The Encounter

By Jenni Samp

The wind whipped my hair across my face as I stood on the balcony of my family’s apartment in New York City. It felt cool against my face, which was hot and blotchy, and my eyes were red and puffy from crying. I blinked, and another tear fell down my cheek. I felt so stupid for crying.

The past month had been the worst month of my life. School was almost unbearable. Oh, how I loathed the eighth grade! I was over-committed and stressed out with work, and I was having a lot of trouble with many friendships that I’d always thought would last forever.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, not even close. Today was October 9th, 2001. 'John Lennon’s birthday.' I thought. 'He would’ve been sixty-one today. I should be celebrating, not crying like a baby.'

I gazed out, off into the distance, scanning the New York City skyline. It had changed so much in the past month. My eyes lingered on the empty area of sky where the World Trade Center once stood. I was very fortunate to have not lost any loved ones in the terrorist attacks of September 11. My Uncle Rick had worked in the World Trade Center--the only reason he was alive now was because he was late to work on that horrible Tuesday. Since I knew Uncle Rick worked there, I walked home from school on September 11 convinced that my favorite uncle was dead. I didn’t think I would ever feel such relief again as that which I felt when my uncle called us, telling us he was okay. I had so much to be thankful for--I was luckier than most. One girl in my grade lost her father.

Another tear slipped down my cheek. I know what you’re thinking; what’s so wrong with crying at a time like this? We’ve all shed our share of tears over the September 11 terrorist attacks. Well, that’s not was I was crying about. I was crying because I couldn't afford a ticket to the benefit concert that Paul McCartney was leading later in the month. I was missing out on a huge chance to see Paul McCartney and many other rock stars I loved, including James Taylor and Mick Jagger. And I had gotten my hopes up way too high. The tickets went on sale the day before, and that morning I found out that the ticket prices were incredibly high, way out of my price range. I’d cried for three hours straight, and now I still burst into tears whenever I thought about it.

Now you see why I felt stupid, not to mention selfish. There were so many people that had lost everything in the last month, and I was blubbering over a concert! But I couldn't help it. I idolized Paul McCartney, and the idea of seeing him in concert was just so exciting! But I was not coping with my disappointment very well…

I sighed in frustration, wiping my teary eyes and rubbing my face. I needed to take a walk. My mom would be home soon, and I couldn't let her see me like this. I had a very close relationship with my mother, but I knew it worried her to see me so upset over something as trivial as a concert, and the last thing I wanted to do was get her concerned.

Taking one last look at the empty patch of sky, I walked off the balcony and back indoors. Pulling on a sweater and scribbling a quick note to my mom telling her where I’d gone, I headed out of the apartment. Once outside, I began walking in the direction of my favorite crying spot--a small neighborhood park.

A gust of wind made me shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging myself for warmth, wishing I had put on a coat over my sweater. As I walked, I felt my face cooling down, and my jaw, which had been clenched from trying to hold back tears, relax.

When I reached the park, I sat down on a bench underneath a beautiful tree with leaves that had turned a reddish-yellow color. I picked up a leaf and started fiddling with it in my hands. It was such a pretty color. It was a bright gold, but it was as if the tips of the leaf had been dipped in red paint. I picked up another leaf and held it up next to the first one. This leaf was mostly red, with some blotches of brilliant yellow. Each leaf was unique. I had never really looked at leaves that way before, at least not since I had taken a hopelessly boring course on them in science class the year before. Amazing how such a simple and small thing as a leaf could be so beautiful.

Looking up, I took in my surroundings. I hadn't been to the park in a while, and looking at it now, with the trees' foliage seemingly at their peak, it was like I was looking at it for the first time. The mixture of red, orange and yellow leaves on the trees was absolutely stunning. The small pavement path that lead through the park was one I had often biked on in the summer; now it was covered in golden-colored leaves. I was alone except for one other person, an older man walking down the path towards my bench.

I sighed heavily. From looking at the park, you'd never have been able to tell what the rest of America was going through. Everything was so peaceful, like it was a place where you could come to forget all your troubles. With that, though, I remembered why it was that I had come here in the first place. I felt the tears rushing back to my eyes.

'No, no, don't cry, don't cry!'  I clenched my jaw again, blinking furiously, trying in vain to hold back the tears. I drew in one long, shuddering breath before finally breaking down, covering my face with my hands.

I don't know how long I sat there, sobbing there on the bench, but I soon heard someone sit down next to me. I quickly wiped my eyes and turned to see who it was. It was the man I had seen earlier. He looked to be about sixty or so. I couldn't see his hair color, or if he had any hair on the top of his head at all, because most of it was stuffed under a Yankees baseball cap, but I assumed it was gray, the same color as his mustache. He was dressed casually, in blue jeans and a fleece. The feature that stood out the most, however, were his big, round brown eyes. I swore recognized him from somewhere, but I couldn't put my finger on it. And more importantly, I hoped he hadn't noticed me crying.

"What's the matter, luv?" he asked me kindly. Well, so much for him not knowing that I was crying. But I couldn't help noticing that he had a lovely British accent, almost Liverpudlian. And he talked like a Beatle. 'Cute. He must be a fan, I guess. But I could swear I know him from somewhere! Who is this guy?'

"Nothing's wrong!" I told him, a bit louder than I'd intended, trying to sound like I hadn't just been crying my eyes out.

"Really? I don't think it's nothing. People don't often cry over nothing," the stranger said with a twinkle in his eye. 'Where do I know him from?' I thought again.

"Okay, so it's not nothing." I admitted, rubbing my forehead.

"So, you wanna tell me?" he pushed.

"Well, it's stupid…" I started, unsure if I wanted to confide in this total stranger I had met just moments ago.

"It's alright, luv, I won't laugh," he said softly. Something about this man made me want to trust him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I felt like I'd met him before, or maybe it was just because I wanted some one to talk to. But for whatever reason it was, I found myself wanting to tell him everything.

"You promise?" I asked timidly, probably sounding like a five-year-old.

The man chuckled. "I promise," he said.

"Okay, well to sum it all up in a few sentences, there's this big concert later this month with Paul McCartney in it. And I really want to go, but I can't afford a ticket…" I paused, looking for some kind of response. He said nothing, but I thought I saw a knowing smile tug at his lips. So I continued. "I was so disappointed that I cried all night, and here I am now, still crying like a baby over some concert, when there so many people in this city right now that have lost so much. I should be thankful! Instead I'm here crying over what I don't have! I feel like such a selfish little bitch!"

Surprised at myself for talking like that in front of someone so much older than I was, I looked over to see the man's reaction to my words. I couldn't read his expression.

"Er…sorry, luv, I'm afraid I can't really relate to that…" He spoke slowly and fumbled with his words, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing.

I nodded sullenly. "I told you it was stupid."

"Not stupid," he said "just not something a fifty-nine year old man can relate to."  'Ahah, so I was close in guessing his age!'

"How old are you, luv?" he asked me. "You look to be about fifteen."

"Fourteen, actually." I said, suddenly feeling very young and naïve compared to this man who I now knew was fifty-nine.

"Fourteen…that's the same age I was when…" he said quietly, trailing off. He had a faraway yet pained look in his eyes. Those big, brown ones that I knew I recognized from somewhere.  I didn't know where I had heard it, but I heard somewhere that people's eyes are the windows to their soul. You can tell what people are feeling by looking in their eyes. And right now this man's eyes told me that he was recalling something painful from his past. Something unbearably painful.

"The same age you were when…what?" I asked softly, trying not to sound nosy.

"When…when me mum died…from cancer…" he said, his voice quavering.

"Oh…I'm so sorry…" I said awkwardly. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was shocked at this unexpectedly personal bit of information. I couldn't imagine losing my mom at my age. I loved her so much, I couldn't imagine life without her, always there for me. I really was more fortunate than most.

"No, it's alright luv, ya didn't know…anyway, that was years ago," he said, pain evident in his voice.

"I can tell it still hurts you…" I said in almost a whisper, not certain if he would hear me at all. Turned out he did.

"Yeah…she was a wonderful person…" His voice trailed off again. "Ya know, I'm sorry ya couldn't get tickets to your concert, luv. I wish there was somethin' I could do,” he said, changing the subject. I didn't question it.

"Thanks…you know, I think…I think that if I can't show my appreciation for Paul McCartney by going to his concert, I wish I could at least thank him for everything he's doing…" I paused when I saw that knowing smile tug at the man's lips, and then continued. "He's doing such a wonderful thing by doing this concert to help out the firefighters' families. I guess it really does touch me…and he's not even American!"  I couldn't believe I had just said all that to a man that I met only about 10 minutes before.

He smiled at me. "I bet Paul'd love it if he heard ya say that."

"Mm-hmm…" I murmured. "Thank you, Paul…" I whispered to no one in particular.

"You're welcome, luv," said the stranger. I looked up at him in surprise as he stood up, peeling off the gray mustache. In a split second I realized who he was, before he even took off the Yankees cap. I swear my heart stopped beating, and my breath just…stopped. I was in a state of shock; I felt like I had suddenly plunged into ice-cold water.

After a few moments that seemed like hours, I remembered that it is necessary for humans to breathe in order to survive, and I managed to take a deep breath.

"P-Paul….Paul McCartney?" I managed to choke out after finding my voice again.

"The one and only!" Paul said, flashing me an adorable grin.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I'm actually talking to you! I never ever thought I would ever meet you! But I here I am, talking to you! Oh, I knew I recognized you, I just couldn't put my finger on it, and--" I stopped short. 'Great, I'm babbling! Now what's Paul going to think of that?'   "Sorry…" I said sheepishly.

"Ya know," Paul said, sitting down next to me on the bench again. "I'm still the same ol' guy you were talking to a few minutes ago…" He glanced at me sideways.

I grinned, still feeling a bit foolish. "Yeah…but it does make things a little different…Hey, now I get why you were holding back a smile whenever I mentioned your name!" I said, laughing at the irony of the situation.

Paul laughed with me, glancing at his watch. "Well, luv, what I said before was true. I really do wish there was somethin' I could do…I'd get ya a ticket, but they're all already gone, as you can imagine…" he said sympathetically, standing up. "But I would love to meet ya here again tomorrow," he said hopefully.

"Definitely!" I said, grinning. 'Oh my God, here I am, with Paul McCartney, and he wants to see me again!!'

"Wonderful! Ta, luv. For the talk…for listening…you are a sweet bird, ya know." Paul said before turning to walk down the pavement path that led out of the park. "And one more thing…" he added, turning back to me. "I never did learn your name…"

"It's Jenni…Jenni with an i." I told him.

He chuckled. "Well then, see ya soon, Jenni with an i." He turned and began to walk down the path again.

"Oh, and Paul?" he turned to face me once again.

"Yes, luv?"

"Thanks."

Paul smiled and winked at me before placing the Yankees cap back on his head and stuffing the fake mustache into his jeans pocket. I watched as he leisurely strolled down the path and out of the park until he was out of sight.

I must've looked like a complete fool, sitting there after Paul left, alone on the park bench, grinning like an idiot. But at that moment, I felt like the luckiest girl on Earth, tickets or no tickets. This just added one huge thing to my list of things to be thankful for. I could just imagine what my journal entry that night was going to look like. "Dear Diary, I made a new friend today! The famous rock star Paul McCartney!" Wow, I was still having a hard time believing it myself. My new friend, Paul McCartney.

'Wait. My friends. Oh yeah. Now what was I going to say to them? Some of them I haven't spoken to in days! Am I just gonna go up to them and say "Hey guys, guess what? I met Paul McCartney in the park yesterday and now we're pals!'  Yep. They'd be sure to believe that one.

But them I thought of something. Paul had been in a disguise, right? So that obviously meant he didn't want to be recognized. I could see why not. He'd never be able to get rid of all the people wanting to meet him.

I decided I'd keep it to myself, seeing that no one would believe me even if I did tell them. If Paul wanted to tell people, that was fine with me, but for now, my lips were sealed.

My idiotic grin widened, until I was sure I looked as foolish as I ever possibly could. I couldn't wait till tomorrow, I sure as hell would be back in the park the next day! I'd be there as soon as I could after school ended.

I made my way out of the park, feeling a whole lot better and more relaxed than when I came, with one thought running through my mind.

'I truly am the luckiest girl on Earth!'

Copyright 2001, Jenni Samp

About the Author

Jenni Samp is a junior high school student in a suburban town in Massachusetts. She lives at home with her mom, dad and brother. She is a writer for the school newspaper, and in her spare time reads and writes (Beatles) fan fiction. Her other interests outside of writing include horseback riding, skating, and playing the piano, guitar, trumpet, saxophone and drums.
 

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