Time can't heal a broken heart. But, it can break a waiting heart.
For the past thirteen hours, my eyes have been glued to the tv screen, waiting on news of
him. Waiting on something. Someone to tell me anything. Always waiting.I refused to think about my current predicament. How could I when this all felt so real? And if I could save him in this time/world/alternate universe, then I didn't want to go back.
"No word yet on that status of pop star, Michael Jackson. Sources say a random call alerted paramedics of his condition. "How" this individual new remains a controversial subject. Whoever you are, I'm sure the Jackson Family is very grateful." The blonde reporter said all of this, staring directly into the camera, as if to tease me. "I will--."The tv shut off abruptly. I turned around from my position on the couch and glared at my sister, who I knew had turned it off. Charlie stood behind the couch, waving the remote in the air, almost daring me to choke the life out of her.
"Charlie, please give me the remote." I hissed through clinched teeth.
She pursed her lips to the side. "Moping around the house like this is not helping."
"I'm not moping!" I grunted.
"Why do you care about that weirdo so much, anyway? You don't even know him."
I reached up and snatched the remote out her hand, smiling inwardly as she flinched. "First of all, he's not a weirdo. Don't say that again." I pressed the power button on the remote, sighing as I saw the weather report pop up.
I didn't give a fuck about weather! Tell me if he's alive, goddamit!
Charlie plopped down on the couch next to me. "Mom's working late today. So, you have to make dinner."
I snorted. "Order a pizza."
She fixed her eyes on the tv screen. "What are you going to do if he dies? Like..."
My heart sped up at her words. "He won't. He's going to be fine."
"No. Seriously." She pressed.
I fixed a steely gaze upon her. "Die. I would lay down and die--I can't go through that again."
Charlie smirked. "You say it like you've already gone through it. The only thing that ever died was your goldfish, Nemo."
For a brief second, I had forgotten about my current predicament. No one could know or they would think I was crazy. Thinking fast, I covered my own mistake. "Yeah, and when Nemo died, I was devastated wasn't I?"
"You were eight!" She laughed.
I smiled at her. "Doesn't change the fact that it nearly killed me."
"You killed that fish. Anyways, I'm about to order some pizza." She said, pointedly, reaching for the house phone and presumably getting ready to dial the number to Pizza Hut.
In my defense, I didn't kill that fish. I forgot to feed it a couple of times and it died. Then again, who springs that much responsibility on an eight year old? My mother never bought me another pet. How I had begged her for an Alaskan Malamute over the years!
A shrill ringing brought me out of my thoughts. Charlie glanced at the caller id on the phone, frowned and showed me the number. It was an 818 number. Having lived in Los Angeles my entire life, the only area codes I knew were 310 and 323.
I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally. She was free to answer or ignore as she pleased. On the fourth ring,she pressed talk and held the phone to her ear. She reached for the remote, muting the tv so if I strained hard enough, I could hear both sides of the conversation. The voice on the other end, however, was extremely soft and slightly muffled.
"Hello?" Charlie breathed into the receiver.
I was barely able to make out the name "Michael" on the other end. I raised an eyebrow and Charlie just shook her head.
"Here." She handed me the phone and sat staring at me, expectantly.
I pressed the phone to my ear and immediately recognized the soft voice that spoke in the seconds after.
"I just want to..to thank you for giving my son his life. Giving him a second chance. Michael is alive because of you."
As if she could see the future, "Michael Jackson In Stable Condition" flashed across the screen almost two seconds later.
I swallow hard. My eyes burn with tears and I blink them away before they can fall. "He's alive." I said, my voice such a foggy croak, I didn't expect her to hear it.
Charlie is trying to get my attention, jumping and down and pointing madly at the tv screen. I wave her off, impatiently.
The tears are falling freely now. "Mrs. Jackson, I don't how or when you got this number, but I can say, you have nothing to be grateful for. You gave us him and all his talents--".
She cut me off gently. "Oh sweetheart, you don't have to say any of this. You don't have to thank me. Thank God for this miracle. I do have one question, however. How did you know?"
Charlie has long since given up on trying to get my attention and is now listening attentively to my conversation. She's obviously confused. "Mrs. Jackson, I can honestly say, I don't know. I just knew."
I could hear a lot of noise the background. I could the chanting outside. All of the music playing. The screaming fans. She must have been at the hospital.
I was on the phone with Katherine Jackson. I had saved Michael Jackson. Life was complete. I smiled, deciding to speak once again. "I know this may come off as...prying, but, how is he?"
"He's doing well." She replied. "He has a couple of broken ribs from all of the procedures, but he's resting now. He's alive. Doctors say if you hadn't called any sooner, he would have died." Her voice breaks off in anguished pain.
I wanted to ask about that murderous doctor, but I knew I would be giving away too much once more. "Will you please say hello to him for me when he wakes?"
"Excuse my rudeness. I don't even know your name!"
"Jesse. Jesse James."
"Jesse James, how would you like to thank my son in person, yourself?"
Have you ever fangirled so hard, you almost passed out? That's what I did in that moment. I literally dropped the phone and jumped around like a little girl on the inside. Charlie, staring in open-mouthed shock, slowly shook her head at me and picked up the phone.
"Um. Hi. No, this is her sister. Yes. She's unavailable at the moment. Information? Yes. I'll write it down."
I was on cloud nine. I could fly. Literally. You know how they say Peter Pan had no unhappy thoughts? Michael Jackson was my only happy thought. And he lifted me into the air. I was finally free. Or, at least I felt free. There would be no more sad days on my end. I was from a different time, but I wasn't going back. If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up. At long last, I was finally happy again. Finally.
I stood up on the couch and started jumping around. I ran into my room, turned on my radio and started blasting Thriller. I did my best impersonation of a zombie walk and started walking around the house.
"Now is the tiiiime, " I crowed. "For you and I to cuddle close together.Yeeaaah.(Had to hit that note) All through the niiiight, I'll save you from the terror on the screen. I'll make you see."