Michael Jackson Imagines and Short Stories

I Remember

I Remember: 5

I don't remember how long I sat there, but I waited and thought long about the first question that I would ask. I thought through elaborate setups, but it ended up being directly simple,

"Why?"

I remember his face. From stone to frown lines. The emotion splattered across. I tried to keep composed, but I couldn't handle myself. I lost grip on my cloak of no emotion and I repeated,

"Why? Why? Why! WHY!" Until I screamed it. He tried to reach for me, but I jerked away from his hands yelling for him not to touch me. I knew that it hurt him, but in that moment, none of those things concerned me. In that moment, I was vulnerable, standing in front of my attacker. He looked down to his hands, and then commenced his explanation,

"We thought that this would be best. We didn't see any other way to protect you from-"

"Don't give me that! I've heard all that before! You tell me. Tell me why you stayed away, when you could sit in disguise in Disneyland and enjoy anonymity. Why you didn't stop at my house when you visited fans and sick children, and give me a piece of your time like you did for them. Tell me why you didn't see me when you invited hundreds of other children to your home. You couldn't invite me? Your daughter? Was I not good enough? Was your own blood not good enough? Was I not special? Tell me WHY! And tell me how you can now have me in your house and act like none of this is happening? You tell me that. Make that make sense to me."

I was in hysterics by the pinnacle. Uncontrollably crying. He silently watched as I paced, and stomped, and kicked, and spun. He sat there looking at me go through this internal rollercoaster and just followed me with his eyes. He was just still. Let me be. Now I understand how hard that must have been for him. Watching me and not being able to help. Having his love shot right back at him. The rejection that I had so desperately been trying to avoid, I was giving to a man that I would love. Who loved me from the core of his being. I took this love that spread far and wide, rolled it into a ball and threw it back at him with all of my might. I can't imagine what that felt like. I try not to think of it now...

He slowly eked out,

"Because I love you." I glared at him, forcing more of a response out. He said,

"I mean, I loved you enough then, to let you go. Your mother did not want you to be under the scrutiny that would have ensued and I agreed with her. We wanted your life to be untouched. Staying with me or having you near me would have been dangerous because I knew that I wouldn't let you go. Once I saw you again, had you within my grasp, I wouldn't be able to sacrifice any longer. You can't understand it now but the thought of having you near me for a moment, just for you to be torn away again was unbearable. More so than the destructive reality of not having you with me in order to protect you. Keeping you with me often was not an option. We knew so because of the situation with Obee. All of the rumors. It's just disgusting. People make things up. All the time, and especially about me. I wanted you clear of that. Your mother and I -we - wanted you clear of that. It breaks my heart knowing that this has caused you so much pain. Booga, I never meant for any of this to hurt you. I never ever wanted anything for you but a happy free life. Please, if nothing else, know that I love you so much and you know that your mother does too. You are so loved." All I did was stare at him for a while. Searching his face. Searching his lines for truth. Scouring his eyes for the slightest, nearly imperceptible flicker, to give me direction. Finally, I found what I was looking for...