Chapter 38

Things here these past few days have been pretty strange without you. Its funny how a couple months ago I was happy to get just a glimpse of you once or twice here or there, but now that we’ve gotten to know each other, I feel like I can’t seem to think of anything but you… I hope that’s not lame to admit, but I feel like I should be honest with you.

I do miss you. I miss your face, I miss your cologne, I miss your huge smile and I miss the way you always seem to be stroking my hair without even having to think to do it.

The people here are really nice, especially the nurses. There’s a girl who I have been hanging out with; she is only 16, but we paint together most nights. I’m teaching her a couple of things, it’s the first time in my life anyone has ever kind of looked up to me, which is odd – but a nice feeling, maybe its just good for my ego.

Therapy is okay, its not as intrusive or as awful as any other therapy session I’ve been to. I told her my secret, but I didn’t go in to detail. Just admitted it, but nothing more. I know that’s progress but I’m not sure when or if I’m going to be able to address it more thoroughly.

Oh, and there’s a patient here who makes me feel like I’m back in high school. On my first morning she was really nice and friendly and then later that night she went crazy and yelled at me. Competitive Asian girl, I don’t know much about her but she doesn’t like it when I look her way, she accused me last night of staring at her and she told me that my subpar half-white genetics probably sent me in to manic depression… she’s insane and paranoid, but quietly hilarious.

I hope that you won’t find these little daily notes as pathetic as I feel writing them.

“I thought of something,” I told my therapist with a smile. I felt pretty comfortable with her by my third session.

Raia watched me waltz in the doorway and slip in to the comfy leather couch. I tucked my legs beneath me. She was casual with me too; I think that was part of what made me feel comfortable.

“What’s that?” she asked with a smile. She wore a pair of black rectangle framed glasses and pushed them back up on her nose.

“You asked me how I’d describe myself the first day that I was here – and I wasn’t sure, I think I know now.”

“Okay, go ahead…” she held a pen perched above a notepad to begin taking notes. At first that part of it distracted me, but now I was able to ignore it.

“I feel like I’m family-oriented. I am a person who cares deeply about her family – well, most,” I couldn’t help but adding. “Also, I am a person who internalises everything. I don’t express myself very often, but when I do, its meaningful. I don’t share too much, but again, when I do its because I have trusted someone implicitly.” I thought some more, trying to remember some of the insightful thoughts I’d gone to bed with.

“I like to be needed, I am artistic, a deep-thinker and I view the world very naively because I’ve been sheltered like crazy in some ways.”

I couldn’t think of anything else so I left it there.

“Those are some very good thoughts, you seemed uncomfortable with that bit of homework the other day,” she remarked, pulling her long black hair over one shoulder.

“So, with that in mind, Malania, how do you feel like others perceive you? You mentioned your boyfriend, last time, did you want to go in to that today?”

I thought for a moment and shrugged, feeling a little bit brave. “Everything I say here is confidential right?” I asked rhetorically. I knew it was, she had told me on my first session that that was the case.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“I have a complicated relationship. We met in the most unconventional way and he’s … kind of important to the world…”

Raia looked at me with curiosity or maybe concern that I was a bit delusional. “In what way do you feel that he’s important to the world?”

I tried to be crafty with my responses. I tried a different tactic, “lets just say he’s complicated. He’s amazing, but he is complicated and above all else, he always puts me first and no one has ever done that before.”

“And I think you mentioned its in the beginning stages, is that right?” she asked.

“Yeah… I suppose. We’ve known each other for a long time, but something bad happened to him and I was there for him and we became close friends and now we’re…. here.”

“What is he like?” she asked, “sorry, did you mention his name?”

“Mike,” I replied, “he is a really, really nice person – he comes from a big family. He’s very affectionate, protective…” I tried to bite my lip to keep from smiling, “he’s generous probably to his own fault but not just to me, to everyone he comes in to contact with… which,” I paused, “I think is important because its easy to just be nice to the people you like.”

Raia smiled at me. “And how do you think he perceives you?”

“You’re asking the tough questions today,” I joked. “I don’t know, Raia, I think maybe … non-judging, he probably thinks I’m understanding, he might see me as someone who hasn’t existed perfectly and maybe he likes that we can relate to each other because we’ve had similar issues in the past… and I don’t know why but he’s obviously attracted to me…”

She was writing furiously. “What kind of similar experiences do you feel like you’ve both shared?” she wondered.

I sat back and leaned my head back and stared at the roof for a moment playing a dare game with myself. I wasn’t sure if I should elaborate too much, and if I did, should I truly trust her?

“Feeling like… our parents haven’t always done the best to protect us or help us… Maybe, feeling like outsiders looking in and watching the world spin without ever really being a part of it.”

“That’s a very interesting thing to say, do you feel like that currently?”

I started feeling a bit fidgety and agitated and felt like perhaps I’d shared too much with her. I didn’t want her to figure out that I was dating the Michael. I also didn’t really like talking too much about the way I felt.

“I guess so,” I mumbled.

She asked another question but I ignored it and focused on the fact that I could see the white of my socks peeking from beneath the fabric of my dark grey sweats. We weren’t allowed to wear shoes with laces as a safety risk, so I had a pair of black slip ons, generally I just wore house slippers around the place.

I thought about the first time I’d ever met Michael. Beth and I had been pen pals through a fan club newsletter and finally decided to meet up. It was in L.A, Michael had a public event where he was supposed to cut the ribbon at some random stock market building.

We waited all day, before any barricades were even put up. We hadn’t expected the turn out to be so crazy.

The crowed behind us pushed and shoved and before I knew it, a security guard had helped Beth over the barricades and to safety. Michael was quickly ushered out and I began to feel a little faint, feeling myself being pushed up against the metal rails. I was pulled out too, we were just two of many. We were taken to safety. I couldn’t find Beth and that distressed me a little.

“Hold still, I’d just like to make sure you’re okay,” a woman paramedic spoke to me calmly. She was a soft-featured, young African American woman.

“I’m fine,” I said, “it was just pushing in to my chest, where’s my friend?” I asked, alarmed.

After checking me over and realising I was truly fine, I left to go find Beth. I was directed by a security officer to follow my way past a corridor of burly men and I guessed that this was the path that Michael took. That thought made me tingle with excitement.

I caught sight of Beth waiting for me at the end of guarded off area. She was pointing and throwing her hands about crazily. I laughed, she had made a pretty good impression on me. She was funny and bubbly and easy to get along.

Hearing some commotion behind me, I turned around and stopped completely in my tracks as the rest of the world dissolved around me.

I never dreamed that meeting Michael Jackson would have been so surreal. He stood before me smiling at something someone was saying to him. I stared dumbly, my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even move I was absolutely stunned.

I could hear Beth behind me arguing with a guard to be let past to get to me but they wouldn’t let her.

I tried to speak but nothing came out. It took me two more attempts. I wasn’t outspoken and I had no idea what I was even supposed to say, but his name came out of my mouth.

He was about six feet from me by the time I had actually spoken his name. He looked beautiful in a pair of black tapered paints with two red stripes up each side and a black braided military style jacket made from what looked like crushed velvet. It was zipped up tightly and fit his form in the most flattering way. He stood at least a foot or so taller, maybe more on the boot heels he was wearing.

He wore a pair of wayfarers and his hair was slicked back. I saw that I had his attention and I wasn’t sure what to do next. Deciding for me was the 6ft something giant that laid his hands on me. I yelped in shock and tripped backwards.

The guard standing by his side shielded him from me despite the fact that I was well out of arms reach and was already being manhandled.

“Its okay,” Michael called. The guard was too busy trying to drag me away when all I was trying to do was get my footing. When the guard didn’t let up and I struggled and tripped again a second time, Michael spoke again.

“Whoa, whoa, wai-wai-wait, let go of her, she’s okay,” he commanded the guard, pushing past the one who tried to get between he and I as if I were going to attack him, “let go, help her up,” he spoke a little more gently as he inched toward him, “there’s no need to be so rough with my fans…”

If I wasn’t so stunned and embarrassed, I would have been able to respond or say something witty or charming, but no. I was flat on my ass on the asphalt looking up like some kind of moron at the outstretched hand of my idol attempting to help me up.

I had imagined the moment over and over again where I would meet him; what I would say, how I would look. I imagined how he’d say something incredibly charming or uplifting to give me hope about my home life, but what he did in that moment was better than all of that.

“Let me help you up, I’m sorry…” he apologised. I waited for my body to start obeying the signals that my brain was sending to my limbs. I reached out for his hand. I was so overwhelmed that I wanted to cry, but I kept it inside; at least my pride wasn’t betraying me.

He bore most of my weight as he pulled me up, placing two hands on either of my shoulders to steady me. He smiled at me kindly and apologised again for the security guard. “What’s your name?” he asked casually as if he were just some normal random guy.

“M…Malania…” I stammered.

“Oh wow, that’s different, are you okay? did you get hurt back there?” I realised he was referring to being behind the barricades.

“No, no, I think I’m alright, thank you.” I apologised. I tried to do a little bit of self-talking, Get some balls, Malania, I thought, this might be your only chance to ever get to speak to him.

I drew in a deep breath, “I’m a huge fan, Michael, one of your biggest…”

The whole time he smiled and kept a hold of my hand. “Oh, thank you… you are so sweet. Where are you from?” he asked, “here in California?” we walked very slowly toward Beth who was yelling things trying to get our attention, but it was just him and I in that moment.

“Yeah, I live in California,” I replied with the feeling coming slowly back in to my hands.

Interrupting us, was Beth who managed to navigate her way around a security officer. She bounded toward us giddily. “Michael, Michael, I am a huuuuge fan!”

He laughed at how jubilant she was. His own bodyguard asked her to calm down and take a step back. She backed off immediately, not wanting our time with him to be cut short. Glancing at Beth and then back at Michael, I decided to take the backseat. I focused on his hand in mine as we moved slowly toward the exit which we were dangerously close to.

I barely heard all the bullshit conversation Beth was making because all I could focus on in that moment was how lovely he’d been and the chivalry he showed me leaving an imprint upon my heart.

My heart flip-flopped as I felt him give my hand a little squeeze. I looked up at him with a smile. He pulled his attention away from Beth so briefly that she didn’t notice to return my smile. As stupid as it I felt for thinking it, it seemed like it was his way of acknowledging that I’d decided to give Beth the opportunity to speak with him.

“Malania?” Raia tried to get my attention noticing I’d spaced out for a moment.

“Sorry,” I shook my head, “what did you say?”

“I asked what your relationship was like with your parents and siblings, if you feel closer to anyone more than an another,” she repeated herself.

I was over it though, the therapy. I was just bursting at the seams to see Michael and I barely had to wait twenty-four hours.

I couldn’t watch any of the news about the case on the television without others weighing in their opinion on it and part of me was afraid I’d be recognised, but thankfully apart from the night of the arraignment, the media’s focus was solely upon his initial arrest – that footage kept getting a fair amount of air time.

Or so I thought.

“I don’t know… can we talk about something else?” I asked her, “there’s a girl in here who’s giving me a hard time and I don’t know why…” I told her, “she’s insane, I think she has an eating disorder but she’s about fifteen shades of crazy, maybe you should spend more time chatting to her and picking her brain.”

Raia just smiled, “I have time for the both of you. What is she doing to make things hard on you?”

“I dunno, she says random stupid things when she’s angry, she’s throwing the old, I’m-more-Asian-than-you race card at me, which—I don’t even care about, I love my heritage, I get the best of both worlds—but she makes me uncomfortable.”

“Would you like me to get a nurse to keep her eye on it?”

I shook my head, “No, I’m a big girl. She’s just a pest. A lot of people in here are annoying and love playing the victim, it makes me angry.”

“Why?” she asked, “we all have problems, why does it make you angry for people to share them?”

“Because half of these people have no culpability, they won’t recognise that they caused half of their own problems – or if they didn’t, they’re certainly not helping themselves.” I shrugged a little petulantly.

“So, what happened to you, you think that you should be held responsible for it?” she asked gently, “do you think maybe you didn’t help yourself out of the situation?”

“I don’t fucking know… maybe.” I tried to act like I didn’t care, but I could feel my stomach churning and my throat feeling like it was closing. I knew I’d said too much, I was tired and annoyed by the stupid girl constantly throwing comments my way.

I felt bad for swearing, but I was at the end of my tether with trying to talk my feelings out. I took a deep breath and sighed, “I find it hard to talk to you about my secret,” I told her, “if I can’t even talk about it with my family or my boyfriend, how the hell am I supposed to talk about it with a stranger?” I asked her, “And you keep asking these questions in a backhanded way, hoping that I’m going to start divulging shit about my family… its exhausting.”

Raia let me have my maddening rant and waited for me to calm down. She said nothing and I knew that was part of her tactics. I hated silences, especially awkward silence, I’d have bet she was just waiting for me to fill it.

“Malania,” she began, capping off her pen and leaning on her clipboard, “have you ever seen a bunch of people play tug-of-war?”

I gave her a funny look, half expecting her to produce a rope from some place. I just nodded.

“Imagine for me, that you’re playing tug-of-war and your opponent is the someone or something that causes you great distress or pain. Between you both is a gaping chasm. That something or someone is so, so incredibly strong and is slowly but surely pulling you closer and closer and you’re fighting back so desperately because you don’t want it to win—“

I just listened to her without saying a word. I focused back on my stupid slip-on shoes.

“What do you think the right thing to do in that situation would be?”

“Let it win and pull me in to the gaping chasm and then I’ll be dead so I won’t have to worry about it anymore,” I remarked bitterly.

“Forget what you feel like doing, what do you think would be the most sensible thing to do?” she pressed, ignoring my stupid comment.

I reached up absently and clasped on to the Tiffany & Co heart that Michael brought me. I felt myself often doing that when I was feeling a little anxious. “I’d say letting go, but that means letting that thing win over me.”

“What if you don’t look at it as winning or losing. If you let go, your hands stop aching, you get a flush of relief over you that the fight is over and while that something might still exists, you’re no longer struggling. You can acknowledge it every now and then, you can recognise that its still there, but you aren’t all tied up with the fight…”

I said nothing and took in what she said.

“I think my boyfriend is coming to visit me tomorrow and I’m scared,” I told her changing the subject.

“Why are you scared?” Raia asked me.

“Of people treating me different,” I murmured, “doesn’t matter,” I added, “it’ll be okay.” I am sure I was saying that more to myself than to anyone else. “Anyway, I’m done.” I told her, getting up.

“Okay Malania, we can leave it there today, if you feel like you want to see me again sooner to discuss anything we’ve touched on today, let your nurse know.”

“Thanks…” I got up and let myself out.

**

I wandered past a bunch of girls sitting in a circle playing UNO or knitting or … whatever, I didn’t care. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to lay in bed. “Lani…” I heard a voice that I had tried to sneak by unnoticed. I winced in frustration as the voice called my new cutesy nickname again.

I turned around and found Julia at my heels like a happy puppy. She was sweet and kind and very likeable, but sometimes I just needed my space.

“Hi Julia,” I greeted her, summoning up my best smile.

“Is your boyfriend coming tomorrow?” she asked me excitedly. I knew she wanted to meet Peter, but she wasn’t going to. I wondered just how things might go if people saw him. The very idea of it stressed me out.

“Uhm, I’m not sure, I haven’t had the chance to speak with him.” I replied, glancing at her cute little Punky Brewster pyjamas. Every now and then Julia showed me a glimpse of a little girl that was buried beneath her bravado.

“Did you want to hang out? The girls are all trying to learn to knit, but I’m hopeless at it.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ve actually had a pretty rough therapy session, I think I just want to be alone for awhile.”

“Oh,” she replied looking disappointed, she tried to cover it with a smile, “okay, I understand. I hope you have a good rest.”

I gave her a wave and went back to my room and threw myself on to my bed.

**

I was happy to see Cassie on duty. She woke me up for dinner, but I wasn’t really hungry. She told me it was going to be noted on my chart. I promised that maybe I’d change my mind, I was guessing threatening me with my chart was a bad thing.

“Why aren’t you hungry, do you want to talk about it?” she asked me, sitting on the edge of my bed.

Sometimes some of the nurses felt like friends—I’m sure that probably wasn’t the case if I wasn’t a compliant patient like Peyton.

“I just don’t want to sit in a communal hall with everyone and eat, I want to be on my own tonight… I miss my boyfriend, I miss my parents…”

She gave me a smile, “If I bring you some soup from the cafeteria, will you eat that?”

I considered it for a moment and nodded, “Okay, thanks.”

She disappeared and game back with a tray of food and placed it on the foot of my bed. It smelled okay. The food, for the most part in the treatment center wasn’t too awful.

“You realise that you’re allowed to have visitors tomorrow, right?” she asked me.

I nodded, “I’m scared of him visiting me here,” I admitted.

“What off, honey?” Cassie asked me, her smile disappearing, she gave me a concerned and empathetic face.

“Its just very complicated…” I murmured, “And I don’t know how to explain it without everyone losing their shit.”

“Try me…” she pressed.

“He’s famous.” I blurted out, “He’s famous and his name isn’t Peter and he’s going to want to visit me and people are going to go nuts and then its going to affect how everyone treats me and then there might be stories leaked about me; or us.”

Cassie stared at me for a moment before deciding hat to say next, “how famous? Prince famous or like, in the media every single day kind of famous?” she asked.

“Every single day famous,” I pouted, “we spoke to the admissions department about it when I arrived and they said that he could visit as long as it wasn’t disruptive for the other patients… but I don’t know how that’s going to work.”

“You know, a lot of our patients are the kids of famous people or dignitaries; at this place we honour confidentiality to the nth degree. I think we will be able to make sure you get some privacy so that we can keep the other patients from finding out.”

I breathed in and opened the top of the soup container and let the scent of it tantilise my senses briefly. “I hope so…” I murmured, “he’s having a hard time at the moment too, he doesn’t need any extra shit in his life.”

“Don’t worry about it, Malania, we’re your caretakers and so let us take care of it for you. He can’t be so famous that we can’t just slip him past us.”

I drew in a deep breath and stirred the soup absently.

“His name is Michael….” I murmured, “Michael Jackson.”

I saw the brief look of shock and excitement spread across her face ever-so-briefly before it was quickly replaced back with a look of professionalism. I knew there was a part of her that thought I was a little bit delusional.

“Wait, this stuff that I’m telling you – its confidential right?”

“Yes, absolutely, of course…” she replied. For a split moment I went in to panic mode, but I felt like she was sincere. Naturally anyone would have a thousand questions, but she knew better than to breach professionalism by asking me and I was glad for that.

“You probably think I’m delusional.”

Cassie laughed, the kind of laugh that made me know I was spot on. I instantly knew that she doubted my story. I didn’t blame her; she probably heard all kinds of crazy shit from patients all the time.

“No, I don’t think you’re delusional,” she smiled, “why don’t you eat your dinner and get an early night, I’m sure your parents and boyfriend will be trying to make contact with you tomorrow.”

She left me to it, probably to go report to whoever was in charge that the weird Asian girl said Michael Jackson was her boyfriend.

I didn’t care. I sipped at the soup and ignored the piece of bread on a separate plate. I put the soup down and sat back against my bed head and picked up my book.

I really, really, really hoped Michael had planned on visiting me.