had done so.

Paul scooted closer to me as the ride went on. At one point we were nearly in the same seat. In a way, it was pleasant having him so close to me. It felt right.

We separated as classes begun, and I began to miss him a little. I was so worried about him, I couldn't keep my mind on anything else. I wondered what had happened, and why he wouldn't tell me. Perhaps we weren't as close as I thought. Maybe he was just an insanely hormonal teenage boy?

When school finally came to an end, I rushed outside to look for Paul. I found him on his way the opposite direction to the bus stop.

"Paul, wait!" I ran over to him. He stopped and turned my way, a small smile stretching on his lips, but it quickly faded.

"What are you here for?" He turned away for a second. "Just going to pay mum a visit." I stepped beside him. "Oh, can I come?" He nodded quickly and we sauntered off.

We didn't turn many corners before we stood in front of a church. "Does she work here?" He didn't answer. He only turned and walked towards the graveyard close by.

It didn't take long for me to put two and two together. I followed him to the fence. He stood with his hand on the gate for a while, his breathing getting heavier. But at last he opened it and began walking down the gravel path.

I watched him bend down and touch the dirt before the stone. There wasn't much grass yet. 'Mary Mohín McCartney'.

He breathed in deeply as he stood up and rubbed the dirt off his hands. He turned to me and stepped a little closer. "I'm sorry." He said.

My eyebrows furrowed. "What, why?" He sighed and looked down at his hands. "For not telling you." He said as a tiny whimper escaped his lips.

"No- don't worry about it. You didn't have to." I took a step closer and looked him in they eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's not yer fault." He said with a crack in his voice. He rubbed his neck and unnoticed he came even nearer. We were a foot apart. I noticed a fresh tear on his cheek.

So I awkwardly engulfed him in a warm embrace. He instantly wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in the crook of my neck.

I thought maybe I was a comfort to him. As we stood there I realised, the few times I had seen him down, he instantly turned to me.

The cold seemed to wash away as we stood there in each other's arms. I began rubbing my hand gently on his back, and he only felt like holding me tighter. It wasn't so awkward after all.

"Let's go home then, ye?" I whispered. He didn't nudge, and it was as if past events were repeating themself. "Paulie." I softly spoke, and like magic, he softened again.

I broke away and held my arms around his neck. "She always called me that, y'know." He whispered and sniffed. His eyes were red and his hands were on my waist again.

I smiled, and he returned it. Then we let each other go and began walking homewards.
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"I was just so mad at him for moving on so soon, y'know?" I nodded.

The weather was unbearably cold. Them skirts they gave you were far too small and thin for February.

"It was only in October, Ann." Paul turned his head my way. His eyes were full of sorrow. I could only nod, poor boy.

"Maybe he needed an escape?" I suggested. He nodded lightly. "Y'know, someone to make it go away."

I began to wonder why Jim hadn't told us. Or maybe he had told mum, or even William, but just not me. 

"Aren't you cold, Paul?" I asked. "Ye, a little." He answered. I looked at the road ahead, there was certainly a long way home.

"Maybe we could go over to George?" I suggested. He lived close by. Paul smiled and nodded. We were off.
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"Oh, hi, Paul." George greeted him as he stood in the doorway. He shifted his eyes over to me. "Hello, Ann." He grinned.

"Hiya, George. Can we come in please? It's freezing." Paul said as shivers ran through his body. The younger nodded and lead us up to his room.

As we sat down on the floor, George noticed the redness in our eyes. His eyebrows furrowed and turned his gaze between us. "What's the matter?"

I looked at Paul. He looked away and cleared his throat, folding his hands between his legs.

"No- I-it's just cold." He raised his head and looked at George. He nodded and stood up. "Would you like a cuppa?" We nodded and he sauntered through the door.

I turned to Paul. He had his focus on his hands. "D-Do you want me to stop calling you that?" I asked. He froze a bit and shook his head.

"No, I-I like it. I-I-It's actually quite... comforting, you could say. It's just that... well, y'know." And I did.

We sat in silence. The window looked to be frozen shut, with flakes of ice all over. That was what Paul was focused on.

The door creaked open, and my eyes broke away from Paul's wondering gaze. George stepped through the door and sat himself slowly on the hardwood floor. He reached a cup of tea my way, which I happily received.

He turned to Paul and gave him a glass of milk. My face scrunched up in confusion, which was replied to by George's smirk that said "ye, he does that". He lifted the glass to his lips and drank it all down in a split second. His frown stretched to a smile of delight, highlighting the milk-moustache which had appeared on his upper lip.

I giggled. George snickered. Paul put his glass down and licked the remaining goodness. "I never thought it would go this far." The youngest spoke as his gaze fell to my cup. I brought it upwards and took a sip. I raised my eyebrow, signalling him to continue.

"I never thought he'd replace tea with his bleeding milk!" Paul laughed. "It's the best thing nature has to offer." I nodded and took another sip. "Agreed." I muttered. They looked at me. I shrugged. "I remember." Paul said. Our eyes met and he smirked.
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The afternoon was met by snowfall, so we stayed a little longer than intended.

It was similar to the last time we'd been there. Or rather when I had been his companion. They played the guitar most of the time, and I received my own glass of milk. Digestives were brought up to the room, and his mother Louise insisted we stayed for supper.  

But the evening was spent shivering down the streets of Liddypool. In only a few hours the snow had fallen thicc. The wind blew harshly and cool, making it only worse.

My teeth started to clap silently together, and as I was about to pull the coat tighter around myself, I felt an arm snake its way over my shoulders. I looked up to see Paul smiling at me, but his eyes spoke of common misery.

"I would give you my coat, but y'know-" He paused to lick his lips. "-thought I'd need it m'self." I grinned and put my arm around his waist. We stumbled in each others arms the rest of the way home.

When we stepped through the door, we were instantly greeted by supper. By the time night had fallen upon us, we were far to full to do anything else but go to bed.
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poor boi