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At Last (Part Eighteen)
Hi! Wanna dedicate this to mjsite peeps, MJ, and those over in Japan. Enjoy! ---------------------------------------------------------------- I decided to stay and watch the interview quietly as it was going on. As Michael talked to Oprah in the interview, Liz and I were near them, just listening to what was going on, but we weren't shown on camera. While this was going on, Ms. Carter and Mikey were at the bumper cars this time, as little Natalie was in her crib, sleeping in my arms, as I gently kissed her forehead, while smiling at her. Liz and I held her back and forth. Liz would hold her when my arms were tired. She loved the children. She was the godmother to both of them and she treated them as her own. I loved her for that. As the interview went on, Oprah's questions grew deeper and more controversial. She asked questions that were very difficult for Michael, such as his father's demanding and abusive ways, his plastic surgery and the way his skin color changed over the years. And I just thought back in my head. People all over the world wondered what was wrong with his appearance when he was first shown in that state. Some people were upset, some were confused and curious, some were just in shock, and some just didn't know what to think at all. I was one of those people who were concerned. When I first laid my eyes on him, back in '87, I had those same concerns, but as I got to know him and as I fell deeply in love with him, I looked past the skin color and everything. I was in love with Michael, period. I wasn't in love with his look. I was in love with the person. Over a period of time, it didn't matter to me what he looked like. He was still the love of my life, regardless. He could've been polka-dot, I wouldn't care. I would still love him. I wouldn't care if he was 4'2, 50 pounds, and had a long beard and crooked teeth. I would still be in love with him, because I fell in love with HIM. I did not fall in love with the way his nose was shaped, the way his hair was, or his skin color. He was the same loving person he was before the changes started. "Why does it matter?" I thought in my head. "He's still the same person," I elaborated in my head. The skin issue was very hard for him. People just don't understand that this can ruin your self-esteem. They would say that he "wasn't black" anymore, and I would hate that. A skin disorder doesn't change your race. I remember times when he would cry on my shoulder whenever he was having a hard time. I remember the night when we were getting ready to go to bed and he was in the mirror. He discovered a little milk-colored blotch on his upper neck that was lighter than the rest of his skin was. This was back in early '91; I remember it specifically. As a response to what he spotted on his neck, he asked this question, "Why? Why me?" It broke my heart into pieces. He didn't know why God chose this for him. It hurt that people were critizing him and it was not his fault. He didn't ask to have this; it was not his decision to make about this disorder. I got up and wrapped my arms around the back of him, kissing the back of his neck, whispering, "I'm sorry, baby," while my head rested on his shoulder...I looked back at this interview and Michael looked as if he was about to cry. He looked over at me and gave me this sad, gloomy look as I gave him a sympathetic look, mouthing, "It'll be okay." I was enjoying watching the interview, until Oprah asked him about his love life. Oprah: Do you go out? Do you date? Michael gave her an honest look and answered: Michael: Yes. In my mind, I was like, "What?!" Oprah: Who do you date? Michael: Well, right now, it's Brooke Shields. Me: *in my head* WHAT?! BROOKE SHIELDS?!?! My heart literally shattered like a glass window when an opera singer holds a high, soprano note. I was devastated. I literally felt sick to my stomach and I was kinda mad but hey! I was the one who decided to break up. I was ready to go, so I alerted Mikey, who came back from the bumper cars. Me: (whispering) C'mon, Mikey. Let's go home. Mikey: (whispering back) But I wanna stay with Daddy. Can I spend the night? Me: (whispers) Alright. But I'm gonna go home and get your clothes. Then I'll bring them back here. I'll leave Nat here too, so your daddy can spend time with her, too. Mikey: Thanks, Mommy. Me: You're welcome, sugar. (kisses his cheek) Silently, I started to sneak out, but Liz approached me. Liz: (whispers) Where are you going, dear? Me: (whispers back) I'm going to get Mikey's clothes, since he's spending the night. I'll be right back but after I bring the clothes, I'm leaving. Liz: Alright, love. Me: Bye. (walks away) Again, I snuck out, and I walked to my car with a lump growing in my throat, the feeling you get when you're about to cry, and my eyes were fighting back tears. While I was driving back to my house on the abandoned dark dirt road, my eyes filled with so many tears, I couldn't see straight, because my eyes were blurry. For my safety, I pulled over to a ditch, and feeling angry, upset, and regrettful for what I've done to Michael, I balled my fists and banged against the steering wheel, and then I put my head on the steering wheel, sobbing. TBC... What did you think?
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