Chapter Nine: I have faith in all you do…

Nobody was happy with me, least of all, Beth. I was in exile Michael Jackson fan community. I had been photographed and even filmed as the person leaving the Jackson family compound after they had found Michael’s whereabouts.

Really, they made Beth and I seem like masterminds. Michael at his parent’s house? Well, it wasn’t rocket science. I was surprised it took them as long as it did.

Michael had offered to call me a car service to get me back to the hotel where we had been staying but I said no. I knew Beth wouldn't be far away. I left the gates of Hayvenhurst, I saw her across on the other side of the road away from the dozens of film crews and photographers and fans; some that I knew of and some that I’d never seen.

Beth’s eyes fell on me and instantly I saw heartbreak and relief in one. I didn’t expect that she would have come back for me so early, but who was I kidding?

She probably wondered where I’d gone and then worried herself silly.

I felt awful. The camera men tried to talk to me, people kept shoving microphones in my face but I didn’t bother speaking to anyone. No one was going to get any cheap exclusives from me about Michael.

I slowly made my way toward Beth. She didn’t say much. She was leaning against her car that we’d been burning around in since we got back from Mexico.

Obviously she didn’t want to stay. Without a word to me, she slipped in to the drivers side and waited for me to get in to the passenger side.

I got in and we drove off.

It was an awkward and uncomfortable drive for a good fifteen minutes. I felt guilty and as though I’d betrayed her.

She looked tired. Her blonde hair was pulled back neatly but casually. Beth was so effortlessly beautiful that I found myself admiring her good looks on occasion with envy. I didn’t have particularly low self-esteem, but I was definitely not as good looking.

“So…” her voice trailed off as she looked over her shoulder before indicating to change lanes. I knew she wanted me to explain myself, but I felt annoyed; she was the one who left me in the middle of Encino on my own. She hadn’t even had the decency to let me know when she would return.

Then it dawned on me; I didn’t need to tell her the truth. She didn’t need to know that Michael and I had spent over an hour chatting the night before, or that he had come to see me in the morning. She only knew I had been inside.

“So I met Jermaine Jackson,” I promptly lied with a sigh.

I saw a bit of relief pass across her face. “Did you meet Michael?” she asked, “what was it like inside the gates?” she asked, and I knew all was okay with her because she was certain I hadn’t even seen Michael.

That part of her bothered me a great deal. I knew if a situation had been reversed, I would have been happy for her if she’d had a wonderful experience with Michael without me.

“No,” I lied straight up and didn’t even feel guilty anymore. “Jermaine invited me in out of the cold, he said Michael would hate to know I was there all alone, so he gave me a blanket and I sat in the security booth with the security officer all night… I didn’t get any further than that.”

I looked out the window, irritated. I still angry that she’d even left me, even though I should have been grateful, given the experience that I’d had.

“Wow, that’s pretty cool, how was Jermaine? Was he a slime?” we never had much time for Michael’s family. Some of us knew how he felt about them based on the very little comments he’d make that said more than enough.

“He was friendly enough, but still, I wouldn’t want to be in a room alone with him.” I replied bluntly.

Beth laughed, ignoring the tension. Since she’d figured out that I hadn’t had any dealings with Michael, she was no longer upset or hurt but almost joyful, light and free; but now it was my turn to have my say.

“Why did you leave me out last night?” I asked her. I never liked much confrontation, but I wasn’t afraid of raising an issue if I knew it would be detrimental later if I didn’t.

“I was exhausted,” Beth explained, “I just didn’t see how sitting there by the gate all night was going to make anything better.”

“There’s been times,” I pointed out, dragging all of my hair from the other side of me, over one shoulder, “where you’ve made me wait with you literally all night long in front of a hotel for Michael when we knew he was in bed asleep. Remember that time, when it began snowing?” It had been so freezing cold that we’d cuddled up for body heat. “And you begged me that you wanted to stay in case we missed something – and nothing happened, except that we froze.”

Beth sighed as if none of my references were anything akin to what she’d done to me.

“I never left you Beth, even when I thought it was a dumb idea…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you there. It was wrong,” she apologized, “if it helps, I didn’t sleep very well because I was worried, I was back there at 5 this morning and when you weren’t there I was scared something had happened to you.”

I shrugged. “I think when we get back to the hotel I’m going to go home. I’ve had enough, maybe you were right, Michael probably needs time without everyone waiting on him with baited breath; including us.”

Beth began to back peddle, apologizing profusely for hurting me, begging me not to go home but since I’d promised Michael I’d take care of myself, I figured it was probably for the best.

“Its okay, I’m not really mad. I just… I’m exhausted. I had a think about it all last night, I doubt we’ll be seeing him anytime soon” I explained, “and I want to see my parents. I need a hug from my Mommy.” I laughed.

My mother was the absolute sweetest lady in the world. When my Dad had been mad at me about deciding to follow Michael on tour, my Mom had simply said that she wanted me to be happy. I knew she didn’t approve, really, but she understood that traveling with my friend while happening to see Michael as well made me very happy. She also understood my life, what I had come from, who I was, and why I found whatever it was that I did within Michael.

For that, she loved him too. He was a bit of a life-giver to me. There were things about me that Beth wasn’t even aware of. We’d been best friends for a couple of years, but I think that was mostly because we traveled well together for the most part. We had Michael in common, but I was sure if we took him out of the equation, we’d struggle to find common ground.

Beth gave me a funny look. Her situation was different to mine. Her parents did not approve of her traveling for Michael, so she hid as much as she could from them. When we would travel abroad, she would make up some elaborate excuse. In fact, she had signed out of college about 8 months earlier and her parents still had no idea. They were still sending her grocery money for her dorm. I didn’t understand how she would ever think she could get away with it, but I tried not to judge.

“Okay,” she agreed, “when do you want to meet up again?”

“I dunno, I’ll give you a call.” I told her quietly.

We drove back the short distance to the hotel. There was still that strange tension between us but I ignored it and loaded up my own car that was still parked out the front of our room.

“Alright,” I told her, “I’m gonna get going.”

“Okay…” Beth’s voice trailed off. I felt a little bit bad that I wasn’t really offering her an explanation.

I gave her a hug which she held on to for just a little bit longer than usual. “Malania, I’m sorry I left you last night, that was really selfish of me…”

I smiled at her, “that’s okay, hey I got to meet Jermaine, remember…” I joked. We both disliked him especially the things he’d been saying in the media to try to defend his brother, insinuating that he could have been gay so as to take attention away from the fact that Michael allegedly molested a little girl.

I shuddered at the thought of the accusation. Such a crock of shit, I thought to myself, still reeling over it.

Beth managed a laugh, “howcome I feel like this is final, like you’re never going to see me again?”

I gave her a funny look, “don’t be silly, I’ll probably be back next week, I just want to go home, have a proper shower and sleep in my own bed.”

It wasn’t entirely true. I was planning on coming back in a couple days, but definitely on my own and I’d decided to mentally prepare to see Michael again and be some good company for him. I knew he needed it since he had a very apparent lack of support.

“Okay, drive safe…”

**

I felt so relieved to be home. I hadn’t bothered to let my parents know I was coming home.

I walked in the door, calling out to my Mama. I missed her the most when I was away. I was very close to her, given that I was the youngest of four children.

She came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sweetheart! My šećeru…” I felt the tearful smile fill my face as I came face-to-face with my Mama. Her greying hair was pulled back in to a bun behind her head. She was wearing a beautiful floral dress that she had hand made, gathered in at the waist with a pleated skirt.

She enveloped me in a warm hug as soon as she reached me in the foyer of our large, warm family home. My mother knew exactly why I was crying. She didn’t need to ask if I was okay, she knew I was devastated.

“Is Daddy home?” I asked when I’d calmed down. My Mama led me to the kitchen and pulled a chair out at the breakfast bar.

“No, no my beauty, Daddy is in San Diego for two days,” she explained. After 38 years in the USA, her accent was still as strong as it was the day she arrived from the former Yugoslavia.

My Dad was a businessman who worked in the tourism industry. He traveled from city to city and country to country working for a Japanese company. He and my mother were an unlikely match at first, but they were still together after 34 years of marriage and still seemed very happy and in love.

“Here, sit down, I’ll make you some tea and you tell me everything from your trip.”

It was nearing Easter which was a very special time in my mothers tradition. She spent a lot of time making seasonal cakes and savory food goods for family visits and for church celebrations. She had obviously been baking. I missed her cooking so much.

I had been gone for around a month, it was probably the longest I’d been from home in my whole life.

I knew that my Mama would understand my joys and heartbreak for Michael. “Mama, the most amazing thing happened to me last,” I admitted, feeling like my eyes would fall out of my head. I wasn’t even sure how I made the drive home so far without falling asleep at the wheel.

My Mama smiled at me, her grey-blue eyes sparkling. There was no more pure heart than my mothers. Perhaps I was biased, but I couldn’t think of a sweeter person besides Michael. “Tell me, draga…”

I was the baby of the family and perhaps the way my brothers and sisters treated me was the reason why my mother still babied me. Or, it could have just been that I had been through more than any of them could have ever known. Either way, my mother paid extra special care to me. I was the quietest, the most sensitive and probably the most like her deep down.

“Maybe I should sleep…” I told her, “I’m so tired… and I don’t know if I feel like talking…”

My mother laughed, when she did, the lines by her eyes showed, though with it was real joy. “You tease me… okay, you look like you need the sleep, your room is fresh for you, you are lucky, I washed all your bedding the day before yesterday, I had a feeling you might be home early.”

“Thank you Mama.” I replied, slipping off the stool at the breakfast bar. I came around to the kichen and hugged her again. I was just a little bit taller than she was. “I missed you so much, I am so glad to be home.”

“I miss you too, draga…”

I kissed her cheek and gave her a little squeeze before letting go.

“Volim tye…” she murmured.

“I love you too,” I grabbed my bag and headed up stairs to my bedroom. It was exactly how I left it. The sun was beating in through the windows, warming everything up nicely.

I dropped my bag down and pulled back my bed covers. I drew in a deep breath and flopped down. The softness of my mattress and the large, warm pillowy blankets made me realize just how uncomfortable sleeping in hotel rooms was. I did away with the cushions and slide beneath the covers, rolling over so my back was facing the window and buried my face deep within the pillow.

**

I woke up to yelling and shouting and felt an instant sickness in the pit of my stomach, an anxiety that had seemed to disappear for the months that I was gone quickly returned.

I sat up in bed, curling up, flinching away and waited with a frightening anticipation as I heard footsteps quickening up the hallway. I heard my mother following quickly behind, begging the person to leave me alone.

My door flung open and I was faced with a younger, more aggressive version of my father. “Get the fuck out of bed!! Who do you think you are?!”

“Please don’t.” I told him, feeling my eyes fill with tears quickly, realising what was about to happen. He dragged me from my bed, ignoring my mother’s pleas for him to stop.

“Get the fuck up out of bed! You need to grow the fuck up and get a job! How dare you shame us!” he yelled in my face loudly, “running around the world after a fucking paedophile!”

It was my brother. There was a long, awful history between us and just my presence angered him. I hated him. My hatred for him was deep, vile, toxic hatred that permeated through my bones from the crown of my head to the tips of my feet.

I had never fought him back. I had never dared to.

My mother grabbed his arm, yelling and crying for him to stop. He shrugged her away, almost sending her flying across the room.

I had nothing to really lose. With all my might and my strength in the other half of my body, I launched my half-closed fist at his face. My own force surprised me. I watched my violent, aggressive and predatory brother reel back a few feet. I knew if I stopped, he would retaliate just as forcefully so I kept on, not allowing him the chance to recover from my first blow. I kept hitting him, punching him, incapacitating him with a knee to the groin.

I hated him. I hated him for hurting my mother, I hated him for making my parents fear him. I hated everything he had ever done to me and for what he might have been doing to his own children.

I had never in my life stood up to him before, but I was tired of it. Tired of the fear, of the unprovoked attacks, the tears, the violence, I just wanted him never to return.

I saw that he was bleeding and began to calm down. He couldn’t move, I knew I had hurt him. He was left swearing at us in Serbian. I urged my mother downstairs with me, away from him before he began to gain some composure.

“Mama we have to go to the police.” I told her, as I rushed her toward the door. She protested, but she allowed me to direct her to my car. Cursing, I ran quickly back inside to grab my car keys. I could hear my brother coming down the stairs, picking up a bit of speed.

Shaking and full of adrenalin, I legged it back to my car and started the engine, reversing out of the driveway just as my brother got to the door. “Its okay, Mama,” I consoled my Mom. She was crying and upset.

“You can’t go to the police on your brother.”

“Mama,” I tried to be soft on her, the way she would have been on me, “why do you let him do this? He will be back, he will beat me, he doesn’t have a problem hurting you, he has done worse… please,”

She didn’t say anything. I took her silence as her approval. I drove us to a police station. My Mom brought it to my attention that I was bleeding from my a cut by my eye and I had a bruise forming where he had struck me. 

The police gave my mother a coffee while I lodged a statement. Mama was too scared to sign anything, but I didn’t care. The police offered to come back home with us to make sure my brother was gone. They suggested we change the locks so he would no longer have access and allowed me to apply for a restraining order.

I knew my mother was sad about that, but she didn’t deter me from doing so. There was only so many times in my life that I could allow him to hurt me or my family.

The only real reason he wanted me to get a job was to probably help feed his gambling addiction. He had managed to blow a large portion of my parent’s retirement fund on getting him out of trouble. They’d tried to warn him, tried to help him, but no. Whatever Samuel demanded, Samuel got. Usually with force and intimidation.

No more, I told myself, he was not worth dying over anymore.

**

I could only bear to stay home until my father got home. I didn’t want to leave my Mama, but after what had happened, I was so frightened of my brother coming back. And I was tired of hearing my mother beg me to revoke the restraining order.

I went back to Hayvenhurst. I wanted to see Michael. It had been two days since the very public statement he made that had reached every four corners of the globe. I hated that the world had been privy to him almost breaking down.

Since that day he had endured a photographed strip-search and more. All because of that awful person he used to call his friend. I remembered seeing her with him on more than one occasion. We had all been convinced that she was a girlfriend, but I wasn’t entirely sure that was the case anymore.

I remembered the night we met the little girl in question. Beth and I, and another fan had been waiting outside of a New York hotel til the wee hours of the morning.

Michael had arrived without Hargrove but he had the child in tow. She was wide awake after 2am, balancing on his hip. His car drove straight in to the hotel garage and the gates came down so that we couldn’t get closer to him. He told us to wait a moment and went to pass the blond child to a minder.

She began to cry and scream and beg for him. I remembered the moment that I was sure made my uterus expand. He cocked his head to the side, half-smiling at the little girl. “Casey,” he murmured, “come on, my little heart, I have to sometimes say hello to my friends, you know that…”

The little girl wouldn’t have a bar of it. I didn’t blame her. She held her arms back out to him. He chuckled and picked her back up from the minder. She instantly stopped crying, “okay, okay… you win.”

At no moment did he seem frustrated or bothered by her. He had all the patience in the world. He slowly advanced toward us, “its okay though, these girls are my friends too… I’m sure it will be okay for you to say hello too.” I knew what it was, it was almost a warning for us to keep our cool. Or at least, him letting us know he trusted us.

The garage gates came back up at his request. He invited us inside them to chat. He introduced us to Casey Hargrove. I think the other fan had asked where her mother was, or rudely why Casey wasn’t asleep.

“I’m looking after her til tomorrow morning,” he replied, dodging the question, “Casey is undergoing a clinical trial tomorrow for her cancer here in New York, that’s why we are here.”

The connection then made better sense to us. He was helping a family, as always. Casey lay her head upon his shoulder, encircling an arm around his neck. He cuddled her back warmly, looking like the most amazing, doting father.

**

When I arrived to Hayvenhurst, the media had somewhat retreated. There were still camera vans and anchors waiting, but not even half as many as there had been when I’d left earlier in the week. I recognized a few fans and wondered how on earth I was going to be able to speak to the security guard without being seen. Or, if maybe Michael had just been polite when he said he would see me again.

I waited in my car with some food that my Mama had packed for me. I listened to my Walkman for awhile and kept to myself. When it got dark most of the camera crews left for the day.

I wondered if perhaps Michael had left Hayvenhurst to go elsewhere. I knew from photos that Elizabeth Taylor had arrived a few days earlier, so maybe there was no room for my support anymore. He probably didn’t need me.

At around 9pm, the last fan left. Pulling a jacket over my shoulders and tying up my long dark hair in to a half-hearted ponytail, I made my way to the gate. I knew that there was a good chance the security guard wouldn’t even bother putting my message through to Michael.

I pressed the intercom and allowed it to buzz. I’ll bet that other journalists and fans had been doing that all day long.

A few moments later I heard a bored sounding voice answer. “Hello, how can I assist you?”

“My name is Malania Nakamura. Mr. Jackson asked me to let him know when I return.”

“I don’t think he is taking any visitors right now.” The guard replied. I knew from his voice that he was the same guard as before. Alfred, his name was.

“That’s okay, I was here about three or four nights ago, he gave me a card and told me to call Alfred… is that you?” I asked, trying to sound confident rather than a dorky fan.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I understand if he isn’t taking visitors, but if you could just please allow him to know I’m here if he wants to see me, otherwise I may come back tomorrow.”

“Sure, I’ll pass your message on.”  

I thanked him and decided to wait on the bricking where I had been last time I visited. At least I was better prepared this time. Over the days I was at home, I had mentally prepared for the things I would say, gestures I would make and how I wouldn’t let it get awkward.

I relayed the whole evening back to my mother who promised not to share the information with another soul, not even my father. She made me promise in return to not get my hopes up or fool myself in to thinking that someone like me could be married off to a man like him, especially given what a vulnerable state he was in.

I promised her without any issues. I wasn’t that deluded.

She had given me home made cakes and biscuits to take with me to gift to Michael and his family. It was a little embarrassing but that was just my mother’s culture.

I sat for a bit longer and listened to my Walkman before I noticed the gates opening. I didn’t get my hopes up. I remained seated, it could have been anyone coming or going.

“Malania?” a tall, black man emerged from the gates, looking around. The journalists rushed him. Someone quickly jumped ahead of me, “I’m Malania!” she jumped ahead.

“Um no,” I cleared my voice, “I’m Malania.” Before Alfred could respond, the journalist tried to nudge me out of the way. I was shocked but not surprised. Alfred glanced at the journo and then back at me.

Finally he smiled at me, “I remember you, please follow me.”

I said nothing but couldn’t help giving the liar behind me a small, satisfied smile.

Once the gates closed Alfred began to grill me. “Mr. Jackson wants to see you. I need to see the contents of your bag and you’ll need to sign a confidentiality waiver.”

“No problem,” I said. I placed my bag down and allowed him to go through it. Once he was done he asked if I had a vehicle.

“Okay, I’ll let you back outside, bring your vehicle inside the compound. The media will begin to do things like run your plates to find out who you are, and we want to protect Mr. Jackson’s friends as much as we can and keep his guest list out of the spotlight.”

I did as I was told after signing the waiver. I went back outside and started my Honda and watched the gates open and couldn’t help but to smile as Alfred warned the media to get out of the way so that I could come through. I drove in and stopped so Alfred could check out my car.

Once he was satisfied he told me to follow the driveway as far up as I could until I came to the driveway of the main house. I couldn’t lie, I felt a little bit excited. He told me Michael would meet me there.

I thanked him and made my way slowly ahead, trying to compose myself so that I was calm. I slowed down to a stop when I saw Michael standing out front of the home, looking a little bit awkward.

This time he wore some black, loose-fit cotton pants and a white t-shirt. His thin arms stuck out of the sleeves and I couldn’t help but to worry about the weight he had lost.

He looked incredibly unwell.

I wound down my window. He made his way over to the car and waved hello. “Thanks for coming back…”

“As if I wouldn’t…” I joked, sensing both our shyness. “Is it okay to park just here?”

“Absolutely… just here next to my car.” I noticed the stark difference between his and my car. His looked brand new. I didn’t even consider that he drove. Sounded stupid, but I didn’t expect him to even own a car. But yes, it was a large, black gaudy Chrysler with dark tinted windows and overall made my car look like a mini. I got out, taking my bag too. I almost chickened out of taking the food my Mama had given to me, but when I realized how thin he was, I figured if there was a chance he would eat, I should try to encourage him to take it.

“How are you?” he asked, hugging me tightly as though we were old friends. It was as though our relationship had instantly transitioned from fan and celebrity to friends.

I felt blessed.

“I’m good thank you, but I should be asking you.”

“I’m alive,” is all he responded with. He offered to take my large handbag for me, but I was afraid that he was as weak as he looked.

“Come on, its getting a bit chilly outside, would you like to come in?” I knew it was a big step for him to invite a fan in to his family’s home, so I was honored. I nodded my head and followed him to the door. He opened it first and gestured for me to enter first.

“Welcome,” he murmured.