Chapter 15:

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” were the first words out of his mouth one entire week later.

Despite how I’d told myself our friendship had no conditions and despite the promises I’d made to my mother, I was hurt. I was hurt that he didn’t call when he said he was going to. I was hurt that I’d put my heart on the line for him and he’d completely burned me.

I tried not to show my sadness to my family, but they figured it out. Every time they tried to show compassion or tried to talk to me about it, I insisted that I was fine, that Michael had his own things to take care of and that part of being a friend was understanding and respecting his space during such difficult times.

I believed that to a degree, but the last conversation I’d with Michael rang alarm bells in my head and I couldn’t quite figure out why.

“it’s okay,” I replied to him even though my tone betrayed my words. I didn’t sound happy to hear from him, I didn’t sound sad either.

Michael sounded tired as though he’d not any sleep in that entire week.

“No, its not okay, I told you I’d call you and I just… couldn’t,” he said slowly.

“Alright,” I responded stoically.

“I got the box open just shortly after we spoke last,” he informed me, “and I read your letter and it scared me.”

“Okay.” I didn’t really know what to say and was trying so hard not to give too much of myself because I didn’t want to be burned or hurt.

“Can I come see you? Or, could you come to me? I’m scared of being alone…” he said in a soft, meek voice that worried me. He had never been so vulnerable in front of me. If he had been concerned in the past, he hadn’t let it show.

“I can come to you.” I said simply.

“I’ll send a car for you again,” he offered.

“No, don’t. I’ll drive,” I told him firmly. “Do you want me to come now?”

“If you can…” his voice trailed off.

I didn’t want to be the kind of idiot who jumped when asked, but I felt sorry for him. He was sad, he was helpless and he was alone.

I went to Neverland and was told to drive up to the house by the security who let me in without any questions, without any papers to sign, just with ease.

Michael was expecting me. He wasn’t dressed. I wasn’t out to impress either. When he’d called me that morning I’d been in my ready to go for a walk in a pair of black cargo pants and a pink hooded Adidas sweatshirt. I bother changing, but I did at least tie my hair back neatly. I knew when it came to fashion, big hair was good hair and my hair could certainly be big – but no, I preferred to tie my hair back and keep it sleek and easily maintained.

I was surprised by how awful he looked. The last time I saw him, he’d been looking a bit better, a bit fuller in the face, but this time he looked gaunt and he’d lost noticible weight in the days passed.

“Michael, gosh…” I gasped when I caught sight of his face. It was the first time I’d ever seen him without make up. He was always beautiful and gorgeous but there was something so striking about him without all of it.

But his eyes, his eyes were what worried me the most. They were defeated, tired, blood-shot and red and so devastatingly sad.

He didn’t even flinch, he just invited me inside. He seemed absent-minded and this time didn’t offer to take my bag. He didn’t offer me a drink or something to eat, he just walked ahead of me. It felt awkward but it was also heartbreaking to see just how unravelled he was. His hair was a giant mess that looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in awhile and I was unsure of how long ago it was that he’d shaved.

“Michael, did something happen?” I asked. I was petrified that he’d had some bad news that sent him on a downward spiral. He turned around as if just noticing me. He threw me a genuinely confused look and simply shook his head.

I followed him in to what was now a spotless house. “Did someone come and help you clean all this up?” I asked, noticing that all the piles of mess and broken belongings were now gone and the house looked beautiful and clean.

“No, I did it myself. I’m not going to be counting on anyone anymore for things like that, seems stupid, really…” He remarked as we went from room to room until we arrived in a sitting room. It was warm and cosy and he had a fire going before us in the fireplace.

He just took a seat on a long, mauve coloured chaise lounge.

“What can I do?” I asked him, he covered himself with a blanket. It was almost like he didn’t care if I was there or not. I felt a bit annoyed despite my upset.

“Hang out… God knows no one else wants to hang out with me right now.”

“Of course they do, maybe you’re just not showing them that you need them.”

He eyed me darkly as if my words meant nothing. I wasn’t used to him being this negative or emotional. I sat down beside him on the edge, facing him. “Oh yeah?” he challenged me, “My parents and closest friends know where I am. Besides my mother calling me every five seconds and breathing down my neck, I’ve heard from not a single soul except my lawyers.”

“Maybe they don’t know what to say,” I told him, desperate for him to not feel so destitute.

He cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t believe me for a moment.

“What about Elizabeth?” I asked kindly, “weren’t you with her the day before I saw you?”

“She had to go overseas for business…she wanted me to come but I’m not allowed to leave the country since being officially arrested,” he explained. He slouched back in to the couch and sighed with sadness. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know why he was apologising. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry I made you come here, this is exactly what you don’t need to see, your favourite pop star turns out to be some sad, lonely shut-in with ass wads of cash and no friends…” he shook his head dismally, “The person you dreamed I would be is probably better than the reality.”

“Michael, no…” I instinctively reached for his arm that was resting in his lap and rested my hand on it. He flinched in pain, and I realised immediately without seeing any proof that he surely was cutting. I remembered the healing sting of the wounds that I’d scratched in to the surface of my inner arm. Sometimes that sting was blinding when grazed or touched softly especially through material.

I decided not to address it immediately.

“You’re an amazing man. Everyone has their dog days, everyone. I know you’re sad and angry and frustrated but you are not a disappointment to me. You will never be.”

I remembered back when Beth had told him she had dropped out of college because she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She said she had dreams of being a writer and he told her point blank that he believed in her. I remembered just how much his words had impressed upon her. Despite the web of deceit she had woven, she did dedicate herself to writing. She always had a pen in her hand.

“Michael, I believe in you, I always have,” I told him when he didn’t reply, “you once told Beth that you believed in her and even if you were just saying it to make her feel better-“

“I remember telling her that,” he shot back as if it was insulting that he might not have been sincere, “about her college degree…”

“Right,” I nodded, “well, the thing is, you always believe in us, in others… but I don’t think anyone has bothered to tell you just how much we believe in you.”

“Thanks…” his voice trailed off. I detected he was a little bit emotional.

“I mean it,” I insisted, “I don’t drive three hours from Fountain Valley to Los Olivos for shits and giggles.”

He managed a half smile.

“Now, I may not be good at all that affection, warm and fuzzy stuff, but I’m good in a crisis, so what do you need me to do for you?”

He was about to say something but I halted him, “but don’t confuse me for one of your yes men. I’m your friend and your fan, so I will help, but I won’t take orders.”

“You’ll do what I tell you to,” he replied with a little smile. I was relieved to see that finally he found his sense of humour. Typical sweet, Michael, had to add that he was just kidding.

I felt like I had to be positive despite my fears for him. I leaned back on his couch too. “Is there something you want?” I asked.

“Maybe, I’m waiting for a call from an assistant. I need some medication, I might get you to pick that up for me in town later if its not too much.”

“Okay,” I agreed, “what about food, do you need groceries?”

“Yeah maybe a couple of things…” he replied with a shrug. “But for now, can you just stay and talk to me so I don’t go crazy in silence?” his last question sounded as though he wasn’t convinced I would stay.

“Sure…”

“You’re a sweet girl, Malania…” his voice trailed off, “I’m lucky to have found a friend in you.”

I didn’t really know what to say to that so I let the moment pass. “I was surprised when you rang home today, I had started to accept that I’d never hear from you again.” I admitted.

He avoided my eyes and looked down at the hem of the blanket that he was playing with. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

I waited for him to offer an explanation. I knew he felt bad, I could see it by the way he was avoiding my eyes. “Its because I told you I knew you were cutting, isn’t it?” I asked him bluntly when he didn’t continue for lack of words.

“I’m not cutting, why would you think that?” he dismissed me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Michael, I wouldn’t be a friend if I wasn’t honest with you, that’s why I wanted you to know that I saw your wrist. It wasn’t an animal scratch. I would never have written the things that I did unless I was certain, god…” I shook my head, “I would never have written my own secrets in to that letter so brazenly if I wasn’t certain.”

“So what, you’re all better now? No more cutting?”

He didn’t deny it. He seemed almost like he was making a mockery of what I’d been through. It was weird, he was so kind-hearted, so sweet even when he was being difficult and yet I couldn’t help but to feel like he wasn’t taking me seriously.

“Sometimes, when things feel really bad, I have harmed myself in instances since, but not like it was back then…”

My honesty seemed to pique his interest. He held my gaze for a moment before his eyes travelled down my arms and he stared at my wrist. I could tell that he was thinking of the scar he had spied the last time I visited.

“Can I see your scars?”

I was hesitant. I wasn’t sure what it would achieve. I didn’t want to show him. “Why?”

He shrugged, “See to believe,” he replied. I understood. He believed me and my story, I’m sure but I could cement my honesty with the proof. I reluctantly pushed one of my sleeves up and undone the clip on my silver watch and slipped it over my wrist and placed it on the coffee table.

The watch covered the suicide attempt.  

The scar would never go away. Unfortunately the last kick in the teeth to my attempt was a hypertrophic scar; raised and different to the rest of my skin colour. Apparently it was common for Asians.

Michael didn’t flinch when he saw it. He inched a little closer and slid his hand in to mine. He pulled my arm across his lap. Any other time I would have been dying of happiness to have my hand in Michael Jackson’s, with him sitting beside me examining my skin. But no, I was too busy dying of shame.

I felt my eyes filling up as I felt his eyes falling over the horizontal scars that filled that space beneath my watch. I couldn’t stand it anymore, I pulled my arm from his grasp and wriggled my sleeve back down. He noticed that I was about to cry and I noticed his intrigue turned to sheepishness and concern, forgetting his own troubles.

“Please don’t cry, I’m sorry,” he apologised. Old Michael was back, the Michael that was kind and compassionate. “I shouldn’t have asked you to show me, I’m sorry.”

I shook my head and wiped my eyes before the tears soaked my cheeks. “Its okay…”

“No, I’m being a jerk. Its not your fault my life has turned to shit,” he murmured, “you’re being the sweetest, I know you care about me, I know you’re here because you feel for me and you want to help, so its not fair of me to be such a pig.”

“I’m okay,” I told him, trying to compose myself. I was still quite disturbed by my own scars. I didn’t think it was anything I’d ever truly get over.

He slid his hand in mine again, pulling it back to him. He laced his fingers through mine and caressed it with his free hand soothingly.

“I’ve been cutting a long time too,” he blurted out, “but I stopped for a long time, I didn’t feel like anything was too hard to deal with anymore, but now…” his voice trailed off. I couldn’t believe his jarring honesty.

“What made you able to stop?” I asked curiously.

“Meeting Casey and Diane,” he replied. It was the first time I’d heard her name from his mouth. I was sure there was much more to the story. “They loved me,” he told me quietly, “and I loved them.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t make up lies and sell them off to the world.”

I gave his hand a squeeze.

We sat in silence for a few moments, “so… what made you feel everything was so awful that you wanted to do this to yourself?” he asked me. This time he wasn’t asking in such a challenging, almost patronising way, but rather curious and compassionate. Before he waited for an answer, he added, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I have never told a single soul…” I remarked, “and I guess I could tell you, but maybe not right now. I don’t even know if I could say it…” it was true, to speak the words out loud made it more truth than it had ever been. What it was in my mind was a surreal dream that never seemed to have any realism to it.

“I understand. You don’t have to tell me. But, after you did this, didn’t everyone probe at you for answers?”

I nodded, “yeah and they still do,” I said, “in fact, my sister, Anica, she rarely speaks to me. We are polite but we keep our distance because of all that.”

“Why? Shouldn’t she have been worried?” Michael asked. I could see the concern written all over his face. I hated that it was for me but was glad that the coldness from his tone had been lifted.

“I guess, she found me though and I suppose it was traumatic and selfish of me. And because I never gave her any clear cut answers, she’s resolved that I was being dramatic; that I had no real reason to do this to myself.”

“Maybe she took it personal. Were you close or anything before that?” he wondered.

I nodded, “Yeah, she and I were pretty close. She used to spare me when my brother had his meltdowns. Maybe one day we could get to that place again, but I can’t tell her either.”

I could tell he was curious but he didn’t push the issue. Instead he bluntly shared bits and pieces of his past. “You know, the weeks leading up to meeting Casey, I had planned my suicide.”

I felt my breath catch at idea of not having him around anymore. “What? You?”

He gave a sardonic smile and eased down beside me, sharing his blanket with me. It wasn’t long before he rested his head comfortably on my shoulder. I knew he missed affection. My Mama was affectionate, but it was almost smothering sometimes. Michael was different.

I rested my head against his.

“My brother was at the height of his ‘Michael’s gay’, obsession, my Dad kept asking me for money that he wanted to piss away in to bad business deals and I was so, so, so famous to the point where it started to make me anxious.”

“I thought you loved all that…” I remarked, “that’s why we always waited to say hello, we thought that’s how you wanted it.”

“I did…” he corrected me, “I mean, I do… It’s the paparazzi and the media, always waiting with baited breath for me to put a foot wrong. Then, one day someone got in my face and told me I was ugly, I looked like a freak and that I was bleaching my skin…”

There had been a noticible change to his skin colour since I’d become a fan. Whenever anyone brought it up with me, I chose to mind my business. I didn’t know the reason and it wasn’t my place to assume that I knew. Also, I loved Michael unconditionally, I didn’t care.

“People are mean-spirited assholes,” I told him, “you are perfect as you are and I hope you never took that on board.”

“Oh, I took it on board alright…” he laughed, “its not like I didn’t already have self esteem issues.”

“But so many people love you…” I murmured.

“They don’t love me, they love who they think I am. I disappoint everyone who gets to know me, Malania, and I’m sure I’ll disappoint you too, that’s why there’s no one here now. Just you…”

“People don’t understand you,” I told him point blank, staring in to his eyes, “but I think I do. I could be wrong, but I think I do…”

He stared back and gave me a tiny little smile. I was sure that was his silent way of agreeing with me.

“I’m glad you didn’t go through with it,” I told him, “whatever purpose Casey and Diane had in your life, albeit pretty freaking evil right now, I am glad that they had the power to stop your suicide.”

“I’m not so sure I feel the same,” he replied.

“Well, given the situation, I’m not entirely surprised.”

We chewed on our separate thoughts for a little while. I thought for a moment he’d drifted off to sleep, but he let out a deep sigh that alerted me to the fact that he was awake.

Finally I spoke up. “Do you want to do something fun?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, you need cheering up… we both do. Do you want to go for a drive?”

He lifted his head from my shoulder and looked at me like I was crazy. “Do you realise how crazy and dangerous that would be if someone saw me? Besides, the security guard won’t let me go anywhere.”

I laughed, “Well, we’ll wait until it gets dark. I’ll pretend I’m going home, you can hide in the backseat while I drive out and then you can come climb in the front and we can turn the windows down and the tape deck up!”

Now he was smiling for real. “Do you think anyone might see me?”

“Well… not unless we get too close to others. We could go to Pismo beach or something and just hang out. We don’t even have to get out of the car if we don’t want… I just think maybe some fresh air and freedom couldn’t hurt you right now.”

“Could we stop at a drive through and get ice cream?” he asked as though he was getting permission. I laughed, feeling lighter. “Sure, we could do that.”

“I like that you are all for breaking the rules a little bit,” he said, “everyone’s always too wound up to let me do something different.”

“Well I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, but I’m sure if we are smart about it, you’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said with certainty, looking brighter than he’d been since I’d arrived. “Lets do it, lets paint the town tonight.”

I just laughed, leaving it to Michael to use such an ancient expression.