Saving Michael Jackson

It's Okay, Wanda

The drive back from the funeral was painfully quiet. No one spoke. The only sound inside the car was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional noise from the tires rolling over the road. Outside, Indianapolis passed by in a blur of gray skies and empty streets.

I sat beside Michael, staring out the window.
Ryan was gone. Even now, it didn't feel real.
Just hours ago, we'd been standing beside his casket. Just hours ago, we'd watched his mother say goodbye to her son. Maybe that was why nobody was talking. What was there to say? No words could fix any of it.

After several minutes, Michael finally broke the silence.

"Where did you say your sister lives?" Michael asked Wanda gently.

Wanda looked up from her lap. "Oh no, come on. I don't want to—"

"The funeral is over," Michael interrupted softly. "I told you we're going to see her, didn't I?" He offered her a small smile.

Wanda hesitated. "It's six blocks away from the church," she admitted quietly.

"Okay," Michael said, tapping Bill's shoulder.
"Bill, drive us there."

Bill nodded and started the car.

For the first time all day, Wanda looked hopeful.
"Do you think I'll find her?" she asked.

Michael smiled. "We'll see."

The neighborhood was peaceful. Small houses lined both sides of the street. Children rode bicycles in the distance. A dog barked somewhere behind a white fence. It looked normal. Too normal. I couldn't help thinking Wanda's uncle had lied to her. How could her missing sister suddenly be living here? None of it made sense.
Still, we followed Wanda down the sidewalk.
Michael walked beside me while several bodyguards stayed behind us. Finally, Wanda stopped in front of a small house. Number 48. She froze. For a moment, nobody moved. Then she knocked. The wait felt endless. I glanced at Michael. He glanced back at me. Neither of us said anything. Then the door opened.
A young woman with long brown hair appeared.
I blinked. That was Wanda's sister? They looked nothing alike. Wanda stared at her. The woman stared back. Neither spoke. Finally, the woman broke the silence.

"How did you find me?" Julia asked quietly.

So it really was her. Relief flooded through me. I smiled at Michael. He smiled back. But Wanda wasn't smiling.

"This is what you say to me?" Wanda asked bitterly. "After all these years? 'How did you find me?'"

Julia looked away. "I didn't need you or anyone else to find me, Wanda."

The words hit like a slap. Michael gently touched my arm. Without speaking, we stepped farther away to give them privacy. Unfortunately, privacy didn't matter much when both sisters were yelling.

"You know what?" Wanda shouted. "Brian was right."

Julia flinched.

"All this motherfucking time," Wanda continued, tears filling her eyes, "I spent every day searching for you. Going house to house asking where you were. Breaking laws. Getting into fights with dangerous people." She pointed toward us. "These two almost died because I wanted to find you!"

Julia's eyes immediately filled with tears.

"You know Mom got sick?" Wanda yelled.

Julia's face went pale.

"Of course you don't! Because you sat here in this nice house while I searched for you!"

"I-I didn't know Mom—" Julia tried.

"You know nothing!" Wanda shouted. The pain in her voice made my chest ache. Then her expression hardened. The way it did whenever she was hurt beyond repair.