February 7th, 1991
Dear Diary,
Things keep on being crazier since I've met Michael, it's like my life has become a mess. I am a mess. I jeopardized my job and entire career because I was too upset by everything I was feeling deep inside.
My emotions are all over the place, and I still don't understand why. It's like I am not the only one to control my body and mind now, and that, somehow, my choices are influenced by something. I can't put in words how I feel, because I'm a tortured by different emotions: anger, a bit of happiness, fear, sorrow,... But most of all, I feel lonely. This loneliness is transparent for most people yet omnipresent for me.
I don't know why I feel so empty while I should feel so full with everything that's been going on in my life recently. Maybe because I miss mom and dad? Because I know they would help me the best they could if they were here.
But why feel so lonely when I have my best friend and my grandmother beside me?
Why do I have to feel so empty when I have so much to deal with?
The session with Dr. Olson didn't bring me much a few days ago. I knew he wouldn't be able to help me if I didn't tell him everything about me. He says I need time to open up to people, and he's definitely right. Alice had to wait years before I told her everything, so opening up to a stranger was never on my to-do list. So he just sits there, and listens to whatever I have to tell him: how I feel after my coma, how mad I am to be away from the children of the hospital for a week, how I hate when the weather is so cold...
Basically everything but what really bothers me.
"Girl, what the hell are you doing? It's not even six in the morning," Al's raspy voice was heard, and instantly, I turned my head toward the bed to see her sleepy face.
"I couldn't sleep," I just shrugged, as I closed my journal and put it at my feet on the window's seat. "Go back to sleep," I gently told her with a little smile as I focused on her again.
"We're going to find a plan," she reassured, sliding her legs out of the bed, and sat at the edge of it. "I promise you this."
"It's been four days, and we still didn't do anything with DiLeo's number. We looked at all aspects of this problem, but still, we didn't find what we were supposed to do with it."
"Then we'll think harder," my friend reassured me in a soothing voice, as she now sat in front of me on the window's seat I loved so much. She looked by the window for a moment, as silence settled in the room again. The only sound that was heard were the ones of our breathing. Al sighed heavily, and finally, she broke the silence. "Everything here is so peaceful."
"That's why I love this place so much," I admitted with a little smile, as I looked in the same direction as her. "When are you planning on coming home?"
"I wish I never had to," she almost whispered, her eyes still glued to the window. "I don't want to be in the middle of another argument between my drunk brother and his wife. It's just too much I can take."
"He doesn't want to sign the divorce papers, does he?"
"No," Al sighed, and put put her back against the window. "He wants her to give him time to get back on his feet, but she won't give him the time he needs. She wants him to find a job as soon as possible and to man up for their kids. But life ain't that fucking easy."
"Tell me about it," I snorted sarcastically. "The real question is; does he want to get better? Does he really want to find a job and stop drinking?"
"He tells me he wants to, but whenever I see him, he's drinking a beer on the couch, doing nothing," she shrugged, and exhaled heavily. "I can't throw him out of my house. He's my brother."
"Adam has always been a bit reckless, but he'll eventually stop drinking, and start looking for a job," I reassured, patting my friend's knee gently. I could see she was stressed out by all of this, and suddenly, a wave of guilt captured me. "Oh God, no. I'm so sorry you have to deal with your brother's problems and mine. It was selfish from me to put you through all of this. I—I'm sorry, Al."
"Finding Michael Jackson is far from being a problem," Al chuckled slightly, and I chuckled along with her, as a weight was taken off of my shoulders. "More seriously, I don't mind at all. I'm glad we're in this together," she sincerely said, and my heart warmed up at her words. "Now, I know it looks like we're not getting anywhere, but we are. We just need time to find a plan."
"I really don't see how his manager's number can be useful. We can't just call the number and ask if we can talk to Michael. It's stupid."
Alice hummed silently, nodding her head. Silence filled the room again, as we were both deep in our thoughts. The sun was slowly rising just before my eyes, and I found some comfort in it. Nature was always soothing to me, as it had the power to amaze me. Watching the sun set and the break of dawn was certainly one of the things I loved the most.
"Maybe we can process differently," Al suddenly said, and I looked from the window to her.
"Can you elaborate?" I gently asked her, as I leaned closer to her.
"I—I mean, it can be difficult and somehow risked, but I think it could work," she told me, as she looked at me with a newly found hope in her green, piercing eyes.
"What? What could work, Al?" I pressed, frowning.
"Maybe he could come back to the hospital? Like, if you tell his manager that the kids want Michael to come back, maybe he'll accept?"
I laughed at that, "Do you really think he'd come back, in the same hospital, to see the same kids?" I asked, and my friend just shrugged. "Al, I'm sure he has better things to do than this. It won't work."
"Do you even have a better idea than that?"
"I—," I stopped and sighed heavily. "No, I don't."
"Then let's try," she encouraged me, putting her hand on my knee. "Girl, we need to do everything in our power so that you can meet him. You saw yourself and Michael together, here," she explained in a soothing voice, pointing the floor with her index finger. "That means you'll make it. We will make it. You'll meet him, and you'll help him."
"Thing aren't that easy, Al. You said it was risked, but it's actually insane. Even if he does accept, how am I gonna explain this shit to Baker? To Carl? How am I supposed to tell them I brought Michael freaking Jackson at the hospital without their consent?"
"And we're not supposed to have his manger's number, since we broke into Bakdr's office," Al added, looking into space. "Shit," she muttered, as she rubbed her hands over her face in frustration. "I swear we're going to find a way, girl."
"We will," I said, trying to sound the more confident possible.
At that instant, I really wanted to believe Al, but I just couldn't. I was losing hope. I thought over and over again about something I could do to finally be able to get in touch with Michael, but everything seemed simply impossible. I could try to call this number, but what would I say? Would his manager take me seriously when I tell him that I need to talk to Michael? Or would he just laugh at me and hang up on me?
It was frustrating to know that I would somehow meet him and be a part of his life without knowing how to do it. Maybe it was it, after all. Maybe I didn't have to try, that it would just happen.
"Do you trust me?" Al asked, and I came back to reality at the sound of her voice. "Do you?" she asked again when my eyes met hers.
"I do," I told her, nodding my head. "We're gonna find a way. Together."
"Together," she repeated with a little smile.
Silence fell upon the both of us again, as we both looked through the window to the city that was slowly waking up. I knew Michael was somewhere out there, and that, without knowing it, he was waiting on me. Waiting on me to save him from whatever was about to happen in his life.
He needed me, and I knew that, somehow, I would be able to help him.
I was sure about it, for my visions never failed to reveal the truth.
"I need coffee," I declared, exhaling loudly, as I stood up from the window's seat. "You're coming down?"
"I'll join you in a few," she answered with a little smile, her eyes never leaving the window.
I simply nodded, and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Having Al around was a true blessing. Since John and I broke up, the loft kind of lost its soul when I lost him, for he made this place so much happier and alive just by his being here.
But Al somehow replaced him. Her laughter and joy surrounded me every single day, and it reminded me of the good old days. Those days, sometimes weeks during school breaks, that we spent over at my childhood home, braiding each others' hair and talking about boys, were the happy memories I kept of my teenage years. She was always around, back in the days, and this few days spent with her reminded me of all of that.
As I was making coffee, I surprisingly smiled at my own thoughts. It was a true smile, a sincere and genuine one, and it felt like ages I didn't smile this way. I took two mugs out of the cabinet, and mechanically, I took this particular mug for myself. The mug I saw Michael holding in his hands in my recent flashes. Over the days, it became my favorite one, and I never bothered asking myself why.
Footsteps were heard in the stairs behind me, as I poured the brown beverage in Al and I's mugs. I didn't forget to put sugar in my friend's one, and put some cream out of the fridge to put it into mine.
"You seem in a good mood this morning," Al chuckled, as she sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island. "What are you on?"
"What makes you think I'm in a good mood?" I wondered, snorting slightly.
"Girl, I heard you sing from upstairs," she giggled, as I put her cup of coffee on the table in front of her. "What's the song?"
"I wasn't singing," I frowned, as I sat down in front of her. "Now you hear voices, girl. Must be because of the lack of sleep."
"Brit, come on! Admit it, you were singing, and now you're embarrassed I heard you because you really are an awful singer," she snickered, before drinking a sip of her coffee.
"I swear I didn't sing," I assured her, very confused by what she said. "Or maybe I didn't realize I was. Is this even possible?"
"You're Hayley Katherine Thames. Everything's possible with you," she joked, but I didn't laugh along with her. "So you can't tell me what song you were singing? Because I've never heard it."
"No, I can't remember," I frowned, rubbing my forehead. "What were the words?"
"Uhh, something about remembering the past, like 'do you remember the time when we fell in love?' I think. Something like that. Then I think you sang about being on the phone with someone from night to dawn," she explained, and I frowned some more, utterly confused. "Rings a bell?"
"No, I have no idea what this song is, I swear," I admitted. "Must be a song I wrote in my dream," I joked, while I wasn't in the mood for it: I was freaking out deep inside.
It's like I lost control, and I hated that.
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A/N: Remember Dangerous wasn't out at the time. That's why the girls don't know about Remember The Time just yet. Well, apparently Brit does...