Being with Michael: Part 1 (Book Two)

Chapter Forty Seven

A roar suddenly erupts from the forest and Paige yells with her sandwich still in her mouth, garbling up her words, "The concert's starting now!"

Michael cringes from the sound, "Yeah, I see what you mean now about how it was going to get loud. God, that's crazy!"

Paige finishes chewing her sandwich and wipes her face with a napkin, holding up a finger signaling Michael to give her a second. Then she nods and says, "That's the kind of effect you have on people."

Michael refutes that, "But it's not even me. I don't get it."

Paige shrugs and tells him, "It's the second best thing."

Michael looks away as he thinks about this and he hears a drum roll start to begin. Paige cocks her head to one side as she studies his face, waiting for a reaction, but it looks like he's just sitting there and soaking in the sound of the concert.

He sits there and listens to the beat start and he plays it off in his head as the crowd cheers. He thinks that this is the first time he's ever been able to experience his concert, or what would be his concert, and the transmission of the music to the heart of the crowd from an outside point of view. It's almost what you could call magic, he thinks.

Paige leans forward in her chair and Michael faces her with a gleam showing in his eyes. She takes his hands in hers, resting her arms on her knees and looks into Michael's eyes.

"You know, when I was about seven or so, and I came here that one night and I heard your music, I didn't know who it was. I didn't know who's music it was. But it was by far the biggest reaction from a crowd I had ever heard, and it was like it was pumping this new energy through my little body," she laughs and shakes her head at herself.

"I just went right out onto that court right there and danced and I kept dancing until I couldn't stop, and it was then that I knew what freedom felt like, and what happiness could feel like. I even did my first flip. I remember it so clearly, I just had so much adrenaline, I didn't know what to do with it, so I just tucked and spun, nearly breaking my foot. But from then on, that was it, I was hooked. The next day I made sure to run to the local record store in town, and I asked the manager who it was that had performed here the night before."

Michael smiles and nudges her, "See, you were still cute at seven years old."

Paige smiles, "Well, I am pretty adorable," she jokes.

She goes on telling her story, "Then the manager said to me, 'It was a tribute band for Michael Jackson. You know, MJ.' And I just stared at him with a blank face because I had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. I grew up poor; I never had a car, a TV, or a radio, so I was limited in my entertainment options. Then I remember his mouth just dropping and him going, 'Oh NO, you have to get Thriller!' Then when I explained to him I didn't have any money, he said, 'What could you do for me if I give it to you for free?' It took me but a second to yell out, 'Give me a week and I'll come back and perform it for you!' He smiled and looked impressed and we had a deal, but then I realized I didn't have anything to play the album on. All he said to me was, 'Well then I guess you're just going to have to come back here tomorrow and I'm going to have to show you a few things.' And the first thing he showed me was your music videos on TV. His name was Adam and he let me use this little room in the back of his shop as a dance room for years. He even put the mirrors up himself; he was my best friend."

Michael's keeping himself from crying while listening to her telling him this story. It's not sad tears, it's kind of happy tears. Thank God for Adam, he thinks.

"What happened to Adam after those couple of years?" Michael asks Paige, wondering.

"He was getting up there in age and one day he had a stroke. Unfortunately, he had to move back to Iowa with his family so they could take proper care of him. There was nobody to take over the store for him, and nobody was willing to buy it. So shop closed up and he packed up and left. Watching the front windows of the store get boarded up and saying goodbye to him were probably the hardest things I had gone through in my life at that moment in time."

Paige's lip quivers thinking about all that's happened in her life. "Aw, come here," Michael tries to comfort her as he leans forward and wraps his arm around her, pulling her in closer to him.

He has his hand resting on her head, which is leaning against his chest for support and he just keeps his hand there for as long as he holds her.

He rests his chin on her head and says, "Come on, it's all going to be okay."

"That's the point, Michael, I'm not so sure," Paige says as she pulls away from him. Her mascara is smeared around her eyes and cheeks from the tears and Michael reaches his hand out to try to wipe it off, but as his finger graces her face, she flinches and pulls away from him.

"Paige?" Michael's confused at what's going on now because she's acting like she's upset with him. "What's wrong?"

Paige swallows and her words come out sounding heavy, "Michael, you're not going to like what I have to tell you next."

He draws back from her and studies her face, "What do you mean?" He almost doesn't want to know.

Her body is shaking and her stomach flips over in unerring fear. She can't make herself look him in the eye; she can barely make herself tell him the truth about her rocky past.

"Once I was placed in the foster care system, and especially once I was in college, I got involved with the wrong people and the wrong things in order to make money and pay my way through," she says, barely audible. "Um, oh God. I don't know how to say this, but what you said about gangs and people selling themselves out, it looks like I did that, because I got involved with gangs at one point..."

"WHAT?" Michael jumps up off the bench, turning to face her. "You are not telling me you were in a gang, Paige. You couldn't have done that! Please tell me you didn't do that!"

"Michael, please! Listen to me!" Paige begs with him.

He puts his hands to his head as he thinks and then he asks her, almost scolding her, "And why didn't you tell me this before? You're my wife!"

Paige is crying and trying to explain to him, praying that he'll understand. "Because you never asked! You never asked me about my past and what I did! And I was so worried with you being all Mr. Heal the World that if I told you, you would never love me, so I thought it would be best not to tell you."

Michael's still confused and furious, and he's crying because he can't believe that this is happening right now.

"I never asked you because it was always a touchy subject for you! I never wanted to bring up anything that caused pain for you or bad memories, I just wanted to focus on the GOOD, Paige! And now I know why it was always such a touchy subject for you! I trusted you, you told me to trust you!" Michael scolds her.

Paige's face looks tortured in pain as she sobs, but she begs with him, "Michael, I know that in no way anything I can say will ever change anything, but if you'll give me the chance to explain, I can share everything with you. But I know that I've caused you so much pain right now and if you decide that you don't want to talk about it, I understand. Anything that you decide to do and anything that happens from here on out is all up to you, but think about it, please, Michael."

Michael watches her as she turns her wheelchair around and starts making her way back down the pathway. Then he justs stands there motionless as tears make their way down his face before they drop off his chin and splash onto the ground below.

He hears a car door close shut and he moves his eyes toward the gravel road. He stares as the SUV backs up and turns around and makes it way back out the road. All he sees is the red lights of the SUV, blurred from the night and the tears in his eyes.

Then the blurred red lights gradually turn to white ones as another SUV approaches the park. Paige left in the last one, but she made sure Michael still had a ride. So she knew this was going to happen, he thinks.

He slowly moves back to the bench, his body feeling like an anchor against gravity. He drops down onto the bench and, supporting his arms with his elbows on his knees, places his head in his hands and screams out all of his anger and frustration. Then he breaks down sobbing and the tears soak his hands covering his face.