“Come to yer senses, lass,” he said to me. “He luvs ya. Really luvs.”

I turned back to see him again – that wandering spirit that was always watching over me. Lately he had been silent, but he just wouldn’t miss the chance to turn my life upside down when I was in trouble.

What I wouldn’t wish for an ordinary guardian angel! But no, I was stuck with him – and he wasn’t even an angel, or so he informed me.  A Scouse speaker, weirdly dressed, with those funny eyes, that long hair and that mean temper. He was good to me, even nice, most of the time. But he drove me insane when he thought he was right and I was wrong, and he wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave in to his ideas – usually by screaming or throwing things aimlessly at him.

That night, I was in trouble. My boyfriend and I had had this terrible argument, and I’d left him, fuming and wondering whether we’d still have a relationship after all those bitter words we yelled at each other. I was alone at my house, hating him and hating myself for life, and then he came around. My wandering spirit.  He entered the room without being asked, sat on the carpet in front of my sofa without asking a word of permission. He was like that.

“He’s just mad, he won’ give in. He’s jealous, but he luvs ya. Give ‘im a secon’ chance,” he told me

“No way in hell.” I replied. “And you can scream away like Yoko Ono for all I care, I’m not forgiving him”.

“Oy, leave Yoko alone!”

“Caught you off guard, didn’t I?”

“Did not!”

“Aw, just leave me alone.” I turned onto my side on the sofa. He pushed me back to face him.

“Ya listen to me. Jus’ listen. I oughta know what a man is like. He’s just jealous. Bet he’s regrettin’ all he said to ya right now. Eatin’ himself alive.”

“Would he?”

“Oh aye. ‘Cos, ya know, he really fancies ya. Whatever love should be, that’s what he feels for ya. An’ all he said, was just the spur o’ th’ moment, like they say”.

“Spur of the moment, all right!” I snapped. “Like he didn’t mean anything he said! Like he didn’t want to hurt me like he did!”

“Did not.” he replied, serious and stubborn as always.

“Then how come he doesn’t say he’s sorry? Why do I have to crawl back to him? I’m not the one who’s wrong, he is. I didn’t have a jealousy attack and hurt his feelings, he did. So why should I crawl to him? Doesn’t that sound unfair to you?”

He grew silent, strangely silent. Sat in front of me, those wire glasses on the verge of falling on the ground. He seemed to be thinking.

“Hey, are you all right?” I asked, when the silence stretched on for five long minutes.

“I was thinkin’,” he said. “You’re right.”

“Took me a lifetime to hear those words from you.” I chuckled.

“Took me a lifetime to think about it,” he said, with subtle pain in his voice.

“So what do you think I should do?”

“Nuthin’. Leave that to me”

“But...”

“I know what I’m doin’,” he said, disappearing from the room as quickly as he had entered – and I could do nothing to stop him. So I just sat back and waited, until I drifted to sleep.

When I was a child, he used to lull me to sleep with his singing. Sometimes I can still feel him around, watching over me as I drift off. I don’t know why he does it, but I thanked him anyway for doing it. I had a very lonely, secluded life before my boyfriend came along, and before that, I had only my spirit friend to help me.

Next day, my boyfriend was there at my doorstep with a bunch of roses, a small card in his hand. I just took it from him, unsure of what to do.

“Read it,” he said, ashamed.

I took the card in my hands, and there it said:

I didn’t mean to hurt you
I’m sorry that I made you cry
I never wanted to hurt you...I’m just a jealous guy.

“I don’t know what I was doing. I guess I was just mad,” my boyfriend said. “So, will you take me back? Please?”

“How come you remembered this song?” I smiled.

“Someone whispered it to me.”  He smiled back. 

Anna Carolina Fagundes was born in Săo Paulo, Brazil in January 1981,
and has been writing Beatles-related fiction since 1997. Nowadays she's a journalist in her home country, planning to get a Masters Degree in Journalism abroad (probably England). She is also a songwriter, and is part of a rock duo called The Liverpool Affair with her fiance.

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