Chapter 17:

“Come on,” Luke smiled at me, “come and shoot some hoops with your brother and I!”

It wasn’t often my brother’s friend paid me attention. He was cute, star of the school basketball team and more importantly, interested in someone like me. Quiet, studious and dorky. It was a fifteen-year-old girl’s dream.

Samuel protested angrily. He swore at me and told me in no uncertain terms to get lost. It was a little humiliating. I watched him punch his friend aggressively for even merely suggesting my company.

Samuel wasn’t well-loved, it was more like he was well feared. He was cruel to just about everyone but mostly my mother and I.

The more attention Luke paid to me, the more furious my brother became. I wasn’t sure if it were jealousy or if it was his strange way of trying to protect me, either way, it was awful.

On my way home from school one day, it began to smash down with large, hard raindrops. I put my school bag over my head and began to hurry home. A car pulled over and I was pretty sure the angels sang as Luke leaned over and opened the passenger side door. “Hop in!!” he said hurriedly, “you’re going get saturated, I’ll take you home.”

Grateful for the ride, I jumped in. He smiled at me. “Awful outside, isn’t it?” he asked me.

I nodded. I was extremely shy, but nevertheless, I was happy to be in his company. He was so cute. He was tall, black and handsome with the loveliest light brown eyes. I knew he was kind, I could tell by all the times he’d look at me empathetically after my brother gave me a serve, or the times that he’d smile at me in the halls and say hello. I liked that he never introduced me to his friends as Samuel’s sister. We both knew why he didn’t do that.

“Yeah… thanks for stopping.”

“No biggie,” he grinned, “say, do you wanna come hang out and get ice cream or something til this rain stops?”

I chuckled giddly, as if ice cream was going to be the logical thing to have while waiting for the rain to peter off.

“Sure…”

My Mom wouldn’t worry, generally I stayed back after school to work on homework or to study, she wasn’t usually expecting me home immediately. My Dad was away as usual and my siblings had their own lives.”

“Cool. How was your day today? I saw you waiting outside the Science block after lunch, how was Mr. Matthews today?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

I shrugged. I didn’t want to sound like a dork, but I loved my science teacher. He was fun and I liked the practical sides of our lessons. “He was okay,” I replied.

We made small talk but it wasn’t long before it came to the topic of my brother. “What’s his problem anyway?” Luke asked me point blank.

I laughed at his bluntness. “I don’t know, he’s just angry. I’m not sure why.”

“He’s really awful to you, to everyone really, but it feels like he’s incredibly mean to you.”

I shrugged again, “He’s always been that way, don’t worry about it.”

We had a little bit of fun. I knew there was no chance in hell Luke would ever want to date me. I was too young and he was too cool, but I liked talking to him. He was nice to me. There were no other guys at school who would think to open doors for me or who would put their letterman jacket over me so I didn’t get wet in the rain.

We both knew that if Samuel found out we were on casual speaking terms he would bust his nut, not to mention if anything more came of it. However, it became tradition that on the days that he didn’t have basketball practice with Samuel, he drove me home or we hung out for a short while before I made him drop me off one block from home so it never became an issue.

Goodness knows it was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Malania?” Michael prompted me softly.

“Yeah?” I glanced up, “sorry, what did you say?”

“I said—we should probably start heading back,” he urged me.

We drove a little silently back to Neverland. I couldn’t help but feel sad about the things he’d told me nor could I forget the way he had confidently told me that when he shared his secret, I’d be able to share mine.

Realistically, there was no way I’d ever be able to speak the words. I would never be able to tell him how I felt for all the shamefulness that the secret left me with.

“Michael,” I began as we got up and began walking back to the car, “I don’t think I can ever tell you…”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“My secret… so, if you never share yours with me, that’s okay.” I admitted. He gave me a sympathetic smile and put an arm around me. He gave me a little squeeze and to my utmost surprise I felt his lips against my temple.

I shivered and probably could have burst in to tears with gratitude, but instead I managed to hold my shit together.

“Its not a requisite of friendship. You’re allowed to keep some things to yourself. There are things that I don’t think I could ever share with anyone else again, either, so I don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

I didn’t say anything and he didn’t let go of me. I liked that, I felt protected. I picked up that my new friend Michael was a fiercely protective and loyal friend.

“Keeping things inside though, it can get alienating and lonely. And you know, I am one of those people with first hand experience in knowing what its like to be judged for … everything,” he continued as we neared the car, “and in turn that’s made me the least judgmental person that I know.”

I smiled, “you have that on good authority, do you?”

He returned the smile, “yes, I do…”

We stopped before the car, lingering for a moment before we got in. “If you ever decide you want to get it off your chest – whatever it is, I’m here and I’m not going to judge. You could even write it down or… you could close your eyes and tell me. Or, I could face the other way…” he smiled, “friendship is two ways – that’s always important to me, to be able to give just the same as I take…”

“Yeah well it sounds like you give more than you take,” I murmured.

He shrugged.

I sighed, “okay, lets hit the road.”

“You drive though, I don’t think I can handle it,” he laughed.

“Okay, but you’re going to be driving more often when we do this.” I told him, giving him hope that he could disappear with me in to regularity whenever he wanted.

Michael fell asleep on the way home. He seemed to become more tired as the night progressed. I was happy that he was sleeping, he hadn’t looked like he’d seen a lot of it recently. I turned the radio on softly and sang along under my breath.

I felt alarmed when I started down Figueroa Mountain road. I saw press trucks, I saw streams of cars and traffic behind me. For a particularly deserted road, I knew something had gone wrong.

As we neared Neverland, I reached over to Michael and touched his arm. “Michael, wake up…”

He jolted awake, almost surprised to find that he was in a car. “What’s up?”

“I think the media found you…” I murmured, “look at all the cars,” I pointed out.

“Shit…” Michael murmured, “what do we do? I don’t want them to see your car.”

I pulled over. “You’ll need to get in the back, I don’t care if they see my car. I don’t want them to see you. Get in the back and put the blanket over you.”

He didn’t need much convincing. He climbed in between the two front and got in the back. He covered himself over and I pulled back on to the road and headed to Neverland.

“Malania, you’re going to need to speak to Alfred, you’ll probably need to get out.”

“Oh my God….” I murmured. There was a conclave of fans and media, all surrounding the gates of the premises. I knew I couldn’t avoid being photographed or filmed. “How did they find out…” I asked rhetorically.

I drove up as close as I could. “Start beeping the horn and get as close as you can to the gate.”

I did as he directed and made sure my car was close to the intercom and also the security shack. I put the car in neutral and prayed that no one would try to get in and go through our things and find Michael.

“Malania!” I heard a voice call, I knew it was Beth from behind the wall of journalists. I pretended not to hear. I went up to the security gate and pressed the buzzer. Alfred appeared immediately and gave me a wave.

I quickly made my way back to the car, keeping my head down the whole way. I got in the car and saw the gates opening inward and drove on inside. The flash bulbs from the cameras had been absolutely blinding. I had been in situations with Michael before where the press had been afoot, but it was nothing like this.

People had been yelling questions at me both fans and media. I had ignored them all. I was scared about what impact it might have on me, but I chose to just block it out.

Once inside, I called back to Michael. He was already sitting up in the backseat as we drove the rest of the way to the car spot I’d taken up earlier in the day.

My whole body felt tingly from the experience. Not the good kind, the kind that disallowed me from recovering too quickly. I just sat as he got out. I had to gather myself. Michael waited for a moment but realised I wasn’t getting out in a hurry. He came to the driver’s side and opened the door for me. I was still shaking.

“C’mon, let’s go on inside,” he held his hand out to me.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” I told him, ignoring his hand. I wasn’t even sure if my jelly legs could have moved.

“Okay,” he replied softly. “Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?”

“I’m okay.” I said simply. I drew in a deep breath and exhaled. I did my best to regain my composure. “Here… we left all this…” I reached over to the floor of the passenger side and handed him his Cheetos and Yoohoo. He managed a smile and took them from me. He held out his hand again and this time I let him help me up.

“I’m sorry about all of that, I really wanted to avoid exposing you to it all,” he apologised as I locked the car and followed him inside.

“Its okay… how do you think they found out?”

“Well… the guy at the store… I’m pretty certain he recognised me. That was my fault, though… I’m sure we will find out.”

I wasn’t convinced, but he had been in the game longer than I had.

Michael made a few phone calls once we got in and then we went and hung out in an entertainment room. I was sure he was stressed out too.

“Do you need to call home or anything?” he asked me. I shook my head.

We sat down and watched another movie. It was quiet and easy. Neither of us said much, both still reeling from our close call.

“I feel like I shouldn’t have convinced you to leave the house, I’m sorry, this is probably my fault,” I told him finally.

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, it would have happened either way eventually. I’m safe here, don’t be concerned.”

I knew what he meant. Neverland certainly was great for shutting the world out.

A little while later, the doorbell went off. As if he had been expecting someone, he got up, “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said. He disappeared for a short time. I was getting ready to go and look for him when he reappeared with a smile on his face.

“Everything okay?” I asked him, wondering if he had been delivered any unsettling news about the media and fans camping outside of the property.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” he replied with a reassuring smile. I wanted to ask who it was at the door but it wasn’t really any of my business.

He sat down for a moment. I saw his foot tapping as if he was distracted. Quickly, he jumped back up and headed to one of the large, ceiling-high book shelves that lined the room. “Do you read?” he asked curiously.

“Can I read?” I asked with a half-smile, “Sure, I can.”

He didn’t get the joke, he stared at me blankly, “No, I mean, do you ever read for fun?”

“Yeah, I do, actually.”

“Great… here, this is my favourite book,” he told me pulling a thick book out of the bookcase. “I think you’d like it.”

I was a little confused. He opened it to a random page. “Listen to this, its so good…” he began, making his way to the television to turn the volume down, “Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.”

He read with such earnest. He flipped a few pages and read silently for a moment before shaking his head, absorbed with the book that obviously meant a lot to him, “And this, this,” he started again, “The price of being understood, he thought. They call you the devil or they call you God.”

He sighed, “Jeez, ain’t that true…”

“What made you think of the book?” I asked him.

He shrugged before closing it again. “I think of this story all the time, I must have read it more than one hundred times. It makes me feel better about being so different, maybe you’d like it too.”

He handed it to me, “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” was the title. It seemed a bit dumb, but when Michael Jackson offered you a book, only an idiot would turn it down.

“Thanks, I’ll read it, I promise.”

“Great… what’s your favourite book?” he wondered, “I bet I have it, I have so many books...”  

I thought for a bit while he sifted through some others. “Its hard to choose, but… there’s something that I read through college, its called ‘Round Blue Pegs In The Squarest Skies’”

I knew the title alone piqued his interest. He turned to me, holding a book in his hands as he paced back and forth over the books, “what’s it about?”

“A kid that doesn’t fit in and the way that she sees the world isn’t the same as everyone else. She has a sincere heart and she has this wonderful artistic talent and it makes her come alive. No one really gets it. She just goes about her business from the outside of life happening around her, looking in as a spectator and feeling incredibly alone.”

“Did it resonate within you?” he asked gently.

“Yeah… I suppose so. I think just the part where she felt different, she was treated different, but nobody could quite place the part of her that differentiated her from everyone else…”

“Some people just don’t belong in society,” Michael replied with a sigh, “but those people, Malania, those are the ones who are destined to do amazing things.”

I laughed, “I don’t know about that…”

“Well, I haven’t seen your art yet, I bet you are probably a prodigy. A quiet, shy, talent who has no idea how amazing it is.”

“Alright, alright, calm down, I’m no Picasso.”  

“Well, I wouldn’t know, you’ve never shown me your art work,” he remarked.

I shrugged. “Maybe one day if you’re lucky.”

He sank down beside me and seemed a little jittery. I couldn’t quite place it. His mood had definitely swung. “Tell me more about your book.”

“The protagonist is called Penelope and at first she gets teased and picked on because of her name-“

“No, no, no…” he interrupted, “your book, your story.”

I rose my eyebrow, “You know it all. I’m a weird cross-breed of Serb and Japanese, I have a sister and two brothers… My mum spends her life baking. My Dad is a retired pilot who works in tourism now…”

“No…” he shook his head again, “tell me the truth about you, I’m not interested in how many people make up your family or what your parents do…I want to know about you, you told me this book is your favourite cos it resonates in you…”

“I really don’t know what you want me to tell you,” I replied.

He got up and paced, throwing his hands in the air, “I don’t know, what were you like as a child? Did you have many friends?”

“I was quiet and shy. I read a lot and I didn’t have many friends. My Mama and I used to spend a lot of time together.”

“What changed?” Michael asked. He was making me giddy going back and forth.

“What do you mean, ‘what changed?’ can you sit down? You’re making me feel dizzy.”

He said fell back beside me. “You said you and your Mom used to spend time together, what changed? Why don’t you spend time with her now?”

How did I tell him that while I loved her, I also pitied her which made me angry. Maybe though, maybe that was my fault.

“I grew up.”

“I bet your Mom was sad…I can only imagine how it would feel if my child grew up and didn’t want to spend time with me anymore…” I could tell a little bit of bitterness overcame him.

“Michael, is Casey Hargrave your daughter?” I asked him point-blank. I had been wondering. She didn’t look a thing like him, but my sister, Anica, looked absolutely nothing like my father.

He shook his head, “No…I wish.”

Once he shook the fog of bitterness, he turned the conversation back on me. “Why are you so closed off?” he asked. He seemed as though he was a bit annoyed with me.

I was a little surprised. “Honestly?” I asked him in disbelief. “Michael, I have no idea what you want to hear. I can tell you what you want to hear if you’d like, but you need to tell me that…”

He frowned and shook his head, “I’ve invited you in to my life and I still don’t really know anything about you… You show me these little hints of your heart and then you shut it down, its exhausting.”

I rose an eyebrow, hurt. “Fine then, I’ll go. I don’t want to exhaust you.”

“No!” he shook his head. “You wrote me this beautiful little letter and gave me an olive branch. You told me you cut because of something that happened—you told me it was a secret which is fine, but… not anything.”

“Fine!” I exclaimed, “I was quiet and shy and then I got a sort-of boyfriend who happened to be my brother’s friend. My brother found out and beat the absolute shit out of him and almost ended up in juvie, but my Mom defended him and blamed me for antagonising the situation. My parents fought like crazy over it, but in the end she won and Dad forked out the ridiculous money for his defence and he got off.”

Michael ignored the fact that I was speaking fast and was obviously upset by his constant pushing me. “Whoa, how badly did he hurt your boyfriend?”

“He nearly killed him,” I replied.

“And after that, all his aggression was directed at me and my Mom tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. My Dad was too busy traveling and working to know what the hell was going on—and it made she and I grow apart. And then the thing that is my secret happened and I wanted to die because nobody could protect me.”

“I’m sorry, Malania.”

“Whatever… there you are, now you know. Does that help?” I asked frustratedly.

“It helps me understand you,” he replied.

I was a little bit taken aback by his selfishness. “I’m glad your understanding far outweighs your concern for my personal discomfort,” I told him. My face was growing hot with emotion and anger. “I think I should go…”

“Why?” he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

“Why?” I questioned him with a raised eyebrow. He stood up when I did, seeming a confused.

“Yes… you don’t have to leave, I just wanted to talk, get to know you…”

“Let’s not kid ourselves,” my emotions took over as sometimes they had the habit of doing when I was angry or hurt, “if you weren’t in this predicament, Michael, you wouldn’t have given me the time of day. You wouldn’t have wanted to see me privately, you’d have waved and smiled and walked right past me…”

He didn’t argue but he looked hurt as I had felt just minutes earlier. I grabbed my bag, leaving the bag full of treats we had bought earlier. I placed the book of his that I’d been holding down on the couch. “You better keep it, I don’t know if or when I’ll be back…”

I started past him down the stairs. He followed me without a word.

When we got to the landing, he seemed to grow upset. “Wait…” he stopped me.

I wanted to keep on walking because I was afraid that if I stopped to look at him or to hear him out, I’d change my mind and my hurt would dissolve in to sympathy and by doing so, I’d allow this man permission to talk to me or demand whatever he wanted from me.

“What is it?” I asked without turning around to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry…” he apologised, “for making you talk. It was wrong of me to push you in to telling me private things.”

Slowly I felt myself weakening. I turned around to face him. He looked sad. Every now and then he’d lose his sprite and retreat back in to his melancholy that enshrouded him. He tried hard to hide it in my company, but I saw it all behind his eyes.

“Its okay.”

“Can I show you something?” he asked me sheepishly.

I was unsure if I wanted to agree to anything with him. I feared when he lost interest in me and if his life went back to normal the hurt was going to be too unbearable.

“Okay,” I replied meekly.

He motioned with his hand past the stairs and down a hallway behind it to a part of the house he’d yet to take me through. “My room used to be upstairs, but we changed things around when…” he paused, “well, I’ll just show you.”

I was a little bit panicked by the idea of him taking me in to his bedroom but I swallowed my stupid fear and realised that wasn’t what he was trying to do. He stopped suddenly in front of a closed door that was almost at the end of the hall.

He turned the handle and opened the door. He flipped the light on and stepped inside.

I was surprised. It was a little girl’s bedroom. Everything was a soft pastel shade of pink. The bed was a large single white bed complete with a pink canopy. The walls were pink, the bedding was pink, there was a doll house and toys scattered on the floor as though there was still a child that lived in it.

“This is where Casey lived…” he admitted.

“Until when?” I asked, surprised, “you mean, full time? She lived with you?”

He nodded. “Until about 5 weeks ago… I guess.”

“Just here with you? Where was her Mom?” I asked curiously. I had so many questions which momentarily placed my hurt on hold.

“She lived here too.”

“Diane wasn’t just your friend…” I murmured quietly, only loud enough for him to hear.

“No,” he shook his head, “no she wasn’t. We never quite put a name to it, but… we were definitely more than friends. Casey was as good as my own little girl.”

I was a little surprised by his honesty.

“I didn’t ever think it were possible for someone that I loved so much to have been able to hurt me to the extent she has.”

“The ones that we love always hurt us the worst,” I pointed out. “It hurts the most because of how much effort, love, time and emotion we put in to them.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about something that I knew bothered you. I appreciate that you were honest, so I wanted to be honest with you too.”

“Thanks…” 

He took a step in to the room and looked around before sighing. “I’m just used to everyone telling me everything about themselves, people want me to know them inside out… they see me as a saviour I think, I’m not used to having to really work hard at getting to know a person.”

I just stared at him before shrugging, “Sorry that I’m not like everyone else you meet.”

“You might have been right upstairs about me not taking the time to befriend you if situations were different… but, maybe if your situation was different you wouldn’t turn up to see me, or we’d never have crossed paths at all… so even though there’s some merit to it, it doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re important or that I don’t care about you.”

“Okay…” I breathed in deeply, “But… I don’t want to be the person who’s around only because you don’t want to be alone.”

“Trust me,” Michael told me with a small reassuring smile, “Even though I don’t like being lonely, I don’t actually mind being alone and I’d rather be alone than in company that I don’t really want.”

“Okay,” I said again.

“So, please don’t leave… Instead lets go watch Alf or Cosby Show reruns and eat Cheetos and chocolates…”

I finally smiled. That actually sounded pretty good to me.