With Michael

Chapter 44 - Fortune

17th of June, 1996
Brooklyn is 30, Michael is 37

Brooklyn: I bounced my leg anxiously as I waited for Frank to pick up.

I wasn't surprised when he didn't answer. He and Michael were at a meeting about the tour.

Damn it.

Taking a glance at all five of the positive pregnancy tests that lay next to the sink, I tried again.

Finally, he answered.

"We are in the middle of a meeting, Brooklyn!" he sounded irritated.

"I know, I just really need Michael right now. Tell him it's important." I said.

"I can't just take him out of the room."

"Frank, you and I both know that if you want to, you can. So just do it."

He sighed, "Give me a few minutes."

I waited for what seemed like forever until I heard Michael.

"Babe? Is everything okay?"

My eyes watered when I thought of the little peanut inside of me.

"I'm pregnant." I told him.

I could tell he was smiling as he spoke.

"Okay. I'll be home in two hours. In the meantime, I want you to rest in bed." he said softly.

~

Michael: I hung up and gave Frank his phone.

"Tell them I had something important to do at home." I said.

"Michael, this meeting is important! Do you want to go on tour or not?" Frank looked shocked.

"Of course I do, Frank," I rolled my eyes. "But I have a scared wife at home I have to get to."

He groaned, "But-"

"But nothing, Frank. Just call Steve to take me home."

My manager mumbled something on his way back to the room where all the big Sony executives sat.

~

Brooklyn: For the next two hours I did as Michael said; I stayed in bed.

Worries filled my head instantly. And every time I told myself everything was okay, they came back.

I was so relieved when Michael walked into our bedroom. I couldn't read his expression, though. On the phone he sounded so excited and happy.

"Dr. James agreed to see us tomorrow at noon." he informed.

I nodded, closing my eyes.

Michael sighed loudly and came into bed with me.

"Do we have to go?" I asked, afraid of getting bad news.

"We have to make sure everything's alright, Brooke," he answered as he stroked my arm soothingly. "You'll see, everything will be just perfect."

"I hope you're right."

"I know I am. You gotta have some faith in this, babe."

"I do." I said. It was partly true.

~

18th of June, 1996
Brooklyn is 30, Michael is 37

Brooklyn: Please. Please, God, let this baby survive.

I kept praying in my head the whole ride to Dr. James' clinic.

Michael had his hand on my thigh as he tried to calm me down.