Chapter 44

I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I hadn’t spoken to Michael for four days and he was relying on updates on my state of mind from Kaito. I didn’t even want to see my parents or my sister. Kaito came to sit in with me some afternoons. He didn’t press me for conversation; he just kept me company. 

Since Michael couldn’t speak to me, he sent me flowers and a basket of things to cheer me up that he had put together himself to cheer me up. A couple of books, some rose-scented soaps, some junk food and another song.

I needed to see him to let him down easy. I couldn’t just continue to ignore him. It was going to kill me to let him go, but I couldn’t stand to face my fears; I couldn’t stand to tell him later that things weren’t going to work out.

It wasn’t him, it was me. It sounded like a stupid cliché, but it was rang loud and true. I was far too damaged for him and I wasn’t even sure I could ever be fixed.

Julia tried to console me but I didn’t even want to get out of bed, not until I decided I at least owed him an explanation in person.

Then the hard part; I had to convince Raia that I was in an acceptable mind frame for the day release that still hadn’t been approved ‘cos I had refused to see her.

The appointment wasn’t exceptionally eventful. I sat in the couch as usual and declined to answer anything in any great depth.

Had I thought much about my discussion with Michael?

Had we had any discussions regarding the therapy session?

Why did I feel it was so important to see him?

What did I think could be gained by going on a day release visit over a regular inpatient visit?

It was all so tedious. In the end, I pointed out that Michael had proved himself, it was really just me who was the one who struggled. I told her I needed to meet with him to talk face to face without feeling like we were constricted to time or the confines of space.

Surprisingly, Raia agreed.

My day release was approved. I had called Michael and he had jumped at the opportunity to come pick me up. I could tell in his voice that he was relieved and pleased to hear from me which hurt. I knew it would break my heart to hurt him.

I waited nervously as if I were walking a plank. Carsen arrived for me while Michael waited in the car. He had to sign some documents in the admission office.

I could see Julia peering out at me longingly. She waved when we caught eyes. I smiled at her, she was my biggest supporter inside the confines of the treatment centre. The night earlier she forewent art classes to hang out with me even if I didn’t feel like talking.

We watched TV together. It was nice to just have the presence of someone with me.

Carsen led me to the car and opened the door for me. As I got in, I glimpsed Michael and my heart skipped a beat and my breath got caught in my throat. He looked beautiful. In fact, stunning.

Michael looked shower fresh and smelled amazing. His damp hair fell to his shoulders and he wore a pair of black dress pants, a yellow button down shirt and a black fedora on his head.

He flashed me a grin.

Ugh.

I almost burst in to tears right there. He scooted closer to me and tried to kiss me on the lips. He didn’t immediately understand that things weren’t okay. He hugged me and I hugged him back, but it was polite and I drew away as quickly as he had embraced me.

He didn’t seem to notice at first.

“What are we doing?” he asked, “we can go back to my hotel for the day?”

“Sure, okay,” I answered. I felt him slip his hand into mine without a word. He eyed me for a moment and I instantly knew he had picked up that something wasn’t right.

He didn’t say anything, but his body went a little rigid. He didn’t let go of my hand, but he loosened his grip and stared straight ahead almost coldly. I should have been relieved, but instead it just made me feel worse.

It felt like the longest drive to the hotel, but it was only a few minutes. We got out and shifted wordlessly through a backdoor and up the room service lift. He and Carsen led me to the top level and into his suite.

It was huge. He could have set up camp and lived there. Well, it looked like he had. It was messy and cluttered with lots of his belongings—mostly books. There were so many books on one side of the room that I wasn’t sure what he planned on doing with them.

“Thanks Carsen,” Michael interrupted my thoughts, leaving his bodyguard at the door. He closed it and turned to me. Still without a word he took a seat on the couch as I walked around, taking in my surroundings.

“You know,” he began, his voice was soft and even, “I waited for you to call me all week. I have been sitting here, going insane over you and trying to piece together just what it was that I did wrong…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Michael…” I told him daring to meet his eyes. They were dark and broody. I half expected him to be angry, but he just looked a little broken and I hadn’t seen that look since before I was hospitalised

“Why do I feel like you’re coming here to tell me that you never want to see me again?”

I slowly found my way around the room and back to the seat next to him. I sighed.

“And…” he sighed too, leaning back in the couch with a bit of shock, “you’re not even going to deny that that’s why you’re here…”

“Michael,” I began. He didn’t look at me. He stared at the ceiling frowning and looking angry and sad both at the same time. I didn’t think that anything could have upset me more than when he let go of himself after the arraignment. This was different though, this was directed at me. I was causing this. “Michael,” I tried again. 

My voice was cracking and I knew I was ready to cry. “You are the best.” I told him, “you are good, so, so, so, so good.”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, “don’t list these thin-veiled personal traits and end it with you telling me you’re not interested, that’s not fair. I’d rather you just say what you need to say and leave me alone.”

I was surprised by the sudden chill in his voice. I’d been wrong, it was easier when he was sad.

“Michael I can’t do this… I can’t, and that therapy session made me see it. Its not fair to you”

He shot up and held his hands over his face. My heart jumped to my throat when I noticed a long cut on his wrist. He’d been harming. “Michael, I don’t want to hold you back…”

“Stop making my own decisions for me!” he shouted back at me, finally losing his cool. I wasn’t expecting it and cringed slightly. “Everyone always makes my decisions for me!” he spat, “and I’m tired of it! If I want to be with you, then I should be allowed to be with you if that’s what you want, too.”

“But—“

“But nothing!” he came close, getting in to my personal space, “You have issues, I have issues, so fucking what, Malania, welcome to adult life! You teach me and I teach you – we’ve both had shit upbringings, we’ve both had shit things happen to us, but you don’t get to decide what’s good for me.”

He had tears filming in his chestnut eyes and I realised he was on edge. I shrunk away a little, frightened of him getting so close when he was so mad.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I told him meekly.

He threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t want to hurt me?” he asked as if he disbelieved it. “Well then why the fuck are you here saying these things to me?”

I looked at my hands. He crouched down in front of me and I couldn’t help but to flinch as I was struck by a memory of my brother. I didn’t really expect that Michael may hurt me, but there was a tiny part of me that had been burned by previous experience. I felt the softest touch on my arms. I held my face in my hands, burying them so that I didn’t have to see his anger.

“Malania,” he began gently, “please don’t do this to me… okay?” I dared to look at him and saw that he was tearful. It broke my heart.

I didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to be intimate with me. I will wait as long as it takes, and if it doesn’t ever happen, I don’t even care.” I knew it was his heartbreak talking, but nevertheless I let him continue,

“You’re my best friend, I’m all alone and I’m waiting for you and I need you. You’re the only person I’ve ever told all of this to, I trust you… and” he paused. His eyes fell closed and I watched tears fall from the corners of his eyes, streaking their way down his cheeks.

That was it for me; I couldn’t stand to see him that upset. I couldn’t hold my tears in.

“Please,” he begged, “I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to be this man… but I need you.”

I wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands. “I’m so scared that I will fuck this up…” I cried, “I don’t want you to look back at me the same way you look back at Diane; realising that this was a giant mistake.”

“The mistake was falling in love with the idea of a family. A mistake isn’t falling in love with someone who is in love with me, too.”

I wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did know I loved him. Loving him as a fan was different, loving him as Michael, my friend, my boyfriend – that was something else. I’d never quite said the words, but I was sure it showed in my actions.

“You love me, don’t you?” he asked, kneeling, inching closer. His voice was so weak, like he could burst in to sobs at any moment. He pulled my hands from my face. I nodded tearfully. “I do,” I told him, “I do love you…”

I felt my tears continue to fall, hoping that it would take with it all of my fears and anxiety. Michael sniffed, wiped his eyes and took my face in his hands. I could barely look at him. I was sure we both looked as pathetic as one another.

“I love you, too,” he said, “I want to be with you. I don’t care what it takes. I want to be as fiercely loyal to you as you have been to me, Malania, I don’t want you to drop everything and run the second that life gets hard.”

“You don’t get it, Michael…” I told him with frustration as soon as a sob escaped.

“I do,” he replied in a way that sounded pleading. “Love is enough, the rest of it? It can be worked with or worked around.”

I wasn’t so sure.

“Please…” I was weakening under his touch. “Don’t leave me, let me make the choice, it’s not your right to decide for me.”

“Michael, I’m scared.” I admitted to him, “you scare me.”

He retracted his hands and rested them on my knees. He seemed defeated. “Why?” he asked as though he were afraid to hear the answer.

“I’m scared to have sex, I’m scared to have sexual feelings, I’m scared when you come near me, or when you touch me in a sexual way that I’m going to start freaking out!”

He drew in a deep breath. “So what if you do, Malania? So fucking what? I don’t want to marginalise it, but god, I’ll just back off. I’m not your brother, I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, I’m not going to try to convince you otherwise… You say stop and I’ll stop… Who do you think I am?”

I buried my face again and cried, letting it out.

He got up and sat beside me and encircled an arm around me. “I mean it, I love you. I’m in love with you and it’s not misdirected for once, but you just need to trust me. Don’t try to spare me or protect me, I can make my own decisions.”

I collapsed against him, letting him hold me. I embraced him back and I knew it was my silent way of giving in. “I need you, Malania, really, I need you more than you know…”

When I said nothing, when I continued to cry, he held me. “It’s okay for you to be scared, I’m scared too, I start freaking out on occasion as well, it’s normal when you’ve been hurt as much as we both have,” he said with emphasis as he continued to comfort me.

After some moments, I sat up and composed myself. I wiped my eyes. “It’s just really hard for me…” I murmured.

“I know…” he empathised, smoothing my hair softly, his fingertips raking through the ends and tickling my back in that lovely sort-of way that he always did.

He was familiar.

“Sweetheart,” he started, “be honest with me, what scares you the most?”

I was rife with shame over how patient and kind he was being to me, despite my attitude and my inability to handle the stress of what my fears and trauma was impressing upon me.

I dared to look at him. He looked forlorn and sad, but his tears had dried and rather than looking angry, he was frowning.

“Just…” I looked up at the roof and drew in a deep breath as if I was summoning up some strength to answer him honestly. “I don’t know how to say it…”

“We’re both adults… albeit shy ones, but we can do this…” he said with a little chuckle, trying to cheer me out of my tears. He did manage to make me choke on a half-sob, half-laugh. He took my hand and gave it a squeeze for encouragement.

“I keep thinking about how… sometimes…,” I gave a shaky sigh, “when I see you, I just don’t want to do anything but just grab you and kiss you…” I told him bravely, “and sometimes, Michael, that’s not enough…”

I looked away from him when he began to show me the smallest hint of a smile. He went to say something but I cut him off, “I think about more, like…” I paused to wipe my face as some tears escaped, “what if I initiate something, what if we are sleeping in the same bed, what if I think I’m ready for it to go further and then I can’t…”

Michael just shrugged, “That’s oh-kay,” he said softly, “what do you think I’m going to do in that situation? What’s your worst fear?”

“What you said before… you could get frustrated, you could… try to convince me or hurt me…” if he was insulted, he didn’t let it show, he just continued to shake his head, “or worse than all of that, I’m afraid I’ll lose you; that you’ll just get mad and get sick of wasting your time on me.”

“Nope…” he said simply, “I will never hurt you. The second you tell me to back off, I’ll back off… I’m not going to get mad, I’m not going to try to convince you. I respect you. You don’t hurt the people that you love.”

I felt awful, as though he was reminding me of how I was hurting him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“You will break me if you leave me…” he remarked in a brazen blunt way. “I don’t need my heart broken again… I’m not messing around with you.”

I squeezed his hand. “What if I can’t be fixed…” I asked him, “what if I can never sleep with you?”

He half smiled. “I don’t want to tell you that it won’t ever be an issue if that happens, cos you know it’ll be a lie, but I want you to believe me when I tell you that it’s not going to be like this forever. You’ll learn over time that love and abuse are not mutually exclusive.”

“But love can be abusive…” I murmured.

“No, when love turns to abuse, it ceases to be love,” he let it sink in for a moment before looking at me with a little smile that grew. “Girl,” he began in a voice that I could tell was good-natured, “when you feel like you’re ready, you won’t even question things, I can promise you that.”

I was able to chuckle at his confidence, if only because it was a release from the sadness, but probably because I knew he was kidding with me but was also expressing his confidence in his abilities so as and trying to curb my insecurity. Though, even though his remark was mostly kidding, it made my heart flutter in the anxious way.

“I hope you’re right,” I told him, turning serious again.

“Well, I’m right about the part where you’ll get through it. You will. It’ll take time, but we have that… I’m not so sure about the part where I’ll be so good at sex that you won’t be left wondering why you’re still hanging around with me…”

I chuckled again at his silly self-deprecating humour. “I’m sure you have nothing to be insecure about there, not that I’d really know anyway.”

He drew me close and kissed my temple. “Trust me, okay?” he asked, “just trust me…”

I slowly nodded, staring straight ahead thoughtfully at the television that was switched off.

“If you love me, you’ll love me enough to let me decide what I can and will wait for,” he added.

I turned to him and surveyed his sweet, caramel skin. His eyes searched mine. I knew he wanted to kiss me, I could see it in the way that he kept flicking his gaze down to my lips. He held himself back though and I was glad about that. I didn’t feel like kissing him, I just wanted to chill out. I wanted to calm down. I felt awful. My head hurt, my cheeks were puffy and my eyes stung from crying. “Okay…” I replied, letting go of that dark knot in the pit of my gut that told me to run far away.

I’d never been a stay and fight kind of girl. The flight to survive was usually my way. “I love you and I mean that…” I told him again. “I felt like it was too soon to tell you, but… you were being so honest with me, and I…”

He shook his head, “You don’t have to explain yourself… I’m glad. It means I can finally admit it as well without feeling pathetic…” he smiled. “I love you, too.”

I loved the way it sounded coming from his mouth and tried to push my fears away and just completely trust him.

“You told me once that you wouldn’t punish me for someone else’s shitty mistakes, I want you to at least keep your word with that.”

“I promise…”

He kissed my temple again. “I feel like shit…” I remarked, “I have a headache and I bet I look like a hot mess.”

He laughed. “Well, you’ve been bawling, so you’re not running for Miss America right now, but I don’t care… I think you’re beautiful even when your face is red and your eyes are a bit puffy… I know I’m certainly no Picasso…”

“Yes you are,” I smiled, “you’re always stunning…”

He had been crying too but there was no trace of tears or evidence of them anywhere. At least he was a little more dignified than I was.

**

The afternoon was a little less emotional. I had a shower in his bathroom and felt a lot better. We started the day again.

Michael ordered us some room service. I couldn’t wait to eat something that wasn’t made in a giant vat and served with a weird smell.

The food at the treatment centre wasn’t awful, but nothing beat eating something a bit more fancy than mass produced meals.

“Do you personally know William Ruddell?” I asked Michael as I took a forkful of spaghetti bolognaise.

“Yeah, actually… I wouldn’t say he is my friend, but I know of him, why? Are you a fan?” he wondered with a little smile, almost mocking.

“First of all, he’s totally ancient and secondly, no.” I shot back, “he’s the father of my friend Julia in the treatment centre.”

“Oh,” he remarked, “seriously?”

“Really, really…”

“Hmm… small world,” Michael remarked, sitting back in his chair at the small dining table in the hotel suite. “I actually knew he had a daughter with Winnie…”

“Julia saw me with you on some footage on the TV early last week… she came in to let me know that she knew my secret—“ I saw the alarm on Michael’s face, but I quickly calmed his fears. “It’s okay, she, in return, told me about her parents and promised not to breathe a word to anyone. She told me her Dad knew you, so I was just curious.”

I saw him smile, “does it help you that someone knows our connection?”

I thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, actually… It doesn’t feel like I’m keeping a giant secret, it means I can talk about you to some degree without feeling deceitful.”

“I’m sorry for that…”

I shook my head, “Don’t apologise. And can you please start eating?” he hadn’t touched his own soup.

He didn’t argue with me, but I’d noticed he’d dropped back on the eating side of things. He took a few spoonfuls if only to appease me. “She’s important to you, isn’t she, this girl?”

“Well…” I drew in a deep breath before shrugging, “she has no one… her mother seems bat shit insane…And obviously her Dad is too busy being a movie star to give a shit.”

He frowned. “William is a good guy, Malania, we don’t really know-“

“Don’t do that…” I shook my head, “don’t defend these people. Listen, my mother is a good person at the base of her heart, but it doesn’t make anything that she allowed happen to me okay. It doesn’t make her blameless.”

“I know…” he agreed, “I hope she’ll recover as well… I’m proud of you for making a friend in there.”

I managed a laugh, “Well, she’s 16, there’s only so much friendship there, but I have taken her under my wing and I think she needs a stable person in her life—well,” I corrected myself, “maybe loyal is a better word, I don’t know if I’m stable.”

“It’d be cool if I could meet her maybe one time when I come in…” he suggested.

“Sure thing…” I replied casually, not telling him that Julia would have burst at the seams to meet him. I knew it would have made him nervous. “Thanks for lunch, Michael, it’s great.”

“You’re welcome, my heart…” he reached over and grabbed my hand upon the table top. “Do you want to do anything special?”

I shook my head. I turned his hand over so as it was lying open palmed inside of mine. “Michael, when did you cut yourself?” I asked, looking directly at the cut I’d spied earlier.

He quickly retracted his arm as if he could somehow cover it. “I did-“

“You did,” I replied gently, “You and I have a pact, right?”

He looked down sheepishly.

“Ljubav,” I smiled compassionately at him, he flicked his eyes up at me and smiled at the use of the foreign pet name I sometimes called him, “come on now, you can’t lie to me and if I’m pulling my weight, you have to pull yours.”

He just nodded, looking back down in to his soup again.

“And… all this therapy stuff got me thinking. Would you do something for me?”

He eyed me a little darkly, almost as if he knew I was going to request something he wasn’t going to like. Slowly he nodded.

“Would you please see a therapist? For you?” I asked. Before he could protest, I continued, “I’m not an idiot; you’re stressed out. Dealing with me can sometimes be stressful too, I’m sure…I’m doing every single thing I can to be the best person that I can be for not only you but for myself as well…”

“Well then, I suppose I should do the same…”

I didn’t tell him so, but I worried about the fact that he wasn’t eating very much. I wondered if he did have something of an eating disorder or if it was truly just the way he dealt with stress. “Will you do that for me?”

“Only because you asked me…” he gave me a weak smile. “I want to be the best person I can be for you too,” he added.

Noticing I’d finished eating, he reached out his hand again, “come here…” He pushed his chair back a bit and patted his knees. I wasn’t sure I was even prepared to be that close to him.

I plucked up the courage and took his hand and let him guide me to his lap. He drew me in, allowing me to straddle him a little bit more intimately than I had even expected. I knew I seemed reluctant, but he pretended not to notice and so I pretended to be comfortable.

He glanced at me momentarily and smiled. I couldn’t remember where it was that he’d taken off his fedora when we had arrived back, but I saw it sitting on the bed a little distance behind us. I rested my hands gingerly upon his shoulders. His arms slipped around my waist. “You’re the most gorgeous thing,” he said, showing me an even bigger smile with his teeth.

I couldn’t help but to be infected by it. I smiled back at it, relaxing a little bit.

“What a day, huh?” I sighed out loud.

“Yep,” he agreed pensively. “What a day,” he repeated with a nod of his head. “But it’s okay, I’m just glad to have you in my arms. I’ve wanted to come and see you every day this past week and I knew you were down and I wanted to come and hold you…”

I drew in a deep breath and got up a little bit of courage. I encircled my arms around his neck and leaned in to him. I kissed him briefly upon his lips. “So, hold me then…” I commanded in a way that sounded much more like a request.

I rested my head upon his shoulder where my hands had just been, nuzzling in to his warm neck. He embraced me tighter, not letting me have to ask twice. I could smell the scent of his sweet cologne and didn’t even care that some of his curly hair was tickling my ear.

“This is nice…” he remarked, “this is what I’ve dreamed of for weeks…”

I planted a soft kiss on his neck. “Me too…” and it was, its just that I didn’t see any of my fantasies with Michael materialising because of my trauma.

But.... I was trying.

Because I loved him, and he, for whatever reason – for all that I had put him through, also loved me.