This was getting ridiculous. I let him call me; I obliged his stupid little conversation for more than two hours. I listened to his pretty little anecdotes and pretended to be interested and still he wasn’t friggin’ satisfied.

I tapped my foot impatiently as I gave myself a once over in the mirror of the elevator. I looked okay. I had finished my shift and had discarded my black vest. I was wearing a white button down shirt that I’d already untucked. I hadn’t even realized how unprofessional I looked until I was on my way up to his room. I ran my fingers through my straightened brown hair and made sure my make up looked okay. I heard the ding of the lift alerting me to the fact that I had arrived on his floor.

I stepped out and took a deep breath. A feeling of nervousness overtook me. I couldn’t figure out why. I took the three towels under my arm and made my way to his door. I was annoyed mostly because I’d clocked off five minutes earlier and could have been on my way home. But oh no, everyone has to drop their shit for Michael friggin’ Jackson.

I sighed and knocked on the door.

He took no time opening up, looking me over briefly. It made me feel rather uncomfortable but I tried to ignore it. “Hi.” He grinned at me. I was surprised by his enthusiastic mood. “Come on in!”

“Oh, I can’t.” I said quickly giving him a weak smile. “I just came to drop off the towels like you requested.”

He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Yes you can.” He replied with an impish smile. He knew I was lying. “Why can’t you come in?” He asked, changing the subject when he saw that I wasn’t impressed with him.

He held his door open and extended an arm as if to invite me in again. I felt myself caving. I don’t know how he did it, but he kept making me feel so guilty for turning him down. I stepped inside his suite. He closed the door behind me. “See, you can do anything that you want to.”

I wanted to slap his smart-aleck ass. He led me into the living area and went right to the carpet. To be honest, I wasn’t really paying too much attention to him; I was too busy looking around taking notice of the fact that it was clean. I was impressed. It was really clean.

I almost reeled back in shock as he turned back around carrying a beautiful baby. I couldn’t help but smile. She was so cute. She was dressed in a sweet little pink jumpsuit and held on to Michael’s shoulder with her little tiny hands.

“Something that you’re hiding from the world?” I joked with him.

He laughed good-naturedly. For a moment, I thought that perhaps my joke was right on the money but he shook his head. “I wish!” He exclaimed, “she’s my God daughter, Isabel.” He informed me. “I’m babysitting tonight while Mommy and Daddy are out to dinner, aren’t I?” He added, talking more to the baby than he was to me, teasing her with the pacifier that was pinned to her jumpsuit, causing her to giggle.

To be completely honest, I always thought that Michael’s alleged affinity to children was just a load of publicity-seeking shit. I believed that the reason why he always surrounded himself with them in public was because it made him look soft-hearted and as if he actually cared.

“I love babies.” He admitted as if he knew what I had been thinking.

I wanted to tell him that I too, loved babies. I was furthermore impressed by his interaction with the baby than I was with the state of his suite. Most males were awkward with children; they’d hesitate to pick them up, play, change diapers, or even interact, but not Michael. “Me too.” I managed to reply.

I guess that was the moment where I decided it was okay to admit it to myself.

I liked Michael. It was an innocent feeling. I thought he was nice, and I didn’t mind being there with him alone and suddenly I didn’t feel so nervous. I put the towels down that I had been dumbly holding since I entered his room.

“Do you want to sit down?” He asked me kindly. “Or are you still on shift.”

I couldn’t have lied and told him I was still on shift, but a part of me was curious to stay and hang out. “Sure, I’m not on shift” I replied honestly.

Michael smiled pleasantly at me. I sat down on the couch that he was motioning toward a little stiffly. I tried to relax but I couldn’t. I was hopeless in social situations, physical ones at least. I didn’t really know how to conduct myself around him. I couldn’t even think of anything to say. It was awkward.

Michael surprised me and sat down beside me with his Goddaughter in his lap. She really was a beautiful baby girl. Her skin was the color of cocoa and her hair looked so soft. She stared at me intently while Michael held her little hands in his. Every now and then she would try to cram one of his hands into her mouth and slob all over him. He apparently found it all very cute.

“Hello beautiful.” I smiled at her, stroking her chubby little cheek with my forefinger. She said nothing but turned back to Michael. He gave a chuckle. “She’s so sweet. She hasn’t cried a single tear all afternoon.” He told me. “She’s so easy-going.”

I smiled faintly. Easy-going was something that I definitely was not. I watched him silently amusing her. He seemed so experienced and comfortable looking after her; he was clearly very responsible and trustworthy around kids. I knew that probably spoke volumes of the person that he was. “I can’t wait to have kids…” Michael remarked aloud, almost as if his thought had been verbalized without necessarily meaning to.

“Well… you’re all hooked up with Brooke, I’m sure it won’t be long.” I wished sometimes that I could curb my forked tongue when it possessed me, but no… I was just taking unnecessary stabs at his image. I knew that the Brooke Shields thing was probably more of a publicity stunt than anything else.

Michael raised his eyebrow at me but then his slightly surprised expression relaxed in to a bit of an embarrassed smile. “Brooke and I are over.” He replied with reluctance. The smile turned a little bitter and pensive until it faded completely from his thin pink lips.

To be truthful, I didn’t know if he was just playing along with my assumption, or if he actually meant what he had said. “Magazines have been reporting otherwise.” I contradicted him. God, it was almost as if I derived some sick bitchy pleasure out of pissing him off. Sometimes I felt like I had no control over my emotions, such as when a person came along that I felt myself starting to like. This was a huge deal because I was such a friggin’ control freak, but I knew that I could easily remedy that problem by being a complete spiteful bitch. It was inevitable that the person would eventually become annoyed or even offended enough to take the first step back.

“Yeah well, they’re wrong. Brooke broke up with me awhile back.” He almost snapped. With his comment came the unspoken confirmation of my thoughts. They were together. I wanted to show some sympathy but I couldn’t. Hearing that he had been dumped made me want to tell him that it was his own fault. That’s why I was much too smart to put my heart on the line. At least I wouldn’t ever have my heart broken.

I know that my expression was blank. It was rare that I showed any signs of what I was feeling inside, unless it was disgust. I was great at showing disgust. In this case, I almost wanted to say sorry, but instead I just said nothing.

I hated myself so much.

“And anyway, I don’t think she’d be the type to want to settle down too soon.” Michael added, as if to seem as though he wasn’t all that hurt about their breakup, although his sudden change of attitude seemed to tell otherwise.

“Fair enough.” I shrugged.

“So tell me…” he began, picking up Isabel from his lap and bringing her close to his chest. “Do you always believe everything that you read?” His tone was still tinged with bitterness, as if he were annoyed with me. I almost had to stop myself from smiling with satisfaction.

“Not at all. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I picked up a stupid gossip magazine.” I answered him very matter-of-factly. “Waste of my good money.”

Finally he smiled good-naturedly and realized I’d just been razzing him. “I was gonna say… you seem far too intelligent to buy in to that crap.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” I joked. I glanced at Isabel who was staring in to space with an unmistakable expression on her face. I laughed to myself, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Michael caught it too. “Aww, Isa, come on now…” He made a face but laughed. “Couldn’t you wait for Mommy or Daddy?” he asked.

This was going to be interesting; I was about to witness Michael Jackson wrist-deep in poop. Good times.

“And it doesn’t help that you stink.” He poked her in the belly gently and made her giggle. It was true. She smelled like absolute ass. He asked me to hold her while he went and got her a fresh diaper and the change mat. She grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled until I cried mercy and pried it from her hands. Michael apparently found this incredibly funny.

“Aww honey, let go of her hair…” Michael coaxed her gently, trying to hide stifle his laughter. I gave a strained smile and handed her back to him. It was okay, the chances of Isabel grabbing a handful of Michael’s hair was slim to none. That shit was too greasy for anyone to get a good grip on.

I was surprised actually, that changing the baby’s diaper wasn’t really a big deal to him. He did it with ease and he seemed pretty comfortable about it. He made a face when he saw that she the nice little package she had left him. I laughed at him. “Glad its you and not me.” I joked.

He gave a little shrug and chuckled, “With the good always comes the bad.” He informed me. Something about his last sentence seemed to hit a chord within me but I couldn’t exactly figure out why. The smile wiped from my face and I watched him change the baby girl with so much care, as if he were her father. I saw something within Michael that even my cynical attitude couldn’t cut down.

Everyone wore masks; sometimes the ones worn by adults confused me because things they said didn’t correspond with the actions that they made. I found it very hard to distinguish good from bad because consequently I couldn’t be guaranteed that what I saw was always what I was going to get. 

As much as I hated to admit, I guess you could have said that I wasn’t a very good judge of character.

“So what about you?” Michael asked, changing the subject, realizing that I had gone quiet. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

I hated that question. So many people continually asked me that question and it always got on my last damn nerve. Mainly it came from distant family or friends that felt like it was their business.

I laughed scornfully, “Me?” I asked with disbelief. “Yeah right.” I almost felt insulted by the mere suggestion. As I could have had a boyfriend. Just who would be idiot enough to date someone like me? I thought it was his attempt at razzing me back, but actually I saw after a few moments, as he clasped Isabel’s jumpsuit back together, that he had posed a serious question.

“Why not?” He asked, seemingly perplexed.

I just smirked and shook my head as if that should have been explanation enough.

“Seriously…” He persisted. His eyes met with mine and I saw a tenderness that I really, truly wasn’t used to in the eyes of anyone except my Dad. My Dad was the nicest man in the entire world. There was not a harmful bone in my father’s body; he was the type that wore his heart on his sleeve and the only person that I didn’t have any problems showing affection to. I had to look away.

I just shrugged and I wanted to kick myself for making it so obvious that he’d hit a soft spot. “Do I strike you as the kinda girl who gets asked out on loads of dates?” I asked him raising an eyebrow. Damn it, I was raising both—but I liked to try. I tried to pretend that I was okay with the idea that no guys ever really looked my way, but internally I wasn’t. I just gave a light-hearted laugh.

“I don’t think there’s a reason why you shouldn’t.” He tried to compliment me, but I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that if I was possibly a little less cold hearted and more approachable there was a better chance of someone being interested in my ugly ass.

Suddenly I felt the atmosphere was far too intense and Isabel was starting to get restless. “I think she’s tired…” I told him. She was so sweet, even when her soft cries were slowly but surely turning in to loud wails.

“Would you mind holding her while I warm up a bottle?” Michael asked me, I guess agreeing.

I smiled genuinely at the idea. “Of course I don’t mind.” I replied brightly. I didn’t mind holding Isabel at all. In fact, I wanted to.

Michael got up from his spot on the floor where he had been changing her and handed her over. It was clear that the previous subject was about to be dropped. I felt a sense of relief. I carefully took her. Immediately her wailing got louder. I couldn’t help but feel a little flushed that she didn’t really want to leave her Godfather for the unfamiliar. “Sweetheart, don’t cry.” I soothed her. I loved the feeling of her beautiful and infantile body cradled in my arms. Her head rested in the crook of my elbow. She was so tiny and so delicate and she made my heart swell with so much emotion.

Babies and small children were so defenseless and vulnerable and I suppose that’s why I felt my own inhibitions coming undone while I was holding her. I knew that she expected nothing from me. Children didn’t wear masks, what you see was everything that you got – and for that reason I felt completely at ease.

Her wailing quieted as her curiosity took over. She looked at me with her wide eyes and stopped crying altogether momentarily. “What’s all this fuss?” I asked in a hushed voice, showing her smile. “What are you fussing about?” I repeated.

I was in my own world with her and didn’t notice Michael paused in the archway that separated the living room from the kitchen watching me. He screwed the cap back on to the bottle of milk that he had just tested to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

I briefly glanced at him, giving a thought to how experienced he actually was. “Look how tired you are…” I breathed, smoothing down her soft curls. I could see that she was fighting off sleep. Her cries grew louder and Michael stepped in. I went to hand her back to him.

“You could feed her if you want…” His voice trailed off. Part of me really wanted to, but the other part of me knew it was better just to hand her back to Michael. Despite how much I pushed away maternal instincts, I really found myself getting clucky. It had been a long time since I had spent any time around a young child, and I’d forgotten just how easy it was to be flooded with the desire to bare my own child.

“It’s alright… you can do it.” I moved closer to him on to the couch, leaning over to place her in his arms. For some stupid reason I looked up at him. Our faces were just an inch or so apart. I felt the muscles in my lips involuntarily turning in to a smile. His eyes burned in to mine and for the first time they didn’t feel so intrusive, they felt understanding—as if we had some common ground between us.

He looked away first and washed away was all maternal feelings and they were replaced with a feeling of stupidity. How could I have let myself feel so strongly for someone that I basically knew absolutely nothing about? God, why was I such an idiot? And I couldn’t even make it go away. I knew the feeling was probably fleeting, but it felt so strong and my ability to reign those intense emotions went flying out the window as I watched him feeding her.

When I had been with my last boyfriend; my Dad asked me how he was with other children and I had lied and told my Dad he was fantastic and loved them. The reason that I lied had been simple. Dad had always told me that you could tell a lot about someone by the way that they interacted with animals or kids. They both seemed to bring out the best qualities in person, and the only reason why someone would shun either away, was because they had something to hide.

I should have listened to my Dad. Aaron held such disdain for children and it meant nothing to him that I had always dreamed of having some of my own. He made it clear that there was absolutely no room to compromise. Being the perfect and submissive second class ass-kissing girlfriend that I had been, I never really voiced my opinion or my upset with his single-handed decision about our future together.

Michael was different. He was perfect with his Goddaughter. He made himself comfortable in the couch and held her easily with one arm. I noticed how huge his hands were; he engulfed almost half of her body within it. Her body was leaning inward to his chest. She looked snug and warm and drank her milk half-heartedly as her eyes began to fall closed. It was so clear that he also had the strong maternal instincts.

“Isn’t it funny how children can bring out the absolute raw emotions of a person?” he interrupted my thoughts, randomly.

I figured that it was a bit more loaded than he had intended. He was making reference to the way I had seemed to soften as soon as I took Isabel. I just nodded. Partially because I didn’t know what else to say and also because I didn’t want to speak and disturb the baby. Her eyes were fluttering as if she were still fighting off the urge to sleep.

“Smile… though your heart is achin’…. Smile, even though it’s breakin’ when there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by… If you smile, with your fear and sorrow, smile and maybe tomorrow…” He crooned so softly. I certainly hadn’t expected him to sing to Isabel, but it was clearly working. I also hadn’t expected my heart to begin beating hard in my chest.

His voice was breathtaking; it was truly one of the most beautiful instruments I’d ever heard. I couldn’t help but to feel gushy. He continued to sing, looking up at me. I caught his eye and he gave me a cheeky smile that made my heart grow just a little. He looked a little embarrassed, but he wasn’t about to stop until he was satisfied that Isabel was sound asleep.

And quite frankly, I didn’t want him to. “That’s the time… you must keep on smiling. Smile, what’s the use of crying? You’ll find… that life, is still worthwhile, if you just smile…”

He didn’t really say anything to me after he stopped. I felt the air grow a bit tense, and part of me wanted to get up and run out of the suite because I wasn’t at all comfortable with the feelings that were swirling in my stomach all compliment of him.

How dare you possess feelings for him! I could hear my conscience screaming at me with disgust. Look who he is, look who you are, look at YOU! I felt a bit ashamed of myself but tried to push that lingering feeling away. Deep down I knew that someone as gorgeous as he was, was infinitely out of my league.

He put the bottle down beside the couch and rubbed her back absently, as if thinking over what he wanted to say. I actually found myself staring at him without even being conscious of it. My eyes lingered over the patchy complexion beneath his chin that I had been shamelessly staring at a week earlier.

“Can I ask a personal question?” I asked him as my eyes made their way over his face, watching him intently.

He turned his attention to me, “Of course… but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

I smiled, “Well, you can tell me to mind my own business, Michael, I won’t mind…” I paused and wondered if it was my place to ask him what I was about to. “Is that a birth mark?” I wondered, touching under my chin to show him what I was referring to.

Michael immediately clasped his free hand under his neck. I saw him swallow hard. He’d been completely thrown by my question. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to be so blunt. I don’t know why, it’s not like I’d ever been anything else with him. He deserved an apology, though. “I’m sorry.” I quickly said, “I hope I wasn’t out of line, I was just curious.”

“Is it that noticeable?” He asked me with seriousness, disregarding my question and my apology.

I shook my head, “No. Not really.” I told a little lie, because in some parts the skin change was more prominent than in other places.

“It’s not a birthmark.” He replied simply. “I have a skin condition.” He added. “I’ll tell you more about it one day…”

I felt really rude and embarrassed myself for making him feel uncomfortable. “I’m sorry.” I apologized again, but it was obvious it was futile. “I have a heart condition?” I offered as if a sign of truce between us.

“Really?” He asked, it seemed to pep him up, almost as if it pleased him. I giggled at his reaction. He realized what he’d said and quickly dropped the intrigue. “I mean, are you okay and stuff?” He paused, “I didn’t mean to sound…so hap—“

“It’s okay Michael.” I laughed, “And yeah, I’m fine, maybe I’ll tell you about it one day too.” I added, without realizing exactly what I had committed myself to.