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Author's Chapter Notes:

This chapter is written from Diane's perspective :) 

Chapter 25

“Mommy, I don’t wanna…” Casey wined over and over, her tears flowing steadily as she kicked and thrashed around. I held her legs for the nurse while she tried to calm her down. I was a mess, I couldn’t stop crying. I hated to see my little girl so distressed.

“Sweetheart,” the nurse soothed her, “it’ll just hurt for a moment, just a prick.”

She was about to give up on my daughter. It was no use, Casey was tensed up and hysterical. The nurse let go and I did too. She turned to me and apologised.

I wiped my eyes and gave her a weak smile. Casey scrambled up and clung to me, wrapping her entire body around me threatening to never let go.

“Its okay my sweetheart…” I murmured. I kissed her temple and stroked the crown of her head. “Mommy’s sorry…”

They needed to draw blood and scan her body to see if the treatments were doing anything.

And then there was everything else on top of it. Neither of us were coping particularly well.

“I want Michael,” she sobbed. It was something I was used to hearing around a hundred times a day. I didn’t know how to explain to her that he wasn’t coming back, that he wasn’t going to be in her life ever again. It was heartbreaking enough that he wasn’t going to be in my life ever again.

“I know baby, but Michael can’t be here with us, remember, he is doing his concerts…” I explained.

“We’ll calm down a little bit and I’ll come back…” the nurse suggested. I nodded.

I paced the ward back and forth with my little girl until she exhausted herself.

I remembered how Michael did this job and it was hard to admit, but he did it better than I did. He dealt with tantrums and sobs and the crying with more patience than I could ever dream to muster.

I felt sick to admit it to myself, but I missed him. I missed him so unbearably and inside I felt an overflowing beacon of guilt. 

His calming presence was enough to make Casey calm down. He never showed his own distress when she was in pain or protesting with her tears. I remembered how he held her firmly one morning before surgery. She tried to fight him as the doctor neared them with a shot of local anaesthetic.

“Its okay my baby,” he soothed her softly, “look at me,” he had directed her over and over until she finally followed his gentle requests. He looked directly in to her eyes and told her to relax. “remember when it hurts, we count to five, one…two…three…four…five,” he reminded her of a coping mechanism that he’d taught her. They continued counting to five a few times over until she began to grow a little sleepy from the needle. “When you wake up from your sleep Mommy and Michael will be waiting for you…”

When Casey woke up from her surgery, Michael was there waiting. He was a pro at being able to lift her out of the bed without disrupting cords and machines. He held her in his arms and sang to her softly while I sat beside him feeling helpless and hopeless over my daughter’s illness.

While my daughter grizzled in my arms, I grieved for the loss of my friend, for the hurt and humiliation I felt. I wanted to be furious, I wanted to pick up the phone and scream down the line at him until I felt justified, but none of it made sense and it was all still surreal.

The man that had an unspeakable connection with my daughter; who he cited as his saviour had committed something so hateful, so sinful, dirty and depraved to my little girl.

None of it made any sense.

I couldn’t reconcile the man that I had shared in my bed with the type of person who would do something like that. I found it hard to look at my daughter some days. My skin crawled where his lips and hands had been on other days.

I wanted it to be an awful mistake.

I was constantly being reminded each day of everything I was doing wrong and I hated that I let Michael become such an involved part of her life; of my life.

I was the biggest failure as a parent, a woman and person.

And the worst part was that my daughter was slowly slipping away from me.

**

“We are going to get that sick, smiling scum,” the prosecutor promised me as he glanced at the newspaper on my dining room table. Michael was page two, nothing unusual, but my stomach churned to see the photos. I was a mixture of angry, heartbroken, betrayed and sad.

He had a stern look upon his face, one of stress and frustration. I knew those expressions well; to others it would seem rather stony and expressionless, but I’d seen it all before. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses as he held tightly on to a young woman who was shielding her eyes away from the attention they were receiving.

I felt uneasiness in the pit of my stomach; jealousy, perhaps.

Michael always wanted to take me to dinner, he would think up the most elaborate of dates, but I couldn’t ever seem to drag myself away from my daughter. I felt incredibly guilty each waking moment I spent without her.

I knew it sounded unrealistic, but the fear of being without my daughter amplified my guilt for leaving for any other reason but what was absolutely necessary.

Now that Michael’s absence was noticeable my bed, Casey slept beside me and tolerated just how overbearing I was as a mother.

How could his world keep turning when mine had stopped? How could he inflict such evilness upon my- our precious baby and still manage to live with himself.

None of it made any sense.

I drew in a deep breath and shrugged. I didn’t want to get him. I wanted answers, I wanted to know how he could possibly do those things. I wanted him to admit it, to tell me. But even if he were to admit it, I wasn’t sure I could ever truly believe it.

I remembered back to the hospital visit. My daughter had been complaining of burning when she went to the bathroom after our last visit with him. She cried all the time and complained of soreness. Eventually I’d taken her to the doctor expecting something simple; a side-effect, something new and different.

I wasn’t expecting to have to submit my daughter to an invasive exam that I once again, wasn’t able to provide comfort for.

When the doctor told me her findings, I immediately questioned her; something I was told not to do, but rather to let professionals do. “Honey who did this? Who hurt you?” I asked my daughter. She didn’t answer. “You can tell me, its okay…”

I asked her point-blank with nauseousness in the pit of my stomach, “Did Michael do this?”

Casey began to cry and repeated his name and I knew.

Social workers got involved and my little baby became less communicative. It was her coping mechanism. It was frustrating some days but given everything she had been through, it was expected that she would need to find a way to cope.

“Diane?”

“Hmm?” I looked up to find the DA, this one Don Sheldon staring back at me expectantly.

“I said, its important not to let his happy press games fool you. It is in Jackson’s best interests to make himself look like a happy citizen; someone who is still dating, its an effort to make himself look like a regular, hot-blooded male.”

I thought about the way Michael was with me. There was no way it could have been faked. At times I questioned the sexual attraction between us, but my mind was always in two places at once during his company that I knew any feelings and emotions I possessed couldn’t be trusted.

“That doesn’t worry me,” I replied stoically, lying to him and lying to myself.

“Good.”

“So, are you happy with everything?” Sheldon asked me. What a fucking question.

I blinked slowly at him and tried very hard not to snap. I knew he wasn’t trying to be hurtful or even offensive, but how the fuck was I ever going to be happy with everything? I lost the only man that ever loved me, I lost my daughter’s father, I lost my support, my friend—to another woman, no less, but more than that, I lost any last shred of confidence and faith I may have had in myself as a mother and a caregiver.

I’d essentially failed my daughter.

Again.

Yeah, fucking ecstatic.

“Sure,” I replied, nodding a tiny bit.

“There’s 5 charges, which they’ll go in to on the day, but you know them already, so don’t be too concerned, they’ll just be placed in to legal jargon.”

I felt numb. I didn’t care. I wasn’t worried. I was going to trust the law with what had happened to my daughter.

“Okay.”

I took in a deep breath. It was all beginning to overwhelm me. A part of me wanted to pull the plug but I knew my Mom would never forgive me. It had been a long time since she’d been back in my life, but I needed her, I had no one else. Despite her disdain for what I’d let happen to my daughter, she had been good in crisis.

She provided a place for us to stay where the media couldn’t find us. She shuttled us to and from the hospitals that were incredibly understanding of our situation but the digs about Michael were unending. My mother was a God-fearing Baptist these days and God, did I know about it.

I was horrible at standing up to her, especially when I was unsure or not as to if she was mistaken.

I remembered how incensed I was when she had told me that my daughter’s cancer was a product of a baby out of wedlock. Casey’s cancer was the punishment of sex before marriage – she’d said that just after I’d met Michael. He had consoled me and told me how evil it was to say; yet he defended that my mother was probably disappointed and heartbroken for me and needed someone to blame.

Still, that had been the last time I’d spoken to her up until I’d found out just what he had done to my little girl.

And how could I hold that against her? Maybe she was right; I had no idea what I believed anymore.

If I had my way I may have dropped the charges; but the DA explained that even if I did, they would have gone after him anyway.

I looked to my daughter playing in the corner of the room. Every belonging in our house had Michael’s DNA all over it, if not his DNA, then his heart. The furniture were things he’d paid for, even the small easy-bake kitchen set that my daughter was using was something he’d gifted her.

It all felt sleazy, but I had no money to replace any of it.

There was a sense of shame that came with being a kept woman. Some articles had reported that I was a gold-digger, edging for a piece of fame. Someone had even suggested that he had cut me off and this was my way of getting back at him.

Despite how hurt I was, despite how crazy, heartbroken and sick I felt by the whole thing, I kept worrying that I was wrong, that I could be ruining his life; and the clincher was that even if I wasn’t wrong, I still couldn’t bear the thought of ruining his life or being the central line to his hurt.

I knew that made me a terrible person but my internal conflict led me down a very dark path.

Some days I couldn’t even look at my daughter for the ideas and images that it conjured. I hated it, it was like bugs crawling over my skin; a black oily liquid that leaked its way in to my brain causing me to feel dizzy and my heart beat to twitch and skip.

I loathed myself more than words could ever convey.

No one was going to win from this; not Casey, not me, not Michael – no one. And I was going to slowly wither and die with guilt and heartbreak.

My daughter already had a head start.

**

I remember how we were told for the second time that there was nothing we could do for Casey. Together Michael and I moped for days, crying on and off. I couldn’t catch him looking at her for more than a week with dry eyes. He carried her around like a baby given that she was still recovering from the latest treatment.

He didn’t stop at that, he did so much research, personally contacted leading oncologists world-wide to see if there was something more we could do. Eventually we went to London on a three-day trip to meet with a world-renowned specialist.

After meetings and meetings, we found someone willing to try out different trial-stage drugs which my daughter thankfully responded to. It was nothing short of a miracle, but that was just the way of Michael’s life – he did seem to have a magic touch.

Or so I thought.

I didn’t understand how someone could possibly hurt a tiny, sickly little girl when it was obvious that he was always so deeply saddened by her pain.

**

“I can’t do this…” I murmured, rubbing my throbbing temples. “I’m not sure I can go through with this and face him.” My voice was small and sounded as weak as I felt. I’d regressed back to childhood for the moment, recoiling even before I’d given my parent the time to snap.

My mother whirled around. There it was, the look, the scathing, disgusted look. It was the same one she gave me when I’d given her the news that I was pregnant.

“Oh, you can’t do this?” she asked sarcastically, mocking sympathy. “Guess what, Diane, this is not about you, this is about Casey, this is about you reaping what you sow, your sinful choices brought about this punishment from the Lord and you will make reparations and redeem yourself in the eyes of the saviour.”

I exhaled. The house felt enclosing in on me. I didn’t want to be there. If I had somewhere to go to, I would have shot through.

I said nothing. There was no point. Nothing I could ever say would ever be the right thing.

As if sensing my distress, I felt the presence of my daughter behind me. She came to my side, her smiling little face bringing a tiny bit of light back in to my heart. “Mommy?”

“Yes baby heart…” ugh, even Michael’s cute nickname for Casey was haunting me.

“Mommy, I got this, look…” she pulled a teddy from behind her back. My eyes fell closed, briefly. I had to try hard not to let the tears well in my eyes. “Its Big M, Mommy,” she reminded me.

She held a brown bear that I’d tried so hard to hide, hoping that Casey would forget about.

We visited Michael in Hong Kong very briefly early in the beginning of his tour and he took us everywhere with him, taking time out to see the sights with us. It wasn’t something I was used to, but it had been weeks since we had seen him that we had all been so excited to be reunited.

He took us to some kind of carnival where he completely ignored everyone except Casey and I. It was sometimes hard for us to get his undivided attention in the public eye. We had security barricaded around us and since Casey wasn’t entirely well, he carried her everywhere. Hanging out with her favourite Michael was just the medicine she needed.

That stupid bear, he won it for her on a game of whack-a-mole. She took it everywhere with her, slept with it and called it ‘Big M’ at Michael’s joke urging. Every time I looked at it after we came back from Mexico, I was reminded of how our lives had all been ruined.

I remembered how we hugged the bear after Casey had gone to sleep that night. “This is the crappiest, stinkiest bear…” he remarked with a smile, “but I’m glad that Case loves it so much…”

I had laughed too. It was lumpy and ill-crafted, but it was a little bit charming. “Casey loves anything that you give to her.”

Michael was unlike any other man I had ever met. He was masculine when he needed to be, yet he was blissfully unaware that some of his behaviours would have been sneered at by anyone else that came in to contact with us.

He put the bear down beside him and waited for me to join him with the glass of wine that I usually had after dinner to help with my nerves. When we met, he used to try to talk me out of drinking, but he just chose his battles better after awhile.

“So… what do they think about her prognosis now?” he asked.

I took a sip of my glass of red and breathed a sigh. “Can we not… I don’-“

“Come on, sweetheart, talk to me… we can do this…”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what they think, Michael, I’m too scared to ask. I’ve just had enough, they keep telling us she’s dying but then she springs back and we have hope again—what’s the point in asking?”

I felt his hand covering mine. “Okay… well, how is she doing then? How’s her pain?”

“Okay, she doesn’t complain much, does she?” I asked with a bit of a smile.

“No, but she did say her tummy was sore earlier.”

“Well… that’s to be expected I think. Larry didn’t care much for the complaining last night either, I don’t think he has a lot of patience for her.”

Michael shrugged, “Larry is okay, he knows how it is and I think he kinda misses being a Dad.”

We left Casey with Larry for a few hours the night previous when Michael had decided to take me out to dinner. We waited for her to go to sleep, but when we arrived home she was up and crying and complaining about her tummy. The swelling had been up and down during that time, so she was clingy and whiny when she was in a bit of pain.

“I don’t know how a person can do this job he does for you and not go home to his children every night,” I replied thoughtfully.

“Oh,” Michael shook his head, “his ex-wife moved back to Spain where she was originally from and took their younger girls with them. He hears from them now and then, but his ex wouldn’t even let him visit while we were in Madrid.”

“I’m kinda glad that Casey’s father never got to even engage in her life; I’m sure it would have turned in to something messy like that.” I shook my head, “besides, that sorry ass would have turned and run the second she got her diagnosis.”

Michael lifted my hand and kissed it softly. “Well I’m not going anywhere… nor is big M.”

I cracked a smile. His silliness always made me feel better. He picked up the teddy again and handed it to me. “Give me a hug when I’m away… I mean, its no me, it’s not the real deal, but… it’ll be a close stand in.”

We shared a laugh.

I always had a deep affection for Michael and I loved him for everything he gave to our family; hope, love, comfort, friendship; but I wasn’t sure if it ever extended from that despite the fact that he could be terribly romantic and warm and inviting.

I was never quite let myself go and let things progress within my heart the way he did. There was something for me that never quite clicked in to place. I tried and I did love him, but I was sure that while my daughter was unwell, I was unable to give myself to him.

“Thank you, Michael, for all this… we really missed you,” I told him.

**

Casey drew me back to reality. “Honey, Big M isn’t feeling very well, why don’t you put him back where you found him.” I tried to sound as though I was doing her friend a service, but she wasn’t buying it.

“But Mommy, I looked everywhere for him.”

“Casey,” my mother butted in, “don’t you speak back to your mother, you go and put that bear back this instant!” Mom pointed out the doorway. Casey looked up at her grandmother, still unsure of the new presence in her life. She wasn’t used to being spoken to so sternly.

Her lower lip trembled and she looked to me for her authority.

“You have been too soft on this child. Rules and discipline are going to go a long way, and a spanking wouldn’t go astray; cancer or no cancer.”

I need to get the fuck out of here.

I could have climbed the walls to get away. I pushed my chair back and scooped my child up before she began to cry. I needed to pick my battles. Casey hugged on to that teddy bear so tightly that I knew it wasn’t worth it to try to argue it out of her arms.

“Mommy,” she began to whimper, “I want Michael.”

So do I…

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