AFTERLIFE
by
Erika B Michaels
Author's note: Welcome to my new story. Well, it's not really that new to me- I started writing it last June, dealing once again with the anniversary of losing Michael. Several of my friends have been inspiring me to post and so...here it is. As always- you know how it is: once I post, I try to finish. :)
I hope you will enjoy. Please let me know your thoughts- nothing is more valuable to us writers.
Thank you for those who have been along with me for a while and those who are new to my scribbling. This is dedicated to T.W. - as without her, I probably would not sit here and post this tonight. :) LOVE YOU!
~E
1
June 25, 2009
“Musical icon Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, was rushed to UCLA Medical Center after an ambulance had been called to his rented home in Beverly Hills. We are still awaiting word as to his condition. Reportedly, Jackson was rushed to UCLA after an ambulance was called to his house on Carolwood Drive. Sources have indicated the singer suffered cardiac arrest. His private doctor was in attendance. The King of Pop was scheduled to embark on a huge come-back tour to at the sold out O2 Arena in London next month. Please stay tuned for the latest update. To recap, today an ambulance was dispatched to Michael Jackson’s rented home after a 911 call was received from his home. On last report, Mister Jackson was in the care of physicians at UCLA Medical Center….”
The blood rushing in her ears tinted the oxygen deprived air an eerie shade of ruby. Submerged in a thick, threatening state of nonexistence, Lisa’s lungs attempted to expand. Her chest on fire as the automatic muscle tied to the inborn will to preserve life fought her lemming’s flight off the cliff. Why bother, she almost wanted to ask. Resistance was futile: if he went down, her life was gone as well. Instead of cleansing breaths, acidic bile rendered her incapably of cooperating in any life sustaining function. Trapped in this fishbowl of pain with healing water drained and replaced by battery acid.
“Lisa, please…say something….Come on…give me this….”
Penetrating from the other side of the fog, a soft, warm hand touched her icy skin. Instinctively, she reacted in a violent, defensive motion, jerking back her arm. No- stay out. No one had a right to offer anything as useless and nonexistent as comfort.
Glances were exchanged. More sensed than actually perceived. Shadows…shapeless, featureless people. Sounds permeated through the sluggish waves of tar surrounding her. Once more, someone tried to take the remote from her frozen hand. It wasn’t leaving. If she let go, she’d drown. Surrender to the warm, lulling pull. Her other hand performed some automatic motion, far removed from conscious thought. Yes- every child knew the drill. 911- what’s your emergency. Her own version. Some vice held her wrist in an iron lock. Fingers grasping on for dear life, moving in a dance of death over the keys. Her very being was tethered to the phone. Autopilot…autodialing… autoliving…
For the millionth time in what seemed like an eternity, her call went to voicemail.
“Hello, you have reached Kate. I am so sorry to have missed you….”
Lisa’s echoing breath sounding foreign, short, and forced. Small puffs of oxygen keeping the fire from totally being smothered by the vacuum.
The electronic version of Katherine was sorry. Somehow that seemed bizarre.
Sorry...
I’m sorry to not be able to take your call... I’m slightly busy with my dying son. His beautiful heart stopped...
A painful sob sounding more like a small wail startled Lisa. Dizzyness once again...
Come on, Lisa. Keep that crank going...you gotta breathe. They didn’t say he was dead.
Except...
Oh God, Katherine knew her number. Surely she recognized it…. If she wasn’t answering…
Swallowing, her throat rebelled against the sandpaper in her saliva.
No, no, it’s okay, you would feel it… If something was…if he was… No, don’t even think it. He will be fine. He always is…This was simply one of his stunts to avoid fulfilling a contract he signed. Stopped taking care of himself…neglecting all his needs. So dramatic! Why not just speak up if he didn’t want to do something? But no, everything was drama with him. I will so kick his ass for this. For scaring the holy shit out of me. Oh, Gold, please, please let him be all right. He has to be…He was…
Wasn’t he?
Stop lying, Lisa. You did feel it. You did know.
Another sob escaped. A dry rumbling announcing the end of the world.
Yes, she had known...
It had been a day unlike any other. Born from the womb of what should have been a regular summer day. Suddenly, without warning, routine turned into some odd twilight zone. Feelings, emotions going haywire. Tornadoes twisting her into nothing but incomprehensible pain. She had been crying almost all day. Without an apparent reason, mind you. Lockwood had come to check on her several times. Silently…with that worried look he tried to hide. And every time she had to send him away to take care of the babies. There was simply no logical explanation for her lunacy. Not even a full moon or upcoming period to blame. Some silent root cause resulting in nothing but agony and tears. How in the world could she convey something so beyond any understanding. Just a regular day. A bit cool for a summer day, but that was England for you. She had been so sick of the blue skies and the perfect hot breezes of LA. The escape had been perfect. Life had been pretty damn good. Things were coming together. And for once she wasn’t looking for the other shoe to drop.
Then, today, this weird vibe had hijacked her soul. Something ripped pieces of her heart into confetti and threw it in her face. Her throat was burning from contained screams. Her tears eroded the smooth surface of her soul. Washing away the past. Revealing the some formless, glaring feeling she could not even begin to determine.
Un-named. Un-felt. Un-survived.
As bad as it had been, the next blow knocked her on her ass.
With a knock on the door. Lockwood…Lucky...
Lisa had looked up, and it was written right there on his face. Their established communication without superfluous words. The image so pure and clear- totally unobstructed by sound waves.
Michael.
Lucky held her gaze and entered, his posture mirroring the weight of the load he was about to deliver onto her shoulders. She knew. Read the return address of the shitload about to bury her correctly. No confirmation was needed. It was something about Michael.
Something bad.
Something she could not recover from.
The chiming of her phone startled her. Automatically, her eyes went to the lit display. A text came in from her friend John… “Are you ok?”
Lisa looked up from her phone at her husband. Bravely, she squared her shoulders. Cleared her throat.
“What? What did he do now?”
Her tone was appropriately annoyed and defiant. The tiny tremble hidden in the shadow of the mighty shield of anger. Sadly, no great protection there. Not against that blast. Once pierced with the slightest touch of the two glittering initials it evaporated into nothingness.
Fear choked her throat. The cold hand of death on her heart. Her vision clouded from the poisonous haze. And yet everything was suddenly clear.
Lucky knew whom she was referring to. Lockwood easily read her shorthand. It was second nature by now. If there was a crisis, it was about the first Michael in Lisa’s life. The one who she would die over. The one who she always remained chained to. Secret chains. Often hidden from her own awareness Yes, she had sworn off his light. She had condemned herself to a life of mediocrity- and sanity. She would survive. That insane, killing part of her heart shut away in a secret vault. Finally she had it figured out. Could function. Could breathe. Did not have to live in the dungeon of panic. As long as she knew he was somewhere on this planet. Not hers to touch. Not hers to hold. But there, nonetheless.
“Babe. Riley called...wanted me to tell you. She..she couldn’t. So...seems like he...Michael had been taken to the hospital. It’s all over the news. It…it looks bad, Lisa…”
Bad? No, this wasn’t bad. Bad was when one of the twins had a belly ache and kept them up all night. Bad was arguing with Ben over his future, or having a miserable, circular fight with her mother. This was a blade slashing her throat. She would not survive this.
When she closed her eyes, the familiar, iconic canvas was nailed to her eyeball: her father on the ground. His eyes huge, surprised…the empty stare searching her very being. Screaming out to her with deafening silence.
Lisa Marie, Princess...what’s happening? Save me...
Daddy didn’t want to leave her. His love had always been her cloak and her magic carpet. She couldn’t save him. He had called her his sunshine and she had let him down.
Daddy, Daddy, say something…Daddy, please…
Her eyes had ripped open.
Oh God, the children… Michael’s children. They must have been in the house. It had been so early there. Where were they now? Were they screaming, crying, burning for their Daddy?
Don’t let it take you away Lisa. Stay here. Get information. Calm your fucking, idiotic self down! You gotta do it this time. You gotta win this race!
Shaking off the tickling hand of insanity she swallowed hard. On autopilot, she dialed again.
This time there was a different sound almost right away. An answer. To what? Did she have the guts to hear it now? “Katherine…Katherine..I just ...saw...found out...God…how…how…what…”
The remainder of anything similar to words was squeezed from her throat.
“Lisa Marie, child. Oh God. I am so glad you called. Oh child, it’s…Michael… He…oh Lord help us… We still don’t know anything. They’re..they’re working on him…His heart stopped. His beautiful heart…”
Lisa listened to her former mother in laws’ tears, and her heart took flight, leaving its human, fallible encasing.
Some things were lethal on impact. Some blows you simply never could recover from. The incoming missile tore to the bottom of that secret bunker and shredded the titanium casing off the huge part of her heart belonging to Michael.
It all came back. Rushed back. Buried her with memories. An avalanche. A rockslide...Each rock a memory, unearthing regrets she never knew existed. All the layers of hurt and anger, of pretended indifference obliterated. Everything raced back at her in one violent assault. The tsunami stunned and beguiled her as she stared at the wall of death from the small sliver of remaining sanity. Brilliant clarity in one ray of death. The laser leaving his image. Eviscerating, invigorating…life and death. All rolled up in one man.
She barely functioned after the call. Lockwood finally convinced her to lie down. Fine, she complied. Not really knowing what for. There was no resting for her. No sleep, no reprieve. Her coward days were over. Instead, her nervous system took her on a wild roller-coaster ride. The ride called: My Life. Why was there no warning? Surely, she was not tall enough to be on that one. Closing her eyes only served to hit the high definition button:
Meeting Michael for the first time…his eyes laughing at her. His silly bravado… His flirting… The first hint of danger to her heart- and her first defense… Rushing into marrying Danny… Riley… Michael holding Riley for the first time… The light in his eyes… The sadness tipping off the waves…
Ben…Then Michael again…rekindling their relationship after meeting up at Brett’s… The secrecy… The stupid attempt at friendship… The fire burning all the good intentions in a blaze of madness. Michael’s kiss at Neverland…. Making love…his fear…his insecurity…his huge eyes filled with apprehension and passion. That cheeky grin as he wanted to go for round two, and three, and four…
The ultimatum to leave Danny…the wedding…the ride to heaven followed by the dip into hell. His tears when he begged her to have children… Her own fears keeping her prisoner…his accusations that she didn’t love him enough…her counter charge of him never having loved her. The poison in her ears… the blade in her hands…Debbie…Prince…Paris… Their mad reunions…the cataclysmic break-ups. Men…bandaids…alcohol…anger…nothing exorcised him from her DNA or her heart.
The call…over and over….like a deadly loop in her brain. That call. Her coupe de grace. Spearing his heart and killing her own. A tapeworm fattening on her deep, dark secret. One of the major feeding sources for her self loathing.
“Lisa..I gotta know. I don’t think I can ever feel again- I’m dead. I don’t know how to live like that. Being all dead inside. Please…I need you… You are my lifeline. My only hope. You were so right. And I was such an idiot. I gotta go…there is nothing left here. But please, if there is…if you have anything left…anything at all. You gotta let me know now. Is there anything left in you for me to stay? Do you love me? Please tell me there is hope. I beg you…my brain tells me there is nothing left and to just leave this miserable place. But my heart is with you. And if you…if you even have the tiniest spark of love left for me…I will stay. For you, I will stay. For us…Please tell me we can go back…that you can teach me how to be alive again.”
That broken shell of a man was braver than she could ever dare to be. The words were right there, choking her airways. But her hands were tied. Her tongue paralyzed. The straightjacket of terror was too tight. The golden verses were swallowed in one bite and dissolved in the bitter gall of her heaving stomach.
She offered him all she had. Indifference. As useful as ‘Let Them Eat Cake.’ A fake sentiment in exchange for the truth she could neither fathom nor express.
Hiding behind the illusion of freeing them both, the falling blade missed his shackles and slashed his throat instead. She had mistaken the dead calm inside for freedom. When it had been the entrance to her grave.
Sure, they had talked after that. Had even met. Made love. She had gazed into his eyes and her own reflection greeted her instead of his soul. The shutters had been drawn. Never had he asked anything of her again. When she had chased him across Ireland, he actually had made a mad-dash to escape. When she had run into his arms in Vegas, the sensation that she was transgressing the cool, distant fog of a ghost had been too difficult to decipher. Michael had changed. It was easy and ludicrous to blame the trial. Sure, the horror of those months had left their mark and stolen from him. Too bad the loot had been deposited in her inept hands. The power had been hers. And she had thrown his heart in the trash and set fire to both of them.
Suddenly, lying there, thinking him dead or dying, everything became oh so clear. The clouds revealed the moon and the corpse of the past stared up at her through the bubbling swamp.
It had been up to her. He needed to trust the one person he had ever felt safe enough to reveal himself with. He needed a hiding place. He needed to be sheltered. You don’t take the injured unicorn and pretend it will be rescued by setting it free into a heard of bulls.
What about now? If she was honest now, if she said those words she should have gifted him with four years ago, would it make a difference?
“I love you…oh God…don’t leave. Don’t you dare leave. I know you can hear me… Don’t you dare. You can feel again…and you can live. I swear. Just please…stay….” Tears took her voice and left her trembling again.
Why was the damn phone not ringing again? Katherine told her she would keep her informed.
Yes, Lisa, he first thing on her mind after losing her son is to worry about the woman who ripped his heart out.
No doubt he had told his mother… The family had still been warm to her when she saw them- but something had shifted.
“He loves you so much, child. Pray for him, please pray for my baby…”
Pray? Did she still know how to? And who would hear her? Or answer her? The God that had taken her father? The God she had turned her back on long ago in exchange for reason and logic?
The answer came all by itself. Lifting...freeing...Lisa didn’t even notice she was on the floor on her knees, finally asking for help…begging with words so deep and honest, surrendering to a higher power, even as she tried to bargain, offered anything and everything. Her very soul, if need be.
The phone rang. Lisa sat up straight as if struck by lightning. Through the chilled steam of her tears she stared at the caller ID.
“Yes...” Her voice totally void of any emotion. All feelings were still tied to the balloons of her hopes rising into the air on the wind of her secret prayers. Had the sacrifice been accepted or did blood stain the altar stone in vain?
“Lisa….Lisa Marie…we have word…”
And her whole life froze…teetering on that pivotal point. Lisa was afraid inhaling would tip the scale. So, she simply grabbed the phone. The words washed by her like whispers riding on the wind.
She didn’t know how long she had sat there on the floor. Motionless. Lifeless. Heartless. At some point, Lockwood, came to check on her.
“Lise, are we flying back to LA? I can make arrangements right away if you need us to go. The girls can be ready by the morning, and we head home.”
Home? Lisa stared up at him without understanding.
He sank to his knees next to her, removed the phone with the continuous beeping sound from her dead hands. “Lisa… You just tell me what you need me to do. And we do it.”
“No need to… No need to go back…”
Lockwood reached out and pulled her to him, holding her, rocking her, cradling her. When she finally was ready to cry, she knew it was simply the beginning of an eternal monsoon.
+++++++
2
Los Angeles, July 2nd 2009
“Eat your jello.”
“It’s a funny color.”
“Well so are you. Eat it. Don’t you give me ‘tude, either.” There it was- the finger stuck up in warning. And he knew better than to ignore the finger.
He looked up fully, and stuck his tongue out at his baby sister. Weird, after years of being strangers, it all seemed so familiar again. Like when they were kids and he had the flu. Janet nursing him, so she finally could feel all adult. Familiar setting- strange cast.
Janet did her best imitation of someone staying stern.“Well, someone is feeling better.”
“They took that stupid thing out my throat finally. I’ll be lucky I can ever crow another note. Never mind sing. But yeah, I’m better. No thanks to the funny food.” Trying to swallow, he winced in pain.
“Stop whining. You’re lucky you’re alive, -eat.”
Did she just mumble he was a pain in the ass? That just was not nice. Not at all.
This was his second attempt at something other than liquids after the feeding tubes had been disconnected. The first attempt left him heaving and nauseous.
Stalling, Michael watched the gelatin blob perform a silly little dance on his spoon. It smelled like…well, not like lime anyway.
“Who appointed you boss today?” Maybe if he stalled some more he’d be able to avoid the nasty looking glob.
“Jermaine…till he gets back.”
Michael laughed and it sounded everything but golden. But it was a sign of life. And it hurt. Like fuck! Life was so frigging painful. But then, he hadn’t particularly cared for almost dying either. His chest was on fire and he took a shallow breath. He desperately tried to avoid coughing, since that always felt as if someone was trying to break his ribs apart- from the inside.
“Jerm ain’t the boss of no-one. Least of all me. Him and that lacquered mop he calls hair.” The last comment did make Miss Serious crack a smile.
“Well, he has declared himself family spokesperson.”
Was she serious? Oh Jesus! Jermaine finally had center stage. Great.
“Heaven help us all.”
Tears appeared in Janet’s eyes. “Heaven did help us all, Michael.”
Instantly, he felt the immense guilt take a seat on his chest again. Hard to decide if the pain or this onus of what almost happened hurt worse.
His gaze lowered, and he forced a spoonful of green stuff worthy of Nickelodeon Kids Choice Award fame to enter his dry mouth. There! Atonement. Well...Janet better appreciate this.
Janet’s comment set off a firestorm in his mind. Heaven.... Light, sounds…warmth… Insane fear and the most intense peace. Walking toward the final destination, knowing and feeling he was finally at peace. Everything would be alright. The battles were over and he was allowed to rest. At long last.
Then voices…no not voices…some sort of sensations. The syllables were unheard and yet entered his heart. The sentiments anchors keeping him fastened to this life. When really, all he wanted to do was to soar. Up and away. Scatter..dissolve. Finally weightless…fearless…blessed and forgiven. Going home.
“Daddy, don’t leave, please, Daddy….please come back…we need you…”
“Daddy, I’m so sorry I argued with Blanket…I’ll never do it again. And I’ll make sure to eat my salad…please Daddy.”
“Daddy, you promised to help me with the project…you promised…And I won’t stall no more. Promise.”
“Michael, if it’s time to go, let go, my child…but if it’s not…come back to us. Your children need you, son…Don’t go yet. You were never supposed to go before me. It’s just not right…”
“Boy, don’t you stop fighting, do you hear? You weren’t raised to be no quitter…don’t you quit now. Your Momma won’t survive this. It’s not right. I know we had our misunderstandings. But she loves you. Come on…keep fighting…”
“Michael, we love you…Come back…”
“Don’t you dare leave. Don’t you leave me, Michael… We’re forever, remember…you don’t get to just forget that and leave me…”
The last voice still rang in his mind. A bell...or an alarm. Whatever it was, it was proof the experience all had been due to some residual sparking of electricity in his brain and not any supernatural line into the thoughts of those who loved him. Because, Lisa, after all, did not love him. Not anymore. Not ever again.
“I love you, Michael…”
Postcoital lies exhaled against his skin as they shuddered in each other’s’ arms. Kissing her shoulder, he savored the taste. Salty. As his tears. It reminded him that he was with her- in that moment. He tried to push away the rising anxiety, knowing the experience was a fleeting bubble…shining and sparkling- and about to bust, making his eyes sting with regret .
“You don’t have to say that…”
Glazed over eyes of pure midnight skies looking up at him from beneath sexy hooded lids.
“I know I don’t…It’s just how I feel.”
“Then why are you married to him.”
Her body stiffened. Something came down in her eyes. The protective layer snapped into place.
“Stop that. He’s not a bad guy, Michael…”
“No, maybe just stupid. Does he know you’re here with me? Does he care?”
“Why do you need to know that?”
“Why do you come back?”
“I never left…don’t you know that by now?”
Laughable. Ridiculous. A stupid lie. Of course she had left. Over and over again. Lisa had elevated abandonment into a recurring event. There should be a “Lisa runs away again” day on his calendar. Except she didn’t bother being regular enough to warrant an entry. Still- she was his Haley’s comet. Reruns shrinking his soul. And yet he waited...couldn’t let go. Stuck. Knowing she’d be around again. Sooner or later. Never failed. Just like she never had the guts to stay.
She left to marry Danny, to have Ben, to go on vacation, to divorce him, to forsake him…to abandon him. Any return was fleeting. At first he thought it was because she could not trust him enough. Then he realized it was because she didn’t trust herself: Trust she was good enough. Trust he actually loved her. How had she not seen? How could she be so blind? She was his everything. She was the apple of his eyes- until she managed to scoop out his core and spit out the bitter seeds. Bullets rendering him blind. But not deaf. Because he heard every bitter word. Screamed at him with both words and -even more destructive- her silent actions.
Lisa had accused him of loving his music, his art, and his fans more than he loved her. That alone had been so utterly painful. And ridiculous. It was never a competition. His music, his art, his fans….they certainly were a part of his completion. But she was the missing puzzle piece. Without her, he was forever wanting. Forever lacking. She was his inspiration, his salvation, his connection to humanity, his eternal pain. In his heart. And often in his ass. But hey- pain was the body’s way to remind humans they are alive and are to strive for perfection. And so often she was that for him: perfection. Maybe it was too much. Maybe she had not possessed the capacity to bear the responsibility of everything she had been to him.
When she finally made that last cut, he knew she had been full of shit. Her brave, ludicrous announcement of indifference was nothing but her rescue boat. A life vest riddled with bullet holes. Their love was too consuming, and she almost had been mauled by the teeth of the demons that rode them before. She had rather slashed herself to pieces than trusted in his love. She had refused her body, her womb to him- out of fear. Simple silly fear. Like he ever would have used a child of theirs against her. He didn’t want to create some musical master race. He wanted to create a lasting symbol of their love. She had refused. Over and over. She had accused him of trapping her. Well, when she denied her heart after he needed her the most, he knew she had gnawed off her limb in desperation. Too bad his own wounds were too lethal to follow her bloody trail in the snow.
No, it didn’t matter. Not anymore. She had made her choice. Safety and comfort. Could he really blame her? Sure, he sneered at her perceived weakness. One of his major faults- to be too prideful. But hey- he was able to look at if from a different point of view: Maybe it indeed had been time for her to move on. To have that guy’s children. Twins… Beautiful baby girls. With hair and eyes like their mother.
Another dude with weak genes. It was almost too funny. Which was why he never bothered to recall the names of the many “that guy-s.” Cage being the exception. At least she hadn’t chosen to run the risk of passing on the furry, bloated gorilla chest with the combover. Michael grinned at the thought.
But hey- maybe that’s what it was. Maybe that was her fear right there. To be obliterated… To have him take over…when she had accused him of hijacking her life, she could still refuse her gene pool. Well, fine. He wished her well. And he tried to create some sort of life. Since then, their conversations had been brief and awkward at the very best. They had one more fight several days before…before his accident. It was difficult to recall the words. But he had no problem remembering the irritation, anger, and feeling of perpetual loss. It had started with his very nice, friendly attempt to reach out and offer her tickets to the shows in London.
No hidden agendas. Not at all.
God! How did he still manage to be so full of shit? He smirked. Then rolled his eyes. Ouch- that crap hurt. Man!
Ok, maybe it was not good practice to lie to himself so soon after almost dying. Maybe there was a small hidden agenda. Other than offering her the hottest ticket in town. He also knew having her backstage had the potential to ignite all kinds of memories. Did he necessarily want her to throw her panties into the wind and jump him? Well..that would have been a nice bonus. But really, the knowledge that she would see him and remember.... Remember everything - that was almost better than the remote possibility of a backstage bootie call.
Lisa was more than hesitant- probably cause she wasn’t a dummy, either. And obviously also not suffering from amnesia. She told him she’d see…which pissed him off royally. She’d see? Did she have to get permission from her ridiculous husband? How come she always became a slave to the men she procreated with? She used to give him hell about making the wrong choice between 1 percent or skim milk, but she became all docile to these other losers she tie herself to. And how come he wasn’t good enough to be the father of her babies- was she afraid to be shackled to him as she was to those losers? When she had sworn over and over again that she loved him unlike anyone else? Well, joke was on Lisa- at least for a long time. Because she didn’t seem capably of breaking away. Until she did.
Then, typical Lisa, she had to turn the conversation on him and started to dig about his supposed slurred tone of voice.
”You realized you will die right?”
“We all die, Lisa. In different ways.”
“Some of us sooner than others at the rate you’re going.”
“You are just too wonderful – thanks for caring.”
The dripping sarcasm surely was almost enough to short circuit the phone.
“Did you call to be an asshole?”
“Maybe I wanted to make sure you still are a self-righteous, judgmental busy body.”
“Ok, this conversation is over, Michael.”
Neither hung up as they both seemed to search for a way out of that labyrinth of pent up resentment. Cause heaven help them if they shone the light on what really was going on.
“Lisa…look. I would like you and the kids to come. Really.”
What he didn’t say: I need you. I’m lost without you. I’m scared shitless. Scared to step out there. Scared what I will find. Scared to know there is no one on this earth to have my back as I venture into the minefield of what used to be the my utmost comfort. The stage.
Did she hear it anyway? Did she know? Or was their connection forever filled with noise and static.... Lost in the swamp of history and anger.
Silence. He could almost see her biting her lip. Gosh, he still knew her so well. Was that what scared her? Well, she should be scared. London had been a new beginning once before. And maybe this time it was he who decided he’d get his woman back.
“I will see…I’m sure Riley and Ben would love to.”
Ahhhhh! Riley and Ben would love to.... How about you, Lisa. What is left in your heart?
She was so frustrating! Why could she not just give in? Maybe, because then the challenge would only be half as great? The lure only half as effective. Funny, because he had to admit that after their marriage there were countless times when Lisa pulling away had lit a fire under his ass like nothing else. And he could swear she knew that. Well, maybe he needed to let go of that rope and let her fall on her shapely behind this time.
“Well, fine. You now what? You just stay in your mediocre life with your mediocre husband and continue being content instead of happy. I’m sorry I asked. God bless, Lisa.”
That time he had hung up. The sound of the line going dead sounded like a lid being slammed on his coffin. Why did everything always go so wrong? Really, he missed her like mad. He was scared shitless of things that could go wrong during these concerts. It had been so long. Performing was before...before he was turned inside out. Before half the world hated him. When he knew all he had to do was step on stage and it would be alright.
Now...it was all different. Foreign. Threatening. Menacing. The pressure to keep going at this neck breaking speed was immense. He had hoped she would be there- that her smile would assure him he was safe. Her eyes would provide refuge. It had all been too hard. No, not hard. Impossible. Every day was another fight. Another pound of flesh cut from his heart. Another pint of blood taken. They treated him like some kind of fucking machine. A dancing bear. Some starving monkey dancing for pennies. It was inhumane. He had no one. Not really. Tears stung his eyes.
Well, dumbass, you might have let her in on all that. Maybe she would not have been such a bitch then?
Maybe. However, chances were, Lisa had her own fears about facing him again. Or maybe not. Possibly, seeing him would remind her how lucky she had been to make that final getaway. Could he really survive looking into those sapphire depths and seeing nothing but regret and disgust? Was it not better to…
What? Stare at the painting he had bought? Reminding him of a time long lost? A time he maybe only had dreamt up to preserve sanity in the eternal darkness?
No- stop it! His spine straightened.
She loved him.
Well, had loved him at one point in time, anyway.
It was ridiculous how this insane struggle between insecurity and cockiness continued to give him whiplash. It didn’t matter anyway. In the end, she had been right- he almost had died. She obviously had the superior crystal ball. He had been so freaking convinced that nothing would happen and that he was in perfectly good hands. How deluded had he been? How much suffering had he caused? And how would he ever atone for it all?
His family looked shellshocked and traumatized when he finally was able again to focus on their faces. Elated at first…crying with joy, bathing him with their interesting version of love. Also, the realization that the ATM hadn’t been closed down probably helped to elevate the euphoria. After all, they had come this close to actually having to shit out their own golden eggs. Never mind- scratch that. Dead superstar brothers probably brought great book and concert deals. Reunion tours, probably. Hm..maybe that haunted shadow in their eyes was a testament to the loss of being able to strike goldl while digging his grave. Well- with the exception of his mother. The remaining darkness in her eyes told of the torture he had inflicted. For once he had earned the guilt they heaped upon his shoulders. Yes, no doubt he had scared the family. And he was sure they’d make him pay another ten lifetimes. Certainly, Jermaine and Randy had not run out of women they’d have to pay alimony and child support to yet. And Janet...he glanced over at his little sister. For all their love they also had a strange competition going. He wondered for a moment what would happen once the other siblings turned to the second famous living Jackson. In a distant argument about supporting Randy, he had asked Janet why she didn’t open her purse.
“Why would I? They know to come to you first...And if that doesn’t work they get mother to work on you. So, I’m in the clear for now, Mike!”
Till he was gone. His death would mean an immense threat to his sister’s assets as the other siblings might turn their greedy eyes on her. His head started to throb. No, he had to stop this. God had not given him a second chance to be a sarcastic, hateful jerk.
Swallowing the strange lemon-lime gooey thing, he put the spoon down and reached for his sister’s hand. God, she looked so tired. He knew they had all been tested to the max. His mother had aged ten years. Even Joseph had looked teary eyed. When he woke up after three days of some odd state they said was a coma, he had been presented with a different world. Suddenly, he was loved again. The golden child. Or the golden almost corpse. Every channel on tv talked about the miracle of his re-birth. MTV did the unimaginable and played music. His music once more.
Images supposedly chronicling the past days of his life assaulted is memory circuits. Images and snippets running on tv...over and over. Was this supposed to be his reality? This was not his life…. This was not his body being loaded into an ambulance, rushed to the hospital…worked on for hours…left barely alive in a coma. These were not his children, suddenly without their masks, holding vigil. This was not his mother begging for privacy.
It was as if the people he knew all had partaken in some odd soap opera.
“Dunk…I’m so sorry. I…I love you… I…”
“Just promise Mike…Promise… No more scary, stupid shit. You just don’t know, man… You just can’t know…” Her head dropped and he noticed tears on her cheeks again. But was it real? Or was it the fear to be besieged by vultures with similar genetic make-up?
“Dunk. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. I just needed to sleep. You don’t know. You just don’t know the pressure.”
“Don’t I? Well, maybe I don’t. But let me tell you:all I know is that I was in New York, when I was told my brother was dying…You…you can’t possibly comprehend what that …” Her voice broke and he pulled her close.
She was right. He’d never been in those shoes before. He remembered when his children were ill and how horrible those instances had been. All the years of strained silence and forced smiles between his sister and him feel away. They were just Dunk and Mike again- holding each other to ward off the fear of monsters in the dark.
“Mike...say something...you look..vacant. Let me go get the doctor. You’re scaring me.”
Oh shoot- how long had he sat there lost in thought? His sister looked at him as if he was slipping into a vegetative state again.
“Dunk, no..it’s fine. I was just thinking. I’m here now. I ain’t leaving…”
“I will kick your ass so hard you wish you had left if you ever scare us like this again. Ever, do you hear?”
“Okay, okay…” He raised his hands in a defensive gesture and giggled, “I won’t! Promise. Just don’t hit me. I’m still recovering.”
Janet hugged him, apologizing profusely when he flinched. Was there anything that was not fucking painful? In the efforts to revive him, two ribs had been broken. So right now, the tally was two broken ribs, a lacerated esophagus from intubation, a scar on his chest, a million bruises, a nice collection of IV inflicted wounds, making him wonder if it he’d ever be waterproof again-…and buckets full of guilt.
Shoot, he never meant to hurt anyone. Certainly not his mother. Maybe not even his sisters. Well, scaring Toya would have been okay, she screamed in a funny way. But seriously, he never intended to inflict that kind of agony on the family. They were a collective pain in the ass- and they used him to no end. But they loved him. In their dysfunctional way.
And his fans…he saw the images of people on their knees, praying, dancing, sobbing…not just in this country, but all over the world. It was startling...humbling... He truly regretted having been the reason for one single tear- and there seemed to have been so much crying.
Well, at least the fan’s tears were genuine and real. He suspected others went trough truckloads of Dry Eyes drops. Long forgotten friends suddenly crawled from their crypts and sang his praises. Some were so ridiculous he wondered if they should not have taken acting classes. How rude of him to almost die with such short notice. Then there were his enemies in the media…who were they talking about? Surely not the man they all had condemned to a life as a pariah? Now he was the musical genius again? All because he almost died? He had not changed…he was the same, identical person he had been that morning when he had begged for sleep. Well, of course, he had not begged to be left alone so that miserable excuse for a doctor could talk up some piece of tail. He had not begged to suffer from respiratory suppression and heart failure. He had certainly not signed up to have his children exposed to the horrific torture of witnessing him almost dead on the floor. Well- the bed first, as that brain dead genius he had hired had initially performed CPR on his bed. Holy shit! Who did that? He was surprised only two ribs were broken.
“Oh, great..she’s at it again..” Janet’s attention was captured by the tv as the image of their sister filled the screen.
“Tonight on Access Hollywood- LaToya Jackson speaks out about the untold horror of having been told three times that her brother’s heart had stopped. And her brave attempts to call him back to life as she sang to him while doctors worked their magic.”
Michael’s mouth dropped open. “I survived her singing? I’m tough as shit!”
Janet laughed, and turned the tv volume up. “I’m surprised myself she said she sang. Sounded like wailing to me at the time.”
They both listened to their sister’s tear-filled account and laughed so hard, Michael almost cried. As painful as it was, it felt so frigging good to hear Jan’s laughter intermixing with his. Their little snide, sarcastic comments bounced of each other, which led to more giggles. Funny, how death makes one bond with siblings he had long since thought he could not trust any longer.
LaToya’s five minutes of fame were almost over when the image on the screen, caused Michael to turn the volume even higher.
“We also tried to get a comment from Michael Jackson’s ex-wife, Lisa Marie Presley, who at current time could not be reached. Reportedly, Elvis’ daughter continues to reside in England, and , according to her mother, Priscilla Presley, the whole family is wishing the King of Pop well. Lisa Marie had released a statement on her blog hours after her former husband was reported to be in a coma, stating she was gutted by the events and was devastated with the possibility of losing, quote: the person I could not help- end of quote, to circumstances so similar to the tragic loss of her father.”
Well, this was rich! Great. What next?
Michael turned the tv off and tossed the remote into a chair across the room. She was gutted? How articulate of her. So, all he had to do was to almost die to get an honest reaction and an official statement about her feeling. Easy as pie. Gutted had to trump indifferent.
Janet stared at him. What? So, he wasn’t allowed to throw things? This was his hospital room last he checked. Okay... Maybe he was a tad bit obvious. He smoothed the blanket across his lap.
“What? The circumstances were not all that similar. I’m alive, and I wasn’t in the bathroom.”
Janet raised a critical eyebrow at his admittedly insensitive statement. With laser precision she went right to the core of the issue.
“Mike, what about Lisa? Obviously your little temper tantrum was motivated by her. Not sure if anyone filled you in: She’s been talking to Mother regularly since..since that day… She is pretty messed up.”
When had he asked for an update on Lisa’s current state of messed-up-ness? He took a deep breath. Calmed his features and his voice.
“Well…that’s…ah.. sweet of her.” So what if his effort to sound heartfelt was half-assed at best?
Janet was not fooled for one minute. Maybe he needed to wait till he ran for recovering saint of the year.
“It’s sweet she’s a mess? Be real for a second. This has been really hard on her, too. Do you…I mean..would you like me to call her for you?”
“Why, did she send flowers or something? Balloons? Dancing penguins? No? Well, where in Exes for Dummies does it say I need to thank her for feeling gutted?”
Janet gazed at him and rolled her eyes.
“Well, if it helps you to be an ass we play it your way for now.”
Really, he had no idea why he was trapped in this whirlpool of anger.
Yeah, remember how you felt when she almost died? How torn up you were? How you wanted nothing more than to reach out to her? Be with her? Forgetting all the anger, all the hurt. Knowing only that you couldn’t lose her. Not then, not ever.
Well, the difference was, he had not declared his undying indifference…
No, you simply had frozen her out without words. After shocking her with the news of Prince, then that sham wedding…
It was ridiculous how repetitive and circular their history was. An eternal ride on a dysfunctional but seductive Merry-Go-Round. Wasn’t it time to hop off? Grow up? Maybe he should call Lisa. Be the smarter, more mature, greater person. His mother had hinted that Lisa would like to talk to him, but had not been sure he’d be receptive to the idea. Too bad he felt a panic attack coming on at the very idea. And why should he? He was fine. Alive. Just about jumping around again. She had a tv and probably newspapers over there in England. She was in the know. And probably already had cleansed herself of any inconvenient feelings in some sort of screaming and defecating ritual.
God! Janet was right. He was an ass! Lisa was not a bad person. He was certain she had been appropriately sad and upset when she thought he died. But now he had committed the ultimate faux-pas and had dared to remain alive. So now what? He was pretty certain she had stuffed all those odd, and no doubt inconvenient, feelings and emotions behind her stupid mask of reason so promoted by the money sucking idiots she called her religion.
So, no. Lisa was no doubt just peachy. The premature news of his passing might have left her with some blisters, but the balm of her self-righteous and never ending ability to live in denial would help her rationalize the pain away.
To seal the deal and distract him from any more unpleasant thoughts, he gulped down another spoon of green goo.
++++++++++++
(To be continued....soon. :) )
©2013 Erika B Michaels. All Rights Reserved. This story is a work of fiction. Any names, places, and other identifying features are used in a fictional manner, for entertainment purposes only, and are in no way representative of actual events. This work may not be reproduced, copied, transmitted, or stored without expressed written permission by Erika B Michaels. All photos and images, mentioned songs or song titles are copyright their creators. ABSOLUTELY no disrespect is intended to any persons portrayed in this work.
