To Have and To Hold

Chapter 19

May 1997, Paris France

Michael sat in the rocking chair, softly singing to Prince. It looked like the little man was finally asleep. Poor little guy had been fussy and according to the nanny difficult to deal with. Not that he minded ...he would happily sit here all night with his son. And all day, too. Flying in tonight, he had headed straight to what he called his headquarter in Paris during the European leg of the tour. Here, he would be allowed to spend as much time with his little sunshine as possible. The pediatrician had advised against objecting the three month old baby to too many trips, but he felt he simply could not survive without him. So, for now- he would use the hours he would otherwise spent awake and tortured or in some drug induced, comatose sleep to fly to see his baby boy.

Paris was chosen for its central location. Of course, it also held huge sentimental value for him. How he had loved seeing it while being surrounded by the blue light of those sparkling eyes.

Don't! Don't think about her again. You know what it causes. You need to stay away from her. Even in your thoughts. That, and that alone will keep you sane- and keep her safe.

After Janet had told him about the rumors that Lisa had been found on her bathroom floor in a puddle of her own blood, having torn herself to shreds in some sort of self-inflicted castigation, he had attempted to move heaven and hell to find out what was really going on. He started to research self-injurious behavior, hoping what he'd find would rule out any such action. He knew Lisa after all...and this was so totally out there.

What he read did nothing to calm his nerves or his fears. Was she really in that much pain that inflicting physical agony was the only way to stop her from hurting? He read those cuts most often were not aimed at suicide, but were instead a call for help. She had people around her- why were they all deaf to her needs?

He also started to go over every argument, every confrontation, every at the time meaningless exchange they had ever had with a fine-tooth comb. How in the world had he missed the signs of how deep her grief and sadness ran? Was he too focused on his own internal experience to see what had been right infront of him? He had loved her so completely and deeply- but how much did he really know about what was going on inside that gorgeous head? His art always required to focus on the emotions and flashes he received and how he processed them. Had that intense focus directed on his inner experiences and their artful manifestations made her somehow feel ignored? No, he knew he had told her on numerous occasions in millions of actions and words how much he loved her. Her words about feeling like a piece of furniture pierced his eardrum with their atonal impact and he cringed.

How had things gone from him worshiping her to her feeling ugly and unloved? Why had she not been able to understand that his wish to have a child with her was simply an extension of his love?

He was this close to putting it all together. He even had considered going to see her- find out from the source what the hell she had been doing- and if he was the reason.

Then the call came. He almost dropped the phone when he heard his former mother in law on the line. In her usual irritating, superior manner, she informed him she had been made aware that he was making certain inquiries about Lisa. Michael neither acknowledged or denied. This was not any of the witches' business.

"Michael- I ask this of you and please do not take this lightly. You surely must know that asking anything of you is like eating a bag of worms to me."