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Chapter 2 : Rebecca The Second
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REBECCA THE SECOND
It was the winter of despair and I seemed to live under the dark shroud of mourning. The Smiths had disbanded and the end of an era dawned in a black horizon. The world promised never to be the same again. Morrissey was still recording as a solo artist but it didn’t matter. The magic was gone and the world was deprived of its greatest musical maestros since the ever-catchy Rick Astley.
Of course, Bill didn’t care. He was still well into his Weird Sisters phase, closing his ears to wide spectrum of Muggle music that he refused to sample. Unlike him, I was still connected to the real world. A world we shared with Muggles and a world where Muggle radio existed.
Everything was crumbling and as far as I was concerned, the world was over.
Then I met her.
She had looked like a cross between an angel and Yoko Ono. She had long, black hair the color of licorice. She had dark brown eyes that made the earth seem pale in comparison. She had the face of a china doll.
She was Rebecca Huynh.
And I was in love.
We stood next in line to each other at the record store. Both in line to sample Morrissey’s first album after the band’s demise. I’d heard good things about it. People said it would be a celebration of his own unique style; a brilliant emancipation from The Smiths that would propel him to the level of classic.
Rebecca was in front of me, but as soon as she put on the earphones, she began to curse louder than the Minister of Magic in a state meeting.
“MORRISSEY YOU BUGGER WIPE!”
The way she said it, the words sounded like most profane phrase ever uttered by man. But at the same time, it sounded like the anthem of a generation lost and betrayed by the light they hoped would never go out.
She began to yell what seemed to be curses in Vietnamese and had to be escorted out of the premises for scaring the other customers. I followed her out and found her sitting with her back against the wall, smoking a cigarette as if it were the only act keeping her sane.
I sat beside her and, without knowing who I was, let her put her head on my shoulder as she cried the tears I couldn’t.
Maybe she’d noticed my ratty t-shirt that said, "Andy – you have left The Smiths. Goodbye and good luck, Morrissey.” Or maybe she just didn’t care anymore, but I sensed that she shared my feelings. The happiness that came with finding a kindred soul.
Rebecca was a Muggle so when I introduced her to my parents, a lot of things had to be hidden in the cupboards and we had to send the Percy and the twins to Aunt Muriel’s for the afternoon. But I’d never seen my mum so happy. Or maybe happy enough to see me bring a girl home. As for Dad, he was almost as fascinated with her as I was, although for completely different reasons. He studied her more like a lab rat. Pen and paper in hand and jotting notes quicker than his brain could process.
In front of my family, Rebecca was the best girl you could ever wish for. But when we were alone, she was even better.
She introduced me to Electronic – Johnny Marr’s new band, we shared a love of non-conformity, a hatred of enclosed footwear and a child-like obsession with the slinky.
When Rebecca kissed me, it felt like raindrops and when I kissed her, it felt like summer. When I told her I was magical in more ways than one, she didn’t think I was God’s mistake.
“You were more unique than I thought,” she smiled.
We made love for the first time as Girlfriend In A Coma played in the background and were lulled to sleep by Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now.
I loved her and was sure she was going to be Mrs. Rebecca Weasley one day. We’d have children who would listen to the Smiths from the womb and eat chocolate frogs dipped in nacho cheese.
But then the day came when an owl dropped a letter on my lap.
I’d been accepted as a Dragon Keeper in Romania. They were expecting me to move out there within a month.
We danced around it for a few weeks. And when we finally talked about it, the matter was simple. She couldn’t afford to transfer schools. I couldn’t afford to turn down the job. She would not move to Romania. I would not stay in England. She didn’t want a long distance relationship. I didn’t want to be a commuter boyfriend. We loved each other. But it could not work.
Non-conformists until the end.
She didn’t say anything. She just took me to the record store where we’d first met and played a record saying it all.
I Know Its Over.
A few days latter, a man gave me an old, moldy shoe. The next thing I knew I was in Romania.
Regret ate at my heart like a worm through a rip apple. What if I wasn’t so stubborn? What if I’d stayed instead? What if I wasn’t stupid enough to leave the most amazing person (I was sure) I’d ever meet in my life?
I’d chosen a job over Rebecca Hyunh.
I was broken-hearted and knew I would never to love again.
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