Her hair was pulled off her face in a simple ponytail. She wore a light blue sheath of a night dress that hung in the wrong shape off her sticky body. She suddenly felt very alone. She didn’t know it then but the feeling would return to her many times in her life and feel even more suffocating then it did now.
She sat up and reached over to click her bed side light on. She reached for the phone. She dialed the country codes and a phone number. Her clock read ten in the evening. It was nearly three in the morning in England. She nearly hung up, not wanting anyone to be disturbed this early in the morning because she was an idiot and for got about the time change.
“Hullo”
His voice sent reverberations through her head. She felt warm and safe and happy and didn’t even realize she’d been missing all these things. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. George said hello again. It paralyzed her again.
“Georgie?” she squeaked out. Feeling small.
Pause. “Gabs?”
“Yeah”
Another pause. He made a strangled sound “So why haven’t you bloody been bothered to call us then?”
She giggled “Sorry” pause “Do you forgive me”
”Of course, Gab. Don’t be daft”
“It’s so wonderful to hear yer voice” she told him sincerely “So… so…. So, nice”
George chuckled low in his throat. Every word he spoke was like having him hold her. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and pretended he was standing next to her.
“What time is it?” he asked
“Ten” she replied drowsily
“And you’re tired at ten?” he asked incredibly “Christ what have they got you doing?”
“Loads of drugs” she mumbled “And lots of essays on Chairman Mao”
“Sounds fun”
“It really is”
George sighed “So are you just going to call me and then fall asleep on me?”
“No” she yawned, “Sorry”
“It’s ok” she could hear him smiling. If that was possible. “Are you in bed?”
“Yes, where are you?” she closed her eyes and pictured George in her head.
“On the settee. I’ve just got in, didn’t want the phone to wake anyone. I’m rather tired to you know. We just got off playing a show in the fucking dingle. They nearly killed us!”
“Hmmm” she sighed
“You remember Brian? He’s our manager now. And he’s getting us a *load* of gigs. Wants us to go back to Hamburg for a while. We’re not complaining. And sometime next year we’ll be going down to London to record a few demos. Brian says Decca looks like the best shot we have. He’s been down talking to a bunch of important record executives. Can you imagine Gab? Us? Making a record? Well… I guess they have to like us first. Or maybe … are you listening? Gab?”
“Mm hmm” she hummed softly, she slid down into the pillows, holding the phone to her ear and sighing. Sleep and George. Two of the most wonderful things. Ever. “Keep talking. Your voice is lovely”
“Is it?”
“Yes”
“Ok” he laughed “If you keep me talking, I might just fall asleep on the settee. Would the phones hang up? Or would they stay on…”
“I’d like that” she said breathily “You in my ear all night”
He hesitated for a long moment and then giggled “You say it like some kind of sex thing”
“What”
“I want you” he giggled “All night long”
“I didn’t say that”
“I don’t care. It’s still funny.”
“You’re daft”
“I know. You are not the only one who fucken thinks so, neither”
Her eyes fluttered shut. George took a deep breath on the other end of the phone and kept on talking about the Beatles and Brian. And Paul Who wrote three perfectly good songs that seemed to be a bit depressing. They played them only several times and then Paul demanded they never be played again because they were suddenly “shite” in his eyes. Where they about her? He didn’t know.
George played with the edge of his white tee shirt. Curling and uncurling the hem. One jean clad leg was thrown over the back of his chair and one was propped up on pillows. His body curled up on the cushiony bit of the couch and he cradled the phone next to his face as he talked. He felt drowsy too.
Gabrielle soon felt sleep drag her down to its depths and she fell off to the land of nod. George heard her breathing even out over the line.
He listened to her for a good half an hour.
His eyes became drowsy too. Listening to someone breathe. In out, in out. Hoping it would never stop. Why. It wasn’t like she was going to cut out for some reason. His eyes started to shut. A cloud of sleep descended on him. Gabrielle mumbled something about no toast. She was there. Nearly. With him. In his arms. Sleeping. His. Beautiful.
That was all that mattered. Her.
******************
AN: Cheesy i know. So what. My cheesyness will just get worse. Like drowining in a vat of Veelveta. Hmnnn...
