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Chapter Five: I’ll Reach Out My Hand To You…

I really wasn’t sure what to think. I was conflicted. There was a part of me that was upset that Beth had left and we couldn’t experience this encounter with Michael together, but then a part of me knew that this probably wouldn’t have occurred, had Michael not overheard her leave me in the middle of nowhere.

I was certainly miffed about that.

When we found out that Michael had been accused, Beth had made continuous bad-taste jokes, that, for the most part said more about her dark humor and ways of dealing with the heartbreak we felt for him and also for us, but it got to me. The jokes continued all day long. I knew she was upset and joking at his expense was sometimes her way of getting through without too much emotion, but… it was wearing thin. Perhaps we spent far too long together on tour…

I knew once she found out Michael and I were spending time together, alone, without security or any knowledge from anyone else, that she would lose it.

We talked quietly at first. I was freaking out interiorly, but I had met Michael so many times over the past year and some that I had learned to keep my cool and just treat him like a regular person. Or at least try – because the fact of the matter was that he wasn’t a regular guy. Even when Michael tried to act like everyone else, he stood out. He was so good. I couldn’t remember a time where he was rude to us or a time where he ignored us for sleep or something that he needed more than to see us.

The first time I’d met him, he gave me a warm hug and told me he loved me without me even saying anything. I couldn’t, I’d been rendered completely speechless. I just accepted the hug, smiled at him and murmured a thank you and left.

Beth usually did most of the talking. Sometimes she prattled on so much that it embarrassed me, but Michael didn’t mind. I was aware he liked me better. Beth knew it too, she constantly berated me about it as if it were something I had control over.

When Beth spoke he usually looked me over, catching my eye or smiling at me as if expecting me to come out with something. I never said much, I didn’t have a lot to say really. I liked to tell him when he did a great show or I liked to comment on the show’s production because those types of things interested me and I knew the things that Beth talked about didn’t really interest him that much. She basically gushed her entire way through conversation. It consisted of how much she loved him, how amazing he was, how she loved his hair, his outfits and so forth, never really commenting on his music or his shows.

I know he appreciated honest feedback. Sometimes he would ask me how such thing sounded from the audience and thanked me endlessly for being honest. At one point, he told me to stop being nice and to just be truthful.

Beth nearly cried because of how embarrassing it was when I told him the sound was a bit off during the first half of the show. She saw it as me insulting Michael, rather than me just doing what he asked of me.

I was by no means a music guru, but I had a good ear for sound.

“How come when you guys come to see me, you never say much?” Michael asked, interrupting my internal conflict about Beth.

I couldn’t really believe I was sitting with him on a couch no less, in a comfortable, relaxed environment. We had no constraints on time and no pretenses about us. He was stripped back to being Michael, the regular guy that he wanted to be but could never be.

He wore his hair pulled back, though his curls pretty much had a mind of their own. He wore a grey hoodie and a pair of red and blue striped pajama pants and some slippers. I had almost chuckled at his attire when I’d seen him in the light.

I shrugged, “Beth has more to say than me.” 

He gave me a warm smile which told me that he didn’t believe me, and that he picked up on my slight dig at my friend. It wasn’t really like that though, I loved Beth to bits and it was true, she definitely had more to say.

“No, really…,” he insisted. 

“I prefer to listen and observe. I also don’t want to sound like a colossal idiot by giving you compliments every five seconds, I’m sure that after awhile it sounds trite,” I replied honestly.

“Hey, I like compliments every five seconds,” he joked with a relaxed chuckle, “this ego,” he pointed at his face, “he needs it.”

I laughed too. Laughing with Michael Jackson, who would have ever thought?

“No, but… sometimes I find it very hard to say nice things because compliments should be totally heartfelt and not just lip service, so I guess I want it to mean something when it comes from me.”

I caught him gazing at me and then he grinned, “that’s beautiful, what a great way to put it.” I held my breath for a moment. It was all I could do from combusting in a pool of gelatinous goo, or at least that’s how it felt with his eyes burning in to mine.

I averted mine first.

I was always surprised by his interest in me over Beth. She was the prototype; the typical California girl; blonde hair, green eyes, a subtle dusting of freckles across her perfectly symmetrical face—I figured Michael would be really in to her.

“Thanks,” I replied a bit awkwardly. The whole situation was surreal. I was sitting in a guest room with a Jackson family owned blanket draped over my shoulders and drinking hot cocoa with Michael.

Well, I was drinking, he wasn’t. He kept prompting me to drink so that I would get warm, but I noticed he wasn’t touching his. He tried to get me to eat too, but I was too shy. I would have probably spilled or something. He had picked up a sandwich and nibbled at it before putting it back down. Given what had happened earlier, I wasn’t surprised that he had no appetite.

“I bet its nice to be at home with your family…” I remarked. He gave a weary smile that made me feel like it was a bit of a sore subject.

“Yeah, but it would have been nicer under different circumstances.” 

“Its not fair… You don’t deserve this.” I knew my words were futile, but I needed to say it. 

“Thank you…” he stared off for a moment, his eyes fixed on the carpet. I was certain I saw a clear film covering his eyes but it was soon blinked away along with his trance.

“Can I ask, do you know the person who has accused you?” 

His eyes got a little darker and he nodded. “What do you think?” he wondered. At first I thought he was being sarcastic, as if it were a dumb question to assume that he might not even know the accuser, but I figured out quickly that he was genuinely asking what I thought about the accusation.

“I think its unfair. If you know the person then its even worse. Its… the kind of betrayal that you could never really explain…” 

“Is there any part of you that would believe that I was capable?” he asked, suddenly his attitude changing, almost as if he was getting mad.

At me? Maybe.

“No.” I said stoically, daring to glance at him. His eyes were wide, awaiting me to elaborate. I shifted a little uncomfortably, suddenly feeling my face feel flushed with heat. “If there was any part of me that believed that you were a paedophile, I wouldn’t have been sitting out in the freezing cold in the middle of a street which has been prone to mountain lions and such…” I told him frankly. “If I had an inkling of a doubt in your innocence, you’d have disgusted me the other night in Mexico City. I believe in you one hundred and fifty percent.”

“I don’t know if my friend who has accused me really believes in her accusation or if she’s been motivated to do it for other reasons. Its so confusing.” 

I felt awful for him. He had no one. I thought it spoke volumes that Hayvenhurst was dead. No one was with him, he had been walking the grounds alone, not a friend in the world. His brothers and sisters weren’t anywhere to be found, his high-profiled celebrity friends weren’t around. His security, personal assistants and all the hangers-on that were always a hurdle for Beth and I to get through – and yet, there was not one trace of them anywhere.

“Was it a good friend?” I asked, hoping that the person accusing him was a distant friend.

“The best…” he replied with a slow nod, getting taken away by his own thoughts again, “well, I thought,” he added. 

He drew in a deep breath and turned back to me as if he had just erased the former conversation. “Anyway, are you feeling warmer?” 

I nodded, “thank you, this was very kind of you. I can go back out and wait for Beth, leave you to rest, I’m sure you need it.” I didn’t want to be so rude but his eyes were decorated with dark circles around them.

“It makes no difference, I can’t sleep anyway,” he told me with a shrug, “its nice to have someone to talk to.”

I realized in that moment how incredibly lonely he must have been to want to sit and chat to a fan. Me, much less. I didn’t have low self-esteem or anything, but I was no match for some other glam celebrity friend he could have called up.

Though, maybe all that was just for show, maybe it was true that in show business, friends were like a rose amongst thorns.

“Okay.” it all began to feel a little bit awkward. I wanted to be his friend, as a fan that was the very least that we could ever expect, but this was different. I didn’t expect that becoming someone who would loan him an ear would happen this way, or so easily.

At first when he approached, despite my sadness for the situation he was in, I could only feel numb with excitement, but my heart was sinking for him. I realized as each moment passed how hurt he was, how sad he was and how much he needed someone.

And yet he had no one.

I was almost at the right place at the right time. I wasn’t special. If I wasn’t there, it would have been another fan. I started to feel unremarkable and if I was going to be honest, a little short-changed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked noticing the way I had shifted in moods and probably in body language too.

“I just feel a bit like I’m intruding. I was sitting outside tonight because I was heartbroken for you. I feel awful for everything you’re going through and because I can’t really face my family or friends at home. I know how I feel is about 1/100th of what you must be feeling, so I feel like me being here is … silly. I know you felt bad cos I was cold because you are always putting people before yourself, and that’s wonderful, but I’m a fan and I chose to be out in the cold… You don’t have to be responsible for me.” 

He seemed almost hurt and I immediately regretted everything that came out of my mouth. Was I being an ingrate? Maybe, but I also didn’t want to fool myself in to thinking that I was suddenly going to become his best friend.

“Firstly,” he began, his softly spoken voice getting a bit stronger, “thank you for saying all that. I know you’re a fan, but my fans are like family to me, I probably consider you guys more important than my friends. I invited you to come inside because you were left all alone by someone you considered a friend in the freezing cold – which to be truthful, is something like what’s happened to me,” he explained brazenly. That clear film of water covered my eyes this time.

When Beth had left me, I had almost began to sob, but his voice in the dark had saved me from breaking down. Ihad been hurt by Beth. I felt betrayed that her level of upset over the allegations weren’t measuring up to mine. I felt as though she had been getting frustrated with my sadness. Perhaps that wasn’t fair, but it had been a rough few days for me, so I could only imagine how it was for him.

“Maybe it’s unkind of me to say, but I don’t think a real friend should have turned her back on you like that. The day after the allegations broke when we were in Mexico, my manager walked out on me, and really, I’ve heard from no one besides my Mom and Dad.” He looked at me with those beautiful big chocolate puppy eyes that looked wounded through to his soul. They cut through me, through my wall that I had permanently built around me and made my eyes well with tears.

You’ve been with me for years now. I could probably recall the first time I met you and I don’t think anyone besides my fans would understand how this truly feels.”

I wiped my eyes, trying to be discreet. I didn’t know how it would feel to be him, but I knew how my heart felt. I knew how it felt to have anxiety over the accusations against him. When I heard the news, my heart felt like it had fallen out of my body, my hands were tingling and I felt shock. After the shock subsided, I cried and cried and cried. Then I called my parents, they loved Michael and loved the joy that he brought me, so they did what they knew so well, they prayed for him.

I wasn’t much of a praying girl, but I trusted my parent’s trust in the Lord and prayed too.

Beth was dismissive and told me that everything would be fine. When we saw Michael in Mexico the very same night, he allayed our fears, but in hindsight, I was pretty sure it was because he really had no idea at that point exactly what was happening to him.

He smiled through his own touching words and through my emotions, “You’re not one for talking feelings, are you?” he wondered almost as if he were amused.

“I guess its been an overwhelming day.” I replied, “I’m sorry for getting emotional.”

“Don’t apologise. There’s nothing shameful about having feelings.”

“Why don’t you stay here tonight in the guest house, okay?” I was a little bit shocked at his request, “in the morning I’ll come and get you and we can organize for you to get back to your hotel.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Malania, I’m sure… do you think I’d be able to forgive myself if a mountain lion ate my number one fan?”

I almost shivered when he said my name, instead I chuckled. He did too. It was a nice break from all the tension. He got up, placing the hot cocoa he had been avoiding back on the tray.

He waited for me to follow him as he showed me around the guest cottage. It looked like a tiny Spanish villa. He showed me to the bedroom and pointed to a phone, “if you need something, there’s an extension to call. Our security Alfred helps with assistance during the night and Carla is our chef in case you want to eat.” 

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” 

Michael rifled around a couple of drawers in the cupboard by the bed until he found a bit of paper and a pen. He wrote down the extensions carefully and then wrote a third number. “This one, this is the extension to my area of the house, feel free to dial that number if you would like to talk.” 

“Thank you… for all of this,” I said, shedding the warm blanket that I had still wrapped around me. “you’re even kinder than I thought, if that’s even possible.”

He just smiled.

“Being around someone who appreciates me…even likes me, is reward enough. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

His words were heartbreaking. I didn’t really know what to say. Without waiting for me to respond he continued, “have a good sleep, goodnight Malania.” 

“Goodnight, Michael. I hope you can sleep too.” He said nothing in reply and initiated a hug. I was surprised by it, but not put off. His body was warm and strong. His arms encircled their way around my shoulders, bringing me close against him. I rested my cheek upon his collarbone and closed my eyes. I felt his embrace tightening and I knew that my arms around his trim waist were also holding on just as firmly.

He was so comforting. I had hugged Michael many times over the years, but this was so different. This was more personal and more meaningful. He needed someone who understood his pain, and in that moment, that person was me.

The hug lingered for a few moments, but not for so long that it became a little awkward.

He let go of me, but I felt it was somewhat reluctant. He waved at me before letting himself out.

I looked around the room. It was quite sparse, but the bed was large and looked comfortable. There was an exposed brick wall behind the bed and a chest of drawers on either side of the oak bed frames. There was a large box-back television with a remote control by the bed.

Turning the TV on had been giving me anxiety attacks over the few days, so I didn’t bother turning it on. I hadn’t been able to sleep much and I was pretty sure Michael hadn’t been either. Instead, I took off my sweater and loosened my jeans. I turned off the lights and snuggled deep within the warm, weighted blankets. My head sank right down in to the pillow and I closed my eyes, hoping and wishing that Michael was going to sleep well.

I lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling reflecting upon my hour with Michael. He was smiles and cheer at some points, but I knew it was more for my benefit. I knew he was trying to be strong. Despite the weight of the world upon his shoulders, I was delighted to find that none of it had changed his kind spirit.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

It was very hard to sleep when I was so wired. Surprisingly though, I drifted off as I thought of our shared, warm embrace.

 

Right before I fell asleep, I made the executive decision not to share any of what had happened with Beth.

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