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#The one not calling itself Smeagol never picks a different name
mezzomercury · 5 years
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Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue: Prologue
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Heathrow Airport
May 2017
A tall, young woman arriving from New York was looking around the luggage claim in one of Heathrow’s many terminals, as if waiting for something or someone. She paced as much as she could, given she had large suitcase, a carry-on bag and a pet carrier than contained not one, but two cats inside, all on a trolley that she wheeled around. She scanned her eyes around the room, watching suitcases arrive from different parts of the world on the endless line of conveyor belts, watching their owners scramble to pick them up upon seeing them. She paused in her tracks, suddenly thinking about how her late father worked at this very same place, doing the same job as the luggage handlers that were seen all around the terminal. The young woman smiled to herself, trying to imagine her father as a youngster, with the long hair he had back then juxtaposed with the eyesore of a yellow vest that would have been part of his uniform. No matter how many times she was told about this throughout her life, she still couldn’t comprehend it. The idea of her father, who secured his place in history as a musical legend, starting off from humble beginnings at this very same airport with a blue-collar job seemed so impossible to her.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a familiar whistle across the spacious corridor, causing her to perk up and look for who the sound belonged to. Scanning the room again, she found the person she was looking for: An elderly man, somewhere in his seventies, with silver hair, an almost cartoonish moustache, and his arms covered in tattoos, was waving in her direction with a big smile plastered on his face. She ran to him and put her trolley aside before giving him a great big hug. 
“Uncle Rog!” she exclaimed, half expecting him to pick her up just as he did when she was a child, but she was now slightly taller than him and was strong enough to probably do the same with him if he permitted. 
“There you are, Eliza dear!” he replied happily, offering to assist her with her luggage trolley once they broke their hug apart, “I swear, you get more beautiful everyday.” She smiled, blushing as he interrupted before she could respond, 
“We gotta get going, I’m parked right out front, but it’s not the most legal place!” 
She giggled and followed him out of the door towards his car. Some things will never change, she thought.
After both Roger and Eliza placed all of her belongings in the trunk of the car, Eliza got in the front seat, keeping her cat carrier with her on her lap as she sat down. Once Roger sat down in the driver’s seat he hastily turned on the ignition and pulled out of his parking spot, making his way towards the city. 
“Everything went well? Flight was smooth and all?” he asked, trying to make small talk as he noticed the woman beside him fumbling with her cat carrier. 
“Yeah, well, as well as it can be coming from JFK.” she joked while checking on her two cats. 
Both of her cats were hairless, with giant marble-like eyes, leading her to name them both Gollum and Smeagol upon adopting them. Roger chuckled and followed-up, 
“Your mum will be so happy to see you. She wanted to come with me, but she’s stuck in yet another rehearsal. You know how it is.” 
She nodded in response while looking out the window, contemplating the ultimate reason for her visit.
There was a brief moment of silence before Eliza quietly asked, “So, how’s the film going?” 
She was a bit reluctant to ask this, since she was still unsure about the idea of a movie being made about her father, but she knew it would happen eventually. Her question caused Roger to grin in excitement, as he felt like he was about to start rambling, 
“It’s going splendidly, dear. They haven’t started filming yet, but we already met the cast and crew, and everything is coming together quite nicely.”
 She listened intently as he added, 
“You should meet the guy who plays Fre--I mean, your dad. He’s absolutely perfect. I could have sworn it was your old man when I saw his audition tape.” 
This caused Eliza to sigh softly and with a slight tinge of sadness behind it. Her father died when she was only five years old, but not a day went by that she didn’t miss him, or even think about him. He was her first hero, he was the reason she got into music in the first place. All the songs she wrote, all the albums she released, all the awards she won; they were all for him. Frankly, she was disturbed by the notion that someone could try to portray her father, as if they were trying to replace him and take credit for his influence. Of course, she knew whoever this guy was, he probably wasn’t intending to do any of that, but it was still very off-putting that someone could apparently be “just like Freddie Mercury,” so to speak.
As these thoughts were racing through her mind, one of Eliza’s hands found itself fiddling with the locket around her neck, a gentle reminder that her father will always be with her, both literally and figuratively, as some of his ashes were safely kept inside it. It was a secret that she kept from the world, save for her other late father Jim, who gifted it to her. Now that he was also gone, she was the sole possessor of this knowledge of where Freddie’s remains were kept, and she preferred to keep it that way. Suddenly, she was startled as Roger noticed her spacing out, and was brought back to reality with him trying to speak to her again, 
“You can come down to the film studio sometime if you’d like. I’m sure everyone would love to meet you.” 
Her stomach dropped at the idea, but she nodded and tried her best to respond. 
“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.” 
She wasn’t sure if she would actually get the courage to do so, but the invitation was still there. While trying to change the subject, she then told her pseudo-uncle, 
“I gotta get together with Rory first. I’ve just been dying to see her.” 
Roger smiled as she mentioned his daughter. Rory and Eliza were as best of friends that anyone could get, even though they were across the pond now. They were inseparable as children, being that they were the same age, and both grew up into bright and vivacious women. Eliza even served as the maid of honor at Rory’s wedding a couple years ago, as Rory swore to do when the time came for her, if it ever happened. 
“Of course, dear. She’s been talking about this all week. Won’t shut up about it, if I’m being quite honest.” Roger joked, making Eliza giggle.
As the car hit a major traffic jam before entering Central London, Eliza found herself looking out the window again. What if I made a big mistake coming here? She thought to herself. Sure, she would get to see her mother, her family, and her friends, but with that also came the pain of losing both of her fathers resurfacing as it would. London would always be her home, but that home came with just as many bad memories as there were good ones. It was the biggest reason why she left to go to school in New York, and why she had no urge to return there once she graduated. She had a comfortable and relatively quiet life, with her brownstone townhouse in Brooklyn, her two cats whom she treated like her children, and her music career that she fully immersed herself into. Of course, she would have to occasionally step into the spotlight every time she released a new album or song, but at the end of the day, she had the choice to be very private with her personal life, coming and going into the media-driven limelight whenever she chose. Would this film alone destroy all of that? I was doing so well before all of this.
Eliza thoughts back to what her father Jim, “Papa” as she called him, would say to her throughout her formative years, “Just give it a try. You’ll never know if you like it or not until you do so.” 
Oddly enough, he first coined this expression when he was trying to get her to eat brussels sprouts when she was seven, but over time it struck a chord with her in a way she never imagined, as he began to use it for all sort of things she was hesitant to try. She eventually adopted it as sort of a mantra, turning it on in her mind like a record whenever she felt in need of it. It helped her get through a lot of the bumps in the road called life, and she said it to herself almost daily after Jim passed seven years ago. The memory of his endearing Irish brogue saying that phrase was something Eliza could hear exactly as he said it all those years ago. Now, in the context of going to a studio where they were making a movie about her other father’s life, risking opening old wounds that still felt so fresh, and the possibility of her reliving things that contributed to her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, she heard it again at this moment that she probably needed it the most. Just give it a try. You’ll never know if you like it or not until you do so.
She took a deep breath in as Roger pulled the car in front of her mother’s flat in the elegant neighborhood of Knightsbridge, mustering up the courage to face what would become a very interesting period of time head-on. Alright, I’ll give it a go. I’ll do this for you, Daddy and Papa. I love you now and always.
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