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Chapter Four: I gave her time

It had turned in to the saddest, lowest point in my life. I was finger printed, photographed and alone, thrown in to a holding cell for an hour and spat at and abused by someone in the opposing cell.

All my life spent, dedicated to helping other people and holding a deep love for the human race was wasted. No one was ever going to believe in me again. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my fans turned their backs on me. Why wouldn’t they?

I thought to Diane and felt immediately like crying, but the tears were dry for now. I remembered the last time I saw her and things took a turn for the worst, but… I never expected… this.

She said she understood but I knew she’d been heartbroken with my disinterest in her request. I offered her my love and support in other ways, but I just couldn’t do what she wanted. It wouldn’t have been right and I never wanted Casey to have to take the backseat.

My thoughts drifted to the little girl who I once held in my arms as she suffered debilitating pain. She’d been crippled with a tumor compressing on her spine but her willpower and fight inspired me to do the same. Her Mom, Diane was newly single with an ex partner a little like my brother – perhaps that’s why I had such a soft spot for Mercedes.

I helped Diane out financially as soon as a nurse had filled me in on the situation. If there was no money, there was certainly no more treatment for the little girl. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I just kept walking.

I breathed a deep sigh.

I looked down at my fingertips in the dim light. They still had ink stains on them. I launched myself up, feeling my head spin a little from the lack of food or fluids and probably the throbbing of my temples. I made my way to the bathroom and scrubbed and scrubbed them until only very slight traces of ink remained.

I kept replaying the day over and over in my head. If someone had of told me that aliens had taken over, I would have believed that over Greg Pattoway telling me that I had been accused by Diane of molestation. The very idea nauseated me.

Casey. Not Casey… Poor, sweet, beautiful Casey; my little girl, my everything. She was the child that if anything happened to Diane, I would have taken her on as my own, no questions asked. The love I had for her was unconditional.

The thought of me even…

Behind me, I grabbed a hold of the porcelain bowl and began vomiting again. It seemed to be a natural reaction that had taken place over various times during the evening. Including when I was in the holding cell.

The smell of the cell was enough to send me over the edge. I couldn’t stop vomiting. With that thought was the reminder that I still hadn’t showered since arriving home. I sat back on the cold tiles and wiped my mouth.

I sat staring for a few moments until finally I found the energy to get up and peel my clothes off to have a shower.

**

A doctor arrived late that night to make sure that I was okay. I protested and tried locking myself in the bathroom and acting incredibly neurotic but there was a part of me that didn’t care.

After a full forty minutes of my mother coaxing, she gave up. Or, at least I thought. About fifteen minutes later, I heard my father’s voice outside the door.

“Michael, unlock that door, so help me if I have to take this thing from the damn hinges,” he threatened in his only-know-how tough-love kind of way. I knew he meant business so I got up and unlocked the door.

He didn’t say insult me or tell me I was being stupid. He was suspiciously silent on that front. He watched me climb back in to bed where I had dwelled for the days since arriving home.

The media had reported that I’d gone missing. Idiots. I hadn’t even tried to escape them.

“Michael, I know you are angry and hurt, but we’re all worried about you. Please see this doctor, do it for your mother if you won’t do it for yourself.” 

I was surprised that he didn’t demand anything from me. It made me feel a little bit warmer.

“Okay,” I agreed simply.

He disappeared and reappeared a moment later with my mother and the doctor. He seemed to effectively take charge and my mother seemed okay with that.

“Michael won’t eat. He has been having anxiety attacks since he arrived home and he’s been vomiting all night,” he explained. 

The doctor looked at me and tried to remain professional, but I knew she was a little excited to be treating me which only managed to make me feel more ashamed.

I was just a shell of a celebrity, not someone that should have been proud of his successes. All that had been cast aside and overshadowed by the raging monster that I was currently being painted as.

I felt like a child. I was being treated like one because obviously no one trusted me to take care of myself. 

Dad left us to it to tend to a phone call, probably from the lawyer saying they were going to lock me in jail and throw away the key, I thought cynically. 

Mom turned the light on. My eyes were super sensitive to it, given how much crying I’d been doing. I brought my hands up immediately to cover them, wincing in pain.

“Mr. Jackson, I’m Dr Braithwaite, but you can call me Lidia,” she greeted me, slowly leaning over to pull my hands away from my eyes. Her hands were soft and warm unlike most Doctor’s hands.

I looked at my Mom who looked on with great concern for me. She had been grimacing all day long and becoming emotional from time-to-time. I think she was trying to hold it in.

“I just want to take your pulse,” she murmured quietly. She held her thumb and pointer to either side of my wrist and looked at her watch, concentrating. She seemed to give up after a moment and leaned over me, taking a seat on my bed.

“Sorry, can I just check from here…” she pointed to her neck and I knew she was careful not to invade my personal space. I complied with whatever she asked. 

“Okay,” I spoke softly, lifting my chin to allow her some space to check my pulse from the other spot. A few moments later she lifted her two fingers away from the spot at my throat.

“You’ve got a quick pulse, Mr. Jackson. From what I understand, you’re very anxious. When was the last time you ate today?” 

I thought for a moment and was about to answer but my mother beat me to it. “I watched Michael eat some rice and vegetables for lunch, but barely three mouthfuls.” 

“That’s not enough,” she shook her head, “And what did you have to drink?” she asked, her green eyes staring in to mine without flinching and without making me feel like she was judging me. It was slightly comforting.

“I don’t remember…” I whispered. 

“Okay. I want you to drink a glass of juice before you go to bed tonight and you’ll need to eat something. I don’t really care what it is, but it has to be something – it could be a bowl of yoghurt or ice cream, whatever – so long as you are putting something in your stomach.” 

I just nodded. 

“Secondly, how are you sleeping?”

I sighed and thought about how I’d been wide awake all night the night before. I slept on and off for no more than 15 minutes at a time. Each time I was awoken in terror from my nightmares.

Only, it was reality.

“I’m not…” I told her honestly. 

“I can imagine you must be feeling a lot of stress fight now. I don’t think you’re physically unwell in terms of a flu or something, but I am sure that everything that is happening on a physical scale is a side effect of anxiety and stress,” she explained. I felt her hand on top of mine and honestly? It felt comforting to know that there was someone who didn’t think I was a predator.

“What can we do to help him?” mother asked in her quiet, sad voice.

Lidia looked up at my mother and gave her an equally comforting smile, “Mrs. Jackson, I think you and your husband are doing a fine job, Michael is in good hands with you both, but perhaps it might be worth prescribing some sedatives for help with sleep and anxiety.” 

I had been adverse to any kind of sedative or mood changing drugs in the past, but whatever would help me to sleep was going to be a welcome change from the darkness and doom that took up residence in my mind whenever I closed my eyes.

“Thank you, Dr Lidia,” I said gratefully. 

She patted my hand and smiled at me, “if it helps, Mr. Jackson, I believe in you and I think most people do, that’s why we have to keep you well to make sure that you’re strong enough to get through this.” 

A lump formed in my throat.

So far two employees had walked on me, someone that I loved and adored had somehow and for some reason turned their back on me completely in the most abhorrent way and an estranged family member had appeared on a tabloid news show telling people she suspected my guilt for a long time.

This was actually the first time that a person besides my direct family had expressed their belief in my innocence.

“Thank you so much,” I choked out, my eyes beginning to water again. I blinked them back immediately. Seemed to be the vicious cycle.

She got up and said goodbye to me and both she and my Mom left me to it.

**

I jammed my hands in to the pockets of the grey hoodie that I wore and pulled the hood over my head. It was pitch black dark in the house as I crammed my feet in to some house slippers and headed downstairs, trying to keep quiet.

I let myself back out in the grounds which were so silent that I could have heard a pin drop. It was about 11:30pm which wasn’t really that late, but my parents were already asleep and everything usually went quiet at home around 10pm.

I paced the grounds for a little while, ignoring the breeze that chilled my bones. I blew in to my hands to keep them warm wishing that I’d brought some gloves out.

I heard a couple of voices as I neared closer to the gates that gave access to our family property. I stayed in the shadows as I made my way closer. I didn’t feel scared, it wasn’t unusual for fans to hang around. Mom had told me earlier that some fans had been huddled outside with flowers and gifts.

“Why don’t we just go back to the hotel?” I heard a voice ask.

“I don’t want to go anywhere, I wanna stay,” the voice replied a little impatiently. 

“Jeez, he’s not gonna come out and say hi you know, I’m tired and I’m freezing my ass off out here. He’s probably inside in his asleep in the warm – you know, where we should be!”

I heard a deep sigh. I thought I heard a tearful voice but I couldn’t be certain, “How on earth do you think he would be sleeping while all of this is happening? Just go back to the hotel, I don’t care, I don’t expect him to come waltzing out to say hello, I’m here in solidarity. Someone’s gotta be, you don’t see anyone else here do you?” 

“No! Because they’re all in bed asleep!” the other girl exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh in her tone.

“Beth, just go back to the hotel… take the car, come get me in the morning, I’ll stay here all night, I don’t even care.”

“You’re an idiot…”

I instantly realized who the voice belonged to. My two fans who I’d seen last back in Mexico City.

I felt almost chuffed that Malania was so staunchly supportive. I knew I’d taken a shine to her for a reason. She was so loyal and kind-hearted. I didn’t hear much talking, save for a car driving off.

I was surprised that Beth had actually abandoned her. Had my nerves not been shot to pieces I would have confronted them and asked her to please get some rest. I couldn’t though, the selfishness in me wanted someone to stand on my side through the wind and the rain and suffer this agony with me.

I waited for a few moments and gained my composure.

I headed to the security cottage nearest to the gate and knocked quietly. My family’s guard, Alfred opened the door and seemed extremely surprised to see me. 

“Hi Mr. Jackson,” he greeted me. I summoned up a smile and greeted him back. The burly black man stood up, expecting that I was about to ask something of him.

“I just want to open the gate for a moment, is that okay?” 

“Mr Jackson there’s some fans outside there, I don’t think it’s a good idea. If you want to go somewhere, I can organize that for you.” 

I shook my head, “There’s just one out there, I would like to speak with her. Could you open the gate so I can go outside for a moment?” I asked again. 

“Okay. Are you sure? I could invite her inside instead?” 

“I’m sure. I know who she is. Thanks.” He pressed a button and I heard the squeak of the large, wrought iron gates opening up. 

I left Alfred to it and gingerly made my way outside the compound. I was aware I looked like nobody owned me with my black pajama pants and gym hoodie. I spotted Malania sitting on a brick fence just beside the intercom. 

“Malania?” I called. I saw her scramble to her feet, wiping her eyes profusely as if she’d just be caught out.

“Michael? Is that you?” 

“Yes, its me. Are you alright out there?” it was totally pitch black save for the glow of the tiny little button on the intercom. “Alfred can you hit the lights?” I called out to the security guard. 

A few moments later the lights around the gates flickered on. That was better, I could see her petite form hidden in the light. I felt bad when I saw she was in a pair of black jeans and a form-fitting knit-sweater. She must have been freezing. 

“I’m alright. Are you?” she wondered, coming to stand close to me, carefully keeping her distance from where I was standing just on the inside of the compound.

“Yes, I think so, right now I am,” I told her in an honest way. I managed to hold off my emotions for the moment. I felt touched that she was happy to freeze for me.

“Beth just left, she was sure you’d never come out here,” she informed me. 

“It was nice of you to stay and support me,” I murmured. The whole energy surrounding us felt a little odd and awkward. It was different when I had a heap of fans around or when there was security around.

“Of course, Michael, I have been here all night, ever since you got back. I didn’t go home because I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

“Why don’t you come out of the cold. I’ll get you something warm, you must be freezing,” I suggested. I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew if my Mom caught sight of her she would have offered her a jacket or something to keep herself warm. 

“No, I’m okay, really Michael. I don’t want to bother you, you have enough going on.” 

I sighed. This girl was as sweet as they came. “Please, I can’t leave you out here in good conscience,” I managed a smile at her. She returned it. 

“I’m glad to see you’re okay, they reported on the news that you collapsed, we were so worried.” 

I looked her over in her black and white striped knit and felt a great affection for the fan who turned up to so many of my shows who never once overstepped the boundaries and whom always, always respected my personal space.

“I’m okay.” I repeated even though the words were hard to push from my mouth, “come on, follow me…” 

She came within the confines of the compound. I took her down to the guest cottage further back on the property. It was a little bit awkward at first but I found the key above the doorway and unlocked the front door. Janet had lived in this guesthouse until very recently. It was pretty empty save for a guest bed and some amenities.

“Come on in…” I waved her inside, switching on the lights and closing the door. I turned the heater on so that she could warm up and made a beeline for the cupboard where I knew there would be spare pillows and blankets. I retrieved a blanket unfolded it twice so that it was a large square. I could feel Malania’s eyes following me around as I busied myself trying to ignore the discomfort.

“Please, take a seat…” I gestured to the couch that sat before a small box-back television that I was sure only worked in black and white. She didn’t say a word. I draped the blanket over her shoulders and gave her a smile. “Is that better?” 

“Thank you so much, you are too kind.” 

“Well, it’s the least I can do—“ I paused, “if I’m going to be truthful, I heard the conversation between you and your friend.” I hated that I never remembered her friend’s name, and I was pretty sure she had said it just moments earlier.

“Oh. She’s just tired and grouchy, but… she’s as big a fan as I am.” Malania tossed her brown hair over her shoulders. She looked a bit sheepish. 

“I know but… it meant a lot to me, what you said… I guess this is my way of showing that I appreciate it. Granted, I haven’t left the house, turned the TV on or really seen anyone since I’ve arrived home, but besides something the doctor said earlier, you’re the only person who’s supported me without question.” 

She seemed surprised by my own admission that seemed to be flying out of my mouth.

“I know a lot of people are supporting you right now, Michael, honestly.” 

“But you’re here and they’re not,” I insisted, “so thanks.” I was about to sit down beside her but I had another idea. I went to the intercom phone by the doorway. I dialed the chef’s quarters. 

A few moments later, the phone picked up. “Hello?” the voice seemed surprised to have a phone call so late. 

“Hi its Michael,” I greeted her, “I’m in the guest cottage with…” what was I supposed to say? I was in the cottage with a fan? I didn’t want to sound even more of a sleaze, nor did I want to insult the girl that was in my company, “with a friend, if its not too much trouble, could I trouble you for a hot cocoa?” 

“Sure Michael, absolutely, will that be all?” I smiled at Malania who I noticed was staring at me shamelessly with a little, grateful smile that gave me a nice feeling. It was a far cry for the way I felt earlier.

“Um… make that two, perhaps some sandwiches, surprise us.” 

“Okay I’ll bring it down shortly.” 

“Thank you so much, Carla.” I hung up the phone and finally took a seat beside the fan.

I could feel the room getting much warmer. I was happy about that. My hands had been absolutely freezing. “So where are you from? I see you guys all over the place.” 

“I’m from Fountain Valley, do you know where that is?” she wondered. 

“Somewhere down near Orange County, right?” It wasn’t that far away, less than two hours by car. 

She nodded, “Yeah.” 

“Do you go to school or … how old are you actually?” I was curious. I knew she had to be over 18.

“I’m 22. I got done with school just last yr and I worked and worked for the three years I went to college and I’m taking the year off to figure out what to do now.” 

I smiled at her, I liked those types of conversations, the ones that didn’t revolve around me. I liked the type of conversations where I felt like the interviewer who would get to ask all the questions. It gave me a glimpse in to the regularities of everyone else’s lives.

 I felt myself relax a little bit, “What did you study?”

She finally chuckled, “I don’t want to say, its kinda lame.” I liked her laugh, it felt infectious. Even though I was feeling rotten through and through, I was still able to giggle.

“I bet not,” I insisted, “come on, it can’t be that bad.” 

“I studied art. Nothing more ridiculous than an art degree,” she joked. 

I made a face, “that’s not even true, I love art. I’d study art.” 

“Yeah, but you’re an established musician. Art would be a fallback career for you, I should have listened to my parents.” 

I did laugh a little wryly. “If you love art, you’ll find a way to make it your life.” 

“What do your folks make of you running around after Michael Jackson?” Her eyes sparkled a little bit as I focused in on them. They were beautiful, they didn’t shy away from mine and they didn’t make me feel as though she were intruding in to my soul.

She gave a shrug, “My Dad is Japanese, so they are probably more relieved that I’m not working as a starving artist,” she joked. I laughed with her and peeled my eyes away from hers. It felt good, my first laugh in days. “No but really, my parents are good people. They just want me to have fun while I’m young and figure things out in my own time.”

“What do you think they’d prefer you to be?” I asked curiously as my eyes studied her perfectly structured face. She had a soft, defined jaw and the most perfect almond-shaped eyes and a cute little nose.

“Duh, I told you he’s Asian, I’d have to a medical student or an accountant or something,” she laughed. I giggled at her own racial profiling. 

A knock at the door interrupted us. I got up to open it and found the chef holding a wooden tray with a plate of sandwiches and two hot chocolates. 

“Thank you so much. I appreciate it so much, I won’t bother you again tonight, I promise.” 

“You’re welcome Mr. Jackson,” she smiled and took off back to the house. 

I placed the tray down carefully. I was going to try to drink and eat something.

“How have you been?” she asked me in a voice that allowed me to know that she was reluctant to ask, “did you really faint today?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t faint. I’m not going to lie, I didn’t have an amazing day, but… I didn’t faint. I am just happy to have some company.” 

“You mean, your family?” 

“No.” I said, shaking my head, “I mean you…”

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