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Another Part Of Me - Part 2

"Are you... Michael Jackson?" I asked. "Yes," he replied with hesitation. "Uh... Hi!" I exclaimed. "Hi," he answered. "I am, uh, oh, er, ah, a huge, uh, er..." "Fan?" Michael finished for me. "Yeah!" I said. "It's great to meet you! I'm Britney, but people call me Brit," I said. "I think you already know I'm Michael!" he laughed. "So did you go to the concert? I think I seen you there helping fainting girls!" "Yeah... Tell me about it - those girls... agk! I missed the concert!" I said. Michael was looking at me strangely. I changed the subject. "I... uh, so what do youlike to do?" I asked. "Oh, er... you know. Stuff," said Michael. I was panicking now because I thought he didn't like me. I KNEW he didn't like me.

We'd been walking as we talked and we were now outside of my house (I lived on a busy road two blocks from the concert). "Would you like to... come in?" I asked. "No... no," said Michael straightaway. In a last half-hearted attemp to impress, I wrote down a note for him on a peice of paper with my number and a message:
Missing you already.
Brit x
I handed him the card. "Thanks," he mumbled hurriedly. Now I had the hint. "Better go in," I explained,upset. I ran up the path and messed with the house keys. I couldn't see what I was doing because my eyes were welling up with tears. I desperately tried to unlock the door and I dropped the keys. I was well aware Michael was watching. "Brianna wait!" Michael cried.

I turned around at him in astonishment, not noticing that my eyes were streaming. "You... forgotten my name..." I whispered bitterly. I finally managed to unlock the door and I stomped in and slammed the door so hard the keys flew out of the door. They were still on the outside of the house. I was so embarrassed knowing Michael would probably still be standing there!

I opened the door. Michael was by the door. "Did you forget these, uh..." "Britney," I hissed, snatched them out of his hand and slammed the door. I locked the door and went upstairs. My room was surrounded with Michael Jackson posters.

"Oh, I made a total fool of myself! If only he would get to know me!" I cried to myself. I cried.

An hour later, I was unaware how long I had been crying. "What's this all about?" asked Mum, bursting into my room. I was 23, but I was still living with her. "How was the concert?" she asked. "Fine." "How did it really go?" "Awful," I yelled and clung onto her. "What happened?" asked Mum. "Where do I start?" I yelled. "Tell me," she answered. "I JUST NEED TO BE ALONE NOW, MUM!" I screamed and she answered, "Okay," and went out of the room.

ONE WEEK LATER

Michael still hadn't phoned.

I was still in a depressive fit, mooching around the house and not going out with my friends. Mum sensed something was wrong, but each time she asked I just told her it was none of her business. She was just trying to help, I know, but I just didn't feel like talking. Every day I would wake up at 7am and sit in the house all day waiting for Michael to call.

"He's never going to call!" I whispered to myself. I had been sitting at the kitchen table for 4 hours, waiting, doing nothing. I burst into tears for the millionth time that week. Just as I got up to get tissues, I heard the phone ring.

It isn't him, I thought, trying not to get my hopes up. Going to the phone was the first time that week - no, EVER - I had ran so fast.

"Hello?" I asked hopefully. "Hi, it's Michael Jackson..." started the caller. "Sorry, wrong number," I said and hung up the phone. I was sure that he didn't mean to call me, after all that time. I was convinced I had made such a bad impression he hated my guts.

The phone rang again after a few seconds. "Hi, it's me again..." Michael started. "No, it's just Britney, I don't know if you remember, a fan girl who seen you after the concert you did last week. Nobody important," I replied. "I wanted to phone you! I've been so busy the past week, doing the rest of the tours," he explained. "Oh. Look, do you have a problem?" I asked, desperate to know what I had done wrong. "No, do you?" he asked. "What the heck is it? I won't be treated like cr*p Michael!" I shouted. "You were so off with me when we first started talking! I was trying to be nice but you kept forgetting my name and talking at me like sh*t! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?" "Well I was under pressure with the concert! And stuff..." started Michael. "Oh, making excuses, now? Let's face it, Michael, just tell me you don't wanna talk any more and we can lose contact," I told him. "I don't wanna cut off, but..." "But what?" I screamed. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO ME, MICHAEL? DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO ME?" "What?" he asked sounding alarmed. "You DESTROYED me! I knew you HATED me and I have loved you so much for the past THIRTEEN YEARS! How d'you think I COPED? I was depressed, it caused ARGUMENTS WITH MY MUM, I got up at 7 every morning waiting for your call... I LOST 2 POUNDS IN WEIGHT BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANNA EAT! WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH!" I screamed. "Wha..." "I'M NOT FINISHED!" I Yelled. "I HAVE PAID OVER A THOUSAND POUNDS ON POSTERS, CONCERTS, BOOKS, EVEN DOLLS, MICHAEL! Anything Michael Jackson and I had to HAVE IT!" there was a moment of silence on the line. "Are you finished?" whispered Michael. "OH I'M FINISHED!" I yelled. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to make you mad but, I had just done the show and I..." he sighed. "I've been too busy to call you, but..." Michael paused. "What?" I asked. "Oh, forget it!" said Michael, sounding embarassed. "Do you forgive me?" I was going to say no, but I couldn't help but say "Yes.". I loved him. Who knows? It could all have been a misunderstanding... "So do you want to come to my house?" I asked. "Yes, if you don't mind me coming," he said. "Wait - aren't you halfway across the world?" I asked. "No, I just had to go to Turkey then I came home," he explained. "I live quite near, actually..." "Where?" I asked. "That's for me to know and you to find out... quite easily," he answered mysteriously. "Where? Where?" "I'll be there in ten minutes," said Michael and hung up.

Ten minutes later exactly, I heard what I thought was a car pull up outside. It was a limousine, I saw as I looked out of the window. Michael knocked on the door a minute later. I looked at myself in the mirror in the hall. "Ohmygod I look a mess..." I whispered to myself. I opened the door nonetheless.

Michael looked surprised. "What?" I said, reading his expression. "You look tired... and red-eyed..." said Michael. "And skinny." "Did you HEAR what I said on the phone?" I asked. "Come in before you p*ss me off."

We ate something and talked for a while.
"Michael?" I asked. "Yes?" said Michael. "What were you gonna say on the phone?" I asked. "Uh... I, uh... I've been too busy to call you but I've been thinking about you all week..." He blushed.
I went to kiss him... But Michael Pushed Me Away.

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