You Give Me Fever || Michael Jackson

Chapter 63: Eulogy

Becky's POV

July 30, 1993

My hands reach up to gently push Ollie's black tie up, and the warmest smile I can muster forms on my face for him, because I know he's dying inside.

"You're going to be okay," I assure him. "You've got your speech planned, and everyone will love it, sweetie."

A single tear rolls down his little cheek, before a sigh escapes my lips. He must really be hurting.

Today is the day of Virginia's funeral, so he and Jason are naturally on a low. Me and Michael are trying to smile for them, but we're upset about it, too.

Perhaps, to lighten the mood, I should mention that Jasper and Charlie had their wedding earlier this month, and now they're married. It was a beautiful event, and it's only made me even more excited for my own wedding ... whenever it may be.

I should also say that we've now officially adopted Jason and Ollie. Someone from the adoption place came to have a thorough check through our house to see how suitable the environment is ... and they said it was perfect.

So now ... Jason and Ollie are our adoptive sons. We don't expect them to call us mommy and daddy; we don't even expect them to think of us as parents. Just carers.

"Becky?" I hear Michael's voice from the hallway.

"Michael?" I imitate his tone of voice.

"I-I think you better come here."

I quickly dry the tear from Ollie's little eyes, before heading out the living room, into the hallway.

It's there that I see Michael, in his black suit and black tie, his hair tied back into its normal pony tail.

But then, I turn my attention towards the staircase, finding Jason sat on the step. Well, I say sat – he's more sprawled across a few steps, lying on his front – so I can't see his face.

"Jason ... what's wrong?" I ask softly.

Walking up the first couple steps, I reach him, and pat his arm gently to catch his attention.

"Jason?" I repeat.

"He's nervous about today ... and he's hurting inside," Michael explains. "We were having a pep talk about his speech, and we somehow came onto the subject of his father. Now, well ... yeah, you can see."

I knit my eyebrows together sadly, sitting on the steps with Jason.

"Sweetie ... why are you worried about your father?" I question.

He finally lifts his head, and I immediately notice that his eyes are red and his cheeks are wet from his crying.

No teenage boy ... or anyone ... should have to go through this.

"I-I'm not stupid Becky," he answers shakily, "I know how mom died."

"You do?" I whisper, a sense of worry taking over me, let alone him.

"Dad killed her ... didn't he?"

A sigh escapes my lips once again, as I give a small smile to comfort him.

"Well ... I-I ... we just aren't letting you near your father, Jason. He said it would be best if you didn't see him again."

"But why? Why doesn't he want to see us? Did we do something wrong? Did we—?"

"Hey, hey, hey," Michael interrupts, "Of course you didn't do anything wrong. Your father is just ... stubborn. You don't want to see him again, I tell you."