Rubber Soul

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 24 (v.1) - Eleanora

Submitted: August 02, 2016

Reads: 97

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Submitted: August 02, 2016



Saying goodbye to Cooper was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I cried for hours that day. Cried, and listened to the Rubber Soul album on repeat for a couple more.

My dad eventually won full custody and I no longer had anything to worry about. My mother, as I was told, had been admitted into a mental institution. But I didn’t want to know. I would make contact with her when she was sane again. Until then, I had my dad to keep me company.

I didn’t know how much I had truly missed him until I played the last note of my “Yesterday” arrangement. Seeing him, his hair grayer and his eyes duller, brought the emotions rushing in. We hugged for quite some time, and I just think he was squeezing me tight just to make sure I was real and not some terrorizing figment of his imagination. He had then continued on to tell me that he hadn’t known of my love for the Beatles, which caused me to rant on about how wonderful they were. I was what Cooper had taught me to be; a walking, talking, Beatles’ promotional ad.

School at Elko was actually a dream compared to the nightmares back at Clifton. There was no hierarchy based off sluttiness and popularity, no self-conscious, bullying whore-bags, no creepy emo kids; just regular average people.

I even remembered some of my classmates. Mindy Hershey, who had been in my first grade class, immediately became my new best friend. Roy Drew, who was now a senior, was just as dreamy as he had been in kindergarten and Suzan Watts still picked her nose. Random people recognized me from years ago as well. The chorus teacher, who had been the chorus teacher at the elementary school eight years ago, approached me on only my third day back.

She offered me a spot in the chorus group and glee club. Apparently, she remembered my rendition of some random Britney Spears song that must’ve been pretty impressive, considering it had been a very long time since I had performed it. I still have no recollection of any of it.

But I still agreed to be a part of both. And I led us to a regional championship in Senior year, which later got me a recording contract in L.A. I’m actually getting pretty popular. I have ten thousand followers on Twitter, which should definitely count for something.

Saying goodbye to all four of those ghosts haunts me everyday. I can’t help but thinking about what they could possibly be doing right now; the possibilities are endless.

It is even more difficult keeping that secret burden of knowing about the afterlife. The emotional stress it put on me is also trying since there is no one I can talk to about it without being carted off to a mental asylum where I would spend thirty years of solitary confinement along side my mother. Gosh, I even still talk like Cooper sometimes. In that clever, rambly way. It always made me laugh. I really miss that boy.

But he was right about what he said all those years ago; I am happy. And am no longer dependent on death to feel that way. Wherever he was, I hoped he could say the same. And perhaps remember me for it.

I wonder whether, three hundred years into the future, if Cooper would still remember me. Still think of my face when he heard “In My Life”, which, may sound odd, but was the song he serenaded me with upon his departure. I have dissected each and every word of the lyrics, and found the meaning was his way of saying everything to me that he needed to say, without explicitly saying it. Instead, he sung it, and let John Lennon and Paul McCartney's lyrical genius do the rest for him.

A rainbow Beatles poster was the first decoration to brighten up the walls of my new room, which was then furnished by everything shipped cross-country from my house back in Massachusetts. I did ditch some of the furniture—I threw that uncomfortable office chair into the garbage as my first order of business—but was more than grateful to find my musical equipment was still intact, my most recent recording still stored away on my keyboard’s memory.

I continued writing songs, and I still do. Like I said, I have a recording contract now and the responsibility of producing all of my original songs. Most people would consider that hard work, but I would want nothing else.

I wrote a few songs about Cooper. I never mentioned his name or anything too specific, but the core roots of the meaning are all based on our adventure. I even wrote one about NECCO Wafers; that one, by the choice of my record producer, didn’t get put on the EP.

Some of them, are just written messages to Cooper, things that I didn’t get a chance to tell him, or was too scared to bring up. I wholeheartedly regret it now, not telling him how much he meant to me. Because he had saved me. He was the reason I, too, wasn’t a ghost.

Someday, when I’m a famous popstar—because it’s going to happen; I have a promise to keep—I hope that Cooper will be cruising through Paris or Las Vegas or wherever he is, and can hear my voice on the radio and know, just know, that he is the one I am trying to talk to, and hear the things that I never told him.

It’s my biggest mistake, my biggest regret. That I never had the courage to tell him that he was the reason I was happy now, the reason I could live free. I would never know, I suppose, if he had just assumed those things without any legitimate validation at all. He had made it very clear to me that I had had an impact on him. Maybe I just didn’t know how to put it the way he did. He did, indeed, have more experience than I do.

But, even now, I ponder over whether or not I had actually known how much he had changed me, and mattered to me.

But, you know what they say; you never know you love something until it’s gone.

© Copyright 2018 Emerson Grey. All rights reserved.


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