Again, But Better(16)

We rush across, hands unlinked. When the light changes on the next corner, we jog across and up onto the sidewalk outside the Beatles store.

“Wow!” I stare at the beautiful, brightly colored window display. “It’s Beatlesful,” I pronounce. I turn to Pilot wearing a giant idiot smile.

He smothers a grin and shakes his head. “I have no words for that.”

“Did you get it?”

“Oh, I got it,” he says.

“That was clever.”

He shakes his head, smile still smooshed.

“Come on. It was clever!”

“Let it be, Shane. Let it be.” He heads into the shop.

I stand on the sidewalk for a second, processing. “Oh my.” I follow him in.

“Love Me Do” plays inside the store. We’ve stepped into a Beatles wonderland: CDs, vinyls, sweatshirts, hats, socks, key chains. I know Pilot likes the Beatles. He keeps a chill front, but I can see it in his eyes. They’re all alight and eager as he inspects the trinkets. I squat down to get a better look at what appears to be a set of Beatles-themed Russian nesting dolls in a glass display case. Pilot squats next to me. His side brushes up against mine.

“Oh, man, look at the sizes! John is the biggest, Ringo’s the smallest. The shade.”

I turn away from the dolls to look at him. “Look who knows who the Beatles are.” For just a second, he smiles like a goof, then it’s back to cool-guy grin. When we stand up, he starts pointing out different vinyls that he owns as we walk through the displays.

“Shane,” Pilot calls from behind me as we wander down another aisle. “Beatles cards!”

I whip around, leaping over to where he is. “What?”

“Beatles playing cards, Shane. Target acquired. Mission accomplished.”



* * *



We walk back through the park as the sun ducks below the horizon.

“What’s your favorite Beatles song?” Pilot asks.

“What’s your favorite Beatles song?” I throw back.

“Shot, you answer first,” he says calmly.

“What do you mean, shot, you answer first? You can’t shot that I answer first!” I laugh.

“Uh, first rule of shotting, you can shot whatever you want to shot,” he responds with his voice all goofy.

I comply, trying to roll my eyes sarcastically and failing. “My favorite is ‘Hey Jude,’ I think, or ‘Yellow Submarine,’ or ‘Hello, Goodbye.’ Or, or … ‘Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da,’ I love that one!”

He closes his eyes and nods with a closed-mouth smile. “Nice picks, nice picks.”

A pack of runners whoosh past us on the trail. “Now you share yours,” I say expectantly.

“‘Helter Skelter,’ probably, or ‘I Am the Walrus,’ or ‘Octopus’s Garden,’ or ‘Eleanor Rigby’—they’ve got so many great ones.”

“How dare you have mocked me for saying I like the Beatles!”

He shrugs. “You look more like a Taylor Swift kind of girl.”

“Um, excuse me,” I protest, “I am a Taylor Swift kind of girl, thank you very much. She’s marvelous.” I take a second to glare and dramatically toss my hair over my shoulder. “Music snob.”

He throws his head back with a laugh. Warm fuzzies bubble up inside me. I don’t know the science behind warm fuzzies and how they bubble, but they do.





7. Never Mind



I find Babe sitting on her bed, watching an animated movie on her computer. She looks up as the door closes behind me. Out the creeper window, I see Sahra on the couch in the kitchen, talking to her laptop.

“Hey!” Babe exclaims.

“Hey! Whatchya watching?”

“Ratatouille!” She’s smiling ear to ear.

“Never saw that one.”

“You never saw Ratatouille? It’s so cute!”

I drag a chair up to Babe’s bed, so we can properly chat. “Did you know that Pilot has an album on iTunes?”

“What? I didn’t even know he made music!” She minimizes Ratatouille and pulls iTunes up on her computer. I scoot over so I can look on.

“Is it under his name?” She starts typing in Pilot Penn.

“No, it’s under Swing Bearers.”

“Swing Bearers!” She giggles. “Ah! I love it.” She types it into the search box and taps the enter key. We watch in suspense as the internet loads. An album called Porcelain Trampoline pops up, purchasable for $6.99.

“Oh my gosh, it’s real!” I laugh.

“Seven bucks? Heck yes!” Babe clicks the buy button.

We spend the next hour listening to the Swing Bearers while we sit on our computers. I like it. It has a relaxed, jazzy, vintage feel. When it comes time to get ready for the pub, I switch the music selection over to Britney Spears. Sahra comes back to the room, and we all get a little more dressed up. I change into my favorite skirt—a black high-waisted one with buttons—and a crop top with a blue-eyed tiger on it. Nothing too fancy, but more so than the jeans and blue New York T-shirt I was wearing on my walk with Pilot earlier.



* * *



The five of us sit around a circular table in the Queen’s Head pub. I’m halfway through my first legal ordered-at-a-bar alcoholic drink: a glass of red wine. I dislike wine less than I dislike any other alcohol, so in the spirit of trying new things, I’ve decided to give it a chance. People say wine is an acquired taste, so I’m working on acquiring it.