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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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The ferry rocked its way toward Liverpool. This time instead of holding my hand, John wrapped his arms around my shoulder and held me close. It was wonderful. I felt protected from the rough wind of the River Mersey.

When we got off the boat and were walking on the prom, John suddenly grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into an alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the boardwalk. He kissed me so passionately, he left me breathless.

After that good long smooch, John whispered in my ear. “Stu’s gone on holiday,” he said. “And I have the key to his room.”

All my little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I wanted to melt right there in the middle of the alley way.

“Do you want to go?” he asked.

I nodded rapidly. “Yes. Yes, please. Big yes. Let’s go. Right now.”

He took me by the hand, and we ran off toward the shared house where Stu had his room. My heart was pounding so hard, I could have popped and passed out right there and then. After all that romantic time on the sand dunes and the fun fair. I was ready for this. More than ready.

We swept into the house and past Stu’s roommates so fast they probably thought there was a heard of escaped lions outside. We tore into the hallway and John opened the door to Stu’s room so hard that it hit the wall with a bang.

“Get over here!”

He swung me into the room, sweeping me literally off my feet. The door hadn’t even closed all the way before John was viciously necking me. Yes, finally, alone! No Mimi. No Thorne.

Wait.

John undid my top button and started to kiss past my collar bone right on top of the little IND speck. I gasped and shoved him off.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

I slapped my hand over my camera. “I need to use the restroom!” I squealed.

John blinked in confusion. “It’s outside, down the hall,” he said. “Are you alright? Are you sick?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just have to… take care of something.”

John laughed at me and sat on Stu’s mattress. “Everyone shits, Em. I’d really rather you do it sooner than later.”

“No, stop that! Don’t imagine that,” I said. “Keep thinking of me in a sexy way. Sexy thoughts, please.”

 “You don’t have a thing to worry about with that, Em. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since I was fourteen years old.” He stuck one of his Woodbines in his mouth and lit it.

“Good! I’ll be right back.” I slipped out the door. “Sexy thoughts!” I added before I shut it all the way.

I found the bathroom and locked myself inside.

“Camera override. Off.” I whispered as quietly as possible. Sorry, Thorne. Paul McCartney was just going to have to wait. And I really didn’t need this recorded for all Historians for all time. If I wanted to make a sex tape with John Lennon, I probably would have just done one virtually.

After I was sure my IND had terminated the camera, I slipped back down the hall and into Stu’s bedroom where John was waiting for me on the bed.

“Everything come out all right?” He asked with a big mocking grin on his face.

“Shut up,” I said pushing him onto the mattress and starting things up again.

Kissing. Undressing. Fingertips. Contact. Passion. All the tension we had hoarded for this one moment together … And then I felt that distinct buzzing hiccup from my IND. No way.

“That wasn’t fifteen minutes,” I said out loud.

“What?” John asked all breathy and confused. My IND buzzed again. It wasn’t a fluke. Thorne was tracking me. He was coming.

I slipped from under John and groaned, rubbing my face with both my hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, gently tugging on me. “Don’t go. Don’t be frightened. We can take things slower. I’m sorry—”

“It’s not you,” I said angrily throwing my legs off the bed. “It’s someone else.”

John sat up straight, staring at me as I put my clothes back on. “Someone else…” he repeated in a cold tone.

I pulled on one of my gritty sand-filled shoes. “No, not like that. It’s my work study thingy.”

“Work study again? What do you mean?” he asked. I grimaced. That excuse was wearing out, but I was too shaken and annoyed to think of anything else.

“I forgot that I have this problem. Well, not really forgot exactly, I just thought I could have one little ounce of grace for this kind of situation, but I guess not.” I picked up my other shoe and violently jammed it on my foot.

John watched me quietly. Probably more confused than disappointed. I wasn’t sure. It was hard to read him when he was quiet because he was hardly ever quiet.

“John, I’m sorry,” I said, slipping my arms into my sweater.

“That’s alright,” he said in that little quiet voice that was hard to read. “I can walk with you to the bus and we can go to the college together.”

“Uh…” He couldn’t come with me to the college. Because there was no work study at the college. “That’s alright. I’ll— I’ll say goodbye to you at the bus,” I said around the lump in my throat.

Frustrated. So frustrated that I could punch a hole in the drywall, reach through and strangle Thorne. What was he thinking buzzing me and tracking me like that? Hello! I was in the middle of something!

I imagined how I was going to yell at him, the next time I saw him. He thought I was the one compromising the mission? Ha! Every time I made a huge stride with Lennon in that department, he had a way to ruin it. He likes you? Tell him you like Paul. He loves you? Well too bad, I’ll force you to leave him.

I grumbled as I headed out of the house with a quiet John. Holding in my tears to spill on the bus ride to nowhere.

Then I saw Thorne, standing outside the building as if he were waiting for me. We caught eyes and as we passed, I gave him a dirty look. A super dirty look so he would know just how peeved I was at the situation. I couldn’t yell at him with John there, but I could yell at him with my eyes.

He called to me. “Emmeline.”

John pivoted on his heel and saw him. Thorne crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“It’s time to go, Emmeline,” he said.

My jaw dropped. What in the world was he thinking? Ripping me away right in front of John’s face? Why would he do this?

John looked from me to Thorne and then back again. “Em, who is this?”

“It’s nobody,” I said through clenched teeth. “Just someone from my work study. He doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

But Thorne hadn’t had enough of harassing me and ruining things yet. “You’re not leaving with him. You’re leaving with me. Right now.”

John’s eyes flashed and narrowed. “Piss off, you old man! Who do you think you are talking to Em like that? This isn’t just any girl, this is my girl. And she came with me.”

“Fine.” Thorne said, hardly giving Lennon his ice-cold gaze. “But she’s leaving with me.”

John turned me around by my arm. “Em? Who is this scabby looking troll, ay?”

I was shaking inside. I was so angry that he would show up and talk to John. Especially after all the constant berating about obeying the rules exactly. He was a walking example of a hypocrite and I hated him. I actually hated him.

“Emmeline, come with me now, or I’ll consider the mission compromised,” he said.

I could not believe the words I was hearing. Not only was he talking face to face with John, but now he was talking about the mission?

“You know what will happen if you don’t come with me, don’t you?” he asked, with a stern face.

“Whose fault is that?” I snapped back. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Em, what’s going on?” John pleaded with me.

I looked him in the eye, every inch of me wanting to drown into a big batch of tears. Everything had been so perfect until this moment. And now, how would I ever explain this to him? How could you explain something like this? You couldn’t.

Thorne had had enough. “If you don’t come with me now. I’ll end it right here.”

 Painful reality was sinking in. I had accepted a mission, with a partner who was hell bent on ruining it no matter how well I did. And I had fallen for a boy that I was going to have to murder.

“I’m so sorry,” I said to John, my voice tight and wavery. I left him and walked to Thorne. John stood on the pavement shocked, his hands clenching the opening of his jacket. His shoulders shrank underneath, like a lost little boy.

“Em,” he said quietly and confused.

A tear ran from the corner of my eye and slipped down the side of my nose. I got into the car.

“She doesn’t like you,” Thorne suddenly announced to John. “She’s having an affair with your bandmate, Paul McCartney.”

The color drained from John’s face. “What?” he asked with a small, hoarse voice.

“It’s important that you know that,” Thorne said swinging the driver’s door open wide.

John looked at me and wow, that look. That weak and trembling look will always be a haunting nightmare. Thorne got in the driver’s side and slammed the door shut.

As we drove away, I saw Lennon standing outside the building still clenching the front of his jacket and staring at our car. More tears ran down my cheeks.

“Why did you do that?” I blew up. “Why would you do that? Introducing yourself as a subject? How dare you do something of that magnitude after yelling at me for everything that I did? And for what? What am I going to tell John now, hmm? How am I possibly going to salvage this?”

“You left me no choice,” Thorne said, his voice equally as angry. “I gave you specific instructions and you deliberately ignored me. You’re only encouraging Lennon and I can’t have you compromising the mission in that way.”

“ME compromise the mission?” I asked jabbing at my chest. “When I wanted to save Julia’s life, you said no. And now you’re the one changing things around and doing whatever you feel like and whatever is going to mess things up between John and I.”

Thorne pursed his lips together as he kept his eyes to the road.

“Admit it, Thorne,” I said. “Just admit it. You didn’t give a single rat’s ass what happened with John. Because you were planning to kill him at the end of the hundred days.”

“That’s not the case,” he said, now yelling. “I am trying to help you have a successful mission despite every little twist and turn and way that you manage to screw things up. So excuse me for doing my job. And keeping this mission on track.”

“Oh, you’ve derailed the mission, bud,” I said with a little guttural laugh. “It is way derailed now. Taking me away from John in the middle of the street? What’s he going to be thinking now?”

“I wouldn’t have had to have done that, if you had told him about McCartney.”

“Alright, you know what? You don’t care about breaking up Lennon and McCartney,” I said leaning forward in my seat. “I think you were pushing for it because you wanted to see John be miserable. Just like you wanted his mom to die. And just like you can’t wait for the chance to shoot him. This isn’t about the mission. This is you and your little personal vendetta with the counterculture or rebellion or something. You hate John Lennon.”

Thorne slammed on his breaks so hard that I fell forward and bumped my shoulder into the dashboard. He whipped around to face me, his arm pulling himself forward on the steering wheel.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now,” he barked at me. “I don’t hate John Lennon. In fact, I couldn’t care about John Lennon even if I wanted to. Do you want to know what I hate? Being assigned to a demeaning little mission like this one. And I would do anything just to get on with it and get it over with. So I don’t have to spend every damn waking second sitting in my hotel room, watching a stupid little girl turning off her camera to endanger herself with a violent, unstable pop star. If you’re too attached, then that’s your problem. Grow up and execute this mission.”

And with that, he kept driving. I watched the downtown Liverpool disappear from the window and let the tears drip from my chin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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The fun fair began to numb the impending doom. I was in heaven. Not only because I was able to enjoy 1958 for basically the first time since I had been there, but being with John was all laughs and smiles. He made everything adventurous and new. And he made me laugh a lot. More than any guy from 2109.

Really. This was so much better than the dates I had back home. Meeting someone in a virtual cafe only to realize that they’re an unconvincing AI marketing bot, suggesting weirdly specific products to you. Sometimes I’d figure it out within the first few minutes and still finish out the date, because that’s how much of a lonely loser I was.

The smell of popcorn lingered everywhere we went. I went on a few archaic death trap rides with John and clung onto his arm for dear life. After he nailed a few milk bottles with a baseball, we passed a roped off cage that had attracted a small crowd of families.

“What’s over there?” I asked tugging on John’s hand.

“Oh, that’s the circus tiger on display.”

I stopped right in the middle of the walkway, nearly pulling John off his feet. “Like an actual, live, living tiger?”

“Yes, living.” John laughed. “Be a bit depressing if they put the dead ones out for all the kiddies to see.”

My eyes were as wide as they could go. “Can I please, please see it?”

“Certainly.” John gestured to the cage, obviously amused by my unsuppressed excitement.

I skipped to the cage, bowling over the kids to get as close to the mysterious cat as possible. There it was. An actual non-extinct beautiful tiger napping on his side. Sleek orange and black stripes. His huge white paws twitching as he dreamed. I teared up and tried to choke back my emotion. This was the kind of thing I had yearned of when I became an apprentice for the department of time travel.

After a good solid gawk, I noticed John hunched over a thick wooden post, scribbling on the back of the fun fair flier.

“What are you drawing?” I asked leaning to see around his arm.

“Oh no you don’t!” He dodged me and folded the flier into quarters

“Come on! Let me see it,” I said, trying to grab it from him as he held it out of my grasp.

 “No, no. You’re having far too much fun. This is a secret note. For bad days only.” He pulled on the pocket of my jacket and tucked the flier deep inside. “Next time you find yourself having a rotten day, you’ll remember, ‘Ah, yes! John’s given me a goodie! And now I can’t feel sad today because I can finally read my secret message, you see’.”

He leaned his elbows on the wooden railing, a finger pressed against his mischievous smirk and his eyes gleaming as they peered into mine.

I traced the outline of the folded pamphlet through my pocket. “I can’t—” I laughed. “I’m dying to know what this says now.”

“Patience is a virtue. As they say.”

I shot him a look, but he kept his closed grin. “Well, you should know. I’ve been having a terrible day today,” I said.

“A likely story.”

“It’s been the most awful, no-good, horrible day ever.”

“I’m sure.”

I went to poke him in the side, but he wrapped his arms around my waist and gave me such a tight squeeze that it lifted me off my feet. Where is that portal malfunction? Please let me get stuck in a time loop! Please let this day never end! How could I ever bring up Paul? How could I even mention another boy on a day like this?

Up behind the fair were hills and hills of sand dunes that stretched for miles. Once we had run around a significant amount at the fair, taking carnies for what they had, we climbed up to explore the secluded dunes. John flopped on his belly and pretended to swim through the sand, all while barking ferociously like a seal. I started an unintentional sand fight, before he knelt and suggested that we build our own Buckingham Palace.

For the first time that day things were calm and peaceful. We happily worked away, patting the dry sand into shape.

“I’m glad you came with me,” he said. “I know I’m not Stu, but I think we have a lot of fun, you know?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean you’re not Stu? Who said anything about Stu?”

John put his fist to his cheek. “I mean, it’s Stu. Mr. Talent. Mr. Everything. And me, Mr. Nothing. Mr. Nowhere. Going nowhere. Doing nothing.”

I was stunned. If only he knew the future like I did. If only he knew he would change the world in another reality. And if only he knew that poor Stu would have a deadly aneurism by age twenty-one. Crazy what we worry about in the moment, and how those things can drastically flip.

“I’m glad you’re not Stu,” I said, letting a handful of sand rain down on our palace.

“Are you really though?” he asked, biting his lip. “I mean, truthfully. Are you glad?”

“Yes. Stu is Stu. But he’s not a John Lennon. He doesn’t make me laugh. He’s not you.” I rested a fist on my chin. “And besides, what about this Cynthia girl? Are you glad I’m not her?”

“Tremendously,” he said. “Miss Prim and Proper, wanna be a nun. She would never do this kind of thing with me.”

“No, I think she would,” I said under my breath.

“Hey.” Suddenly John leaned across the palace and kissed me gently on the mouth. My whole chest lifted at his touch. I had almost forgotten how great of a kisser he was.

“What was that for?” I asked softly.

“A warning, Em. But if you do it again there’ll be bigger consequences next time.” He stuck a small stick upright into the top of our palace as if it were a flag.

“Stop that,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“That face you make,” I said, trying to imitate it myself. “With the eyebrows and the half-closed eyes and the smile. Just knock it off. It’s way too handsome.”

He laughed. “I can’t help it! It’s the face I was born with, I haven’t got another one!”

John beamed. And it twisted into my heart like a corkscrew. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be convincing him he was the only one in my life. I was supposed to be telling him that I was now falling for Paul and whatever else.

I swallowed a mouthful of guilt. It felt like a spoonful of hot ash squeezing down my throat. But I knew that Thorne was watching and waiting. Waiting for me to bring up Paul and break John’s heart into a million tiny little pieces. But if I didn’t do it, he would die. So, I absolutely did not have a choice.

“John,” I said solemnly. “I have to admit something to you.”

“Hold on,” he said, scooting closer. “I think I know what you’re going to say, but I’m going to go first…”

“Okay,” I said, eager to put off telling him.

“Em, I love you,” he said. “I love, love, love you.”

I felt a yelp rise into my mouth and get stuck at the top of my head. Oh no, no, no. What? Love? Actual love? I couldn’t believe it. I had done it. I had gotten John to love me.

“Yeah, see? Nyah!” He stuck out his tongue. “I beat you to it, didn’t I?”

I stumbled around for the words. “You love me? Like actual love? Or is it just that you really like me a lot. Like a precursor for love or something.”

“I think about you every moment I’m awake. And when I’m not awake, you’re in every dream I have so I don’t even get a break then,” he said.

“Sounds like love,” I said, my face stoned over in shock.

“I knew I was going to fall in love with you from the moment we went to Strawberry Field together. That’s when I knew I had really flipped for you,” he said. “And the pirate pig song, of course, was icing on the cake. I don’t know. There’s just something about it. About you. I feel like I was supposed to fall in love with you. Like it was my destiny or something.”

I was horribly stupefied, and I didn’t know where to begin. I knew I didn’t want to begin at ‘Hey, never mind about you, I like Paul now.’ I felt a little sick to my stomach, but there were other layers of emotions. Relief for one. I had successfully done what I came here to do. But also, relief in a different way. I didn’t know quite what it was, but there was this tension ease listening to him talk. Not the tension of the mission, but a tension I held long before that. I was loved. I was loveable. I wasn’t sure if that were ever going to be possible again. Or was in the first place. But here we are, John Lennon fell for me. I was fallable.

Tears were welling in my eyes. I covered my IND camera with my hand and silently mouthed to him, “I love you, too.”

He gave me a curious tilt of the head, but his eyes brightened at my reciprocation.

 “I’m dead terrified!” he said. “I don’t know what your family is going to think of that. Of me and everything else.”

My family? Well, yeah, my mom didn’t approve of the match but not why John probably thought. “Why are you worried about that?” I asked. “My family would love you.”

“Families don’t really love me. Parents don’t really love me,” he said with a small laugh.

“Everyone loves you,” I said returning the laugh. “What are you talking about?”

He pinched one of his eyes shut. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking about, Em, but this is me. John Winston Lennon, remember? Not even my own family likes me. No one likes me! I’m a completely unlovable loser, so you’ll just have to admit to that one.”

I scoffed so loudly it probably could be heard from the Fun Fair below. “Are you actually kidding me? John. No. You are so loved. You don’t even know how many people are obsessed with you.”

As in, no you literally don’t know. Millions and millions of people who know everything about you and all your songs. You are one of the most adored people in history.

He shook his head. “Come off it.”

“It’s true,” I said. “I have this theory that you are cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Charmed,” I said.

“Oh, charmed,” he laughed. “Well that’s alright then.”

“I’m serious,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “I really think you were charmed as a baby or something, that no matter what you did or how much of a cheeky buggar you were, everyone around you would just fawn over you. Love you to death.”

Literally.

“That is so far off from the truth,” he said. “You must have fallen from your pram a few dozen times.”

He drew his fingers over my knee and my heart did a full barrel roll. The sounds from the fair faded away, even the soft sand lost its warmth as my nerves concentrated under John’s fingers.

“What was it that you were going to tell me earlier?” he asked.

I leaned forward and gave him a weak kiss, trashing everything that Thorne had wanted me to do and ruin.

“My shoes are full of sand,” I said. “Should we head back to the ferry?”

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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

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“I want a straight answer,” Thorne swallowed his anger as he sat across from me. “Leading John away from music would get rid of The Beatles, yes or no?”

“The Beatles, yeah,” I said, curling my fingers on the edge of the hotel’s dingy bed.

“But you’re saying it’s possible that Paul could be successful without him and still bring those songs to light.”

My knee bounced wildly. “I’m saying that I don’t know.”

Thorne pursed his lips so tight the skin around them turned white. “You were the one who should have studied this subject closely. And you’re the one who drafted this proposal.”

“I know,” I said pinching my lip.

“Well, which one is the driving force behind The Beatles. John or Paul?”

“I don’t know.”

Thorne looked as if he were about to implode. He couldn’t even find the words for me as he rubbed his hand over his mouth and sighed heavily. In my heart, I knew this was the beginning of something bad. At any point he could declare that the mission was a bust. And if the mission were a bust, he would expect me to kill.

“Listen,” I said, trying to salvage things. “I know you didn’t like the idea of changing things around for Julia. But, this kind of stuff comes up, right? Maybe we could change things around for this situation?”

“We don’t have a choice,” he spat at me. The dark angry gleam in his eye sent shivers down my spine. He rubbed his bottom lip and stared at me with his death glare. “We’ll have to adjust. Make McCartney the subject. Get the proposal from him instead.”

What? I blinked, processing what he was suggesting. “He’s just a kid,” I said.

“He’s only a year and a half younger than Lennon.”

“Yeah, but he feels a lot younger,” I said. “Marriage isn’t on the table here. And I have, what? Three weeks?”

“Killing him would be the easiest,” Thorne said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “But if you’re still so intent on not shedding a single drop of blood on this mission. This could work for our advantage. If we could get Paul involved in this, use him as some sort of a triangle. We could create friction between Lennon and McCartney and break them off permanently.”

“I can’t do that! After I’ve started to make such a stride with Lennon. I mean I finally got him! I can’t ruin that! And going after Paul? John will be crushed, he’ll be…” My eyes stretched wider. “He’ll be furious! Haven’t you heard the song, I’m a Jealous Guy?  Haven’t you heard the lyrics to Run for Your Life for Galactica sakes?!”

“Then let him self-destruct and ruin his own chances for success,” Thorne said.

I shook my head slowly, regretting every inch of the moment I opened Paul’s notebook.

“I’m not sure if I can do it,” I said honestly. “This whole thing. This manipulative thing. I feel like this is worse than shooting him.”

“Since you clearly don’t understand the gravity of the situation, let me make it perfectly clear,” he said tenting his fingers. “You have two options. Option one. You trade McCartney for Lennon and you split the famous duo. Option two. You terminate both Lennon and McCartney. And you terminate Harrison and that other one they call Ringo, to ensure that not a single Beatle does anything to change this timeline. Now do you understand?” 

Killing four teenagers. That was not the mission I had agreed to. George was still a schoolboy. Ringo had nothing to do with them at this point in history. And Paul. Paul was prolific and I couldn’t deny that after seeing his songs. But how could I get him to fall in love with me after everything? I didn’t know a thing about McCartney, I had spent all my time researching John. And John…

If I said no, Thorne would kill them. It would be better for them to live a life hating me, hating each other, then not to live.

My knee had stopped bouncing, it became too heavy to even twitch. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll make Paul the new subject.”

***

That night I returned to Mendips, wishing the portal would malfunction and suck me back through. As I passed the living room, Mimi called to me. I slunk over to her. She sat in the glow of the little TV which lit her sharp nose and cheekbones.

“John was asking for you,” she said. “I said you were out, but I didn’t know where you had been.”

“Oh.” I rung my fingers together keeping in my nervous shuttering breath. Weird, that she was admitting she had a friendly conversation to John about me. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was already planting the seeds of jealousy and distrust. Which was good, right? Ugh. I wanted to cry and hide away.

“I’ll talk to John tomorrow or whenever I see him next,” I said.

Aunt Mimi gazed at the television set with a stone expression. “You know, John is a lot smarter than he puts on.”

“I know.”

She finally looked directly at me, her face half lit with the black and white glow of the TV. “He puts on airs that he’s a certain way, but he really is very intelligent. He had a story published in his school paper.”

“I thought he started the school paper,” I said.

“Hmm?”

“I thought John started his own paper during school,” I said.

Aunt Mimi blinked in the glowing light. “You know, you think you can get to know a person in a couple of months, but you really can’t. You could take years and years and never truly know a person.”

“Sure, that makes sense.” It didn’t. It was pretty out of left field, but okay.

Mimi scratched the back of her hand. “The thing with John is that he’s been hurt. The death of his mother—” Her own voice crackled, and she cleared her throat. “I don’t want to see him hurt again. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t need it.”

That one felt like a dagger through the heart. All I could do was give her a small little nod and then leave to go to my room. I pushed her words deep down inside and walked past the empty bedroom of the mouse I had in my claws.

***

I woke the next morning with a notification from Thorne on my IND.

‘Tell John about Paul. Today.’

I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. I was aching to see John, forget about the mission for point three seconds and enjoy a boy who loved me. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine how that conversation would go. ‘Hey, John, I decide I like Paul now, so awkward.’ And he would say, ‘Oh, okay. Cool. Go for it. You were dumb anyway and I’ll just focus tenfold on my music now. Thanks very much.’

I groaned and rolled my tongue out of my mouth. Then I threw my covers off and bounded for the door. I hadn’t even stepped out before I ran into John.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully. “I wanted to see you last night. Where did you go?”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, fixing my bed head and keeping an appropriate distance as per my morning breath. “Last night I was… I had to work late for my work study thing. I wanted to see you too.”

He gave a small little smile and nodded. “Alright, well look, I have a prezzie for you. So now, be a good girl and close your eyes.” He covered my eyes, and I pressed my hand over his. “No peeking now,” he said.

Finally, he let go of his hand and I opened my eyes. Half an inch from my nose was a flier with a colorful Ferris wheel. John made a big sweeping demonstration with it as if he were on a game show or something.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The fun fair in Brighton. And I want to take my girl.”

My hands curled by my cheeks. I had been dying to do something like this since I had gotten there. Explore the past, have fun, and forget about my horrible, terrible mission. John put the flier under his chin and gave me the most stretching childlike grin possible, which made my heart twang.

“I’d love to go! Thank you!”

I deserved at least one last hurrah with John. I needed it. I ran to my room and put on my best outfit that I could find. A black sweater with a pencil skirt, tight to match. Then John and I walked to catch the good old “seventy-two” that would take us to the boating dock in Downtown Liverpool.

We jumped on the ferry just before it left the dock. On board were hundreds of people all talking and chattering at once. A part of me felt jealous of the atmosphere. Hardly anyone gathered like this in 2109. Usually everyone gathered online or in cyber cafes or virtual worlds. I longed for the physical human connection of the past.

We joked nonstop with each other the entire journey. I couldn’t help noticing the way his mouth curled when he laughed. I loved it. It’s dumb, but I loved his teeth in particular. They were nearly perfect except for the way his two front teeth slightly folded in.

He reached over and held my hand as we slogged through the water, the boat rocking and churning through. There was something extra special about holding hands with John. He could be so cynical and wild, but I felt calm and secure with his warm hand on mine. I accidentally caught myself humming I Want to Hold Your Hand, which made me grin wildly and wish I could have let him in on my little joke.

As we were getting off the boat dock, swarms of people all pushed past each other, bumping, and grinding. It was impossible not to slam around into the hundreds of other people clamoring for the fun fair. John accidentally bumped into a shorter guy in front of him.

“Sorry, mate,” John said to him.

The shorter guy turned around and I almost swallowed my gum. He had large blue eyes and a recognizable bigger nose. It was Ringo Starr. The drummer John wasn’t supposed to meet.

“No need to be killing anyone now,” he said. “It’s just a fun fair.”

My stomach rolled. Ringo slipped into the crowd and I lost sight of him, but our chance run in brought the nightmare flooding back. He could be at the end of his life. And young Paul. And younger George. If I didn’t break John’s heart, it would stop beating. My hand slipped out of John’s.