Saving Michael Jackson

Goodbye Ryan White

"I'm worried about Ryan." Michael's voice was unusually quiet.

He sat beside me in the limousine, staring out the tinted window as Los Angeles passed by outside. His fingers absentmindedly turned over a signed photograph in his lap.

"I haven't had time to visit him," Michael continued softly. "But I got the autograph he wanted." He smiled sadly at the photograph before looking away again.

"He'll be okay," I said. The words left my mouth automatically. A lie. A horrible lie. Because I knew better. I knew Ryan was in the hospital. I knew his condition was getting worse.
And deep down, I knew there was nothing I could do. Just like before. Just like every terrible thing I wanted to stop and couldn't.

The limousine slowed before coming to a stop in front of a large hotel. Bodyguards immediately stepped out and surrounded the vehicle. The door opened.

"Come on," one of them said.

Michael climbed out first, then offered me his hand.

"What are we doing here?" I asked as we entered the hotel lobby.

The polished marble floors reflected the crystal chandeliers hanging overhead.

Michael looked at me. "Did you want to go somewhere else?" he asked.

I blinked. "What?"

Before he could answer, we stepped into an elevator. As the doors closed, a familiar voice echoed faintly through the hallway. A very loud familiar voice. Wanda. Michael sighed. I laughed. The elevator reached the top floor. The moment we stepped into the corridor, Wanda's shouting
became crystal clear.

"She is fucking missing!" Wanda yelled from inside the room. "Missing, Brian!"

Michael unlocked the hotel room. The second the door opened, Wanda's voice practically exploded through the room.

"I know my sister!" she screamed into the phone. "Go fuck yourself, you hear me?"

Michael slowly closed the door behind us. The three of us stood there in silence. Wanda didn't even notice we'd arrived. She was pacing across the room like a storm. Then suddenly she froze.
Her shoulders dropped. The phone slipped from her hand.

"Fuck!" Wanda shouted.

She threw the phone onto the couch and covered her face. Michael immediately walked toward her.

"Hey," he said gently. "What happened?"

Wanda lowered her hands. Her eyes were red.

"Brian," she whispered. "My uncle." She swallowed hard. "He says he knows where my sister is."

Michael knelt beside her. "That's good, isn't it?"

Wanda shook her head violently. "No." Her voice cracked. lHe says Julia lives in Indianapolis."

The room fell silent.

"On her own," Wanda continued. "Like she just left." Tears filled her eyes. "That's not true." She looked at us desperately. "Julia is missing."

Michael rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "We'll go check."

"I don't know." Wanda sat on the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I don't know anything anymore."

For a moment nobody spoke. The sight of her like that hurt. Wanda was stubborn. Loud. Annoying. Fearless. Seeing her scared felt wrong. Like seeing a mountain crack. I looked toward the window. If my mother disappeared one day... Even after everything between us... I didn't know what I'd do.