Chapter 30

The Next Day
Somewhere Downtown
San Diego, California

“Are you nervous at all?” Michael questioned shyly, patting at my hand.
Michael, Rusty, and I were all crammed into the back of Michael’s black SUV, en route to St. Matthew’s Children’s Hospital.
“No, not really.” I offered him a wide smile. “Are you?”
Michael returned my grin with one of his own. “Uh-uh!”
Rusty was on his own planet, chatting on his Blackberry.
Michael was dressed beautifully in a black blazer that featured two sterling silver buckles on the right shoulder and a royal blue band around the right bicep. Under the jacket, he wore a matching royal shirt, a diamond studded pin in the shape of an “M” at his throat. A pair of black pants with buckles down the legs and simple black boots completed the look.
His hair, in loose, springy curls, tumbled around his face and about his shoulders.
Dark glasses hid his eyes.
“Mike.” Rusty called, finally putting the doohickey down.
“I just got off the phone with Sister Mary Agnes--she says that they’re all ready for you at the hospital. We should be there in a few minutes.” He informed us The toys are bagged up and ready to be passed out. Candy too.
“How’s the security look? I don’t want a repeat of Aiken’s.” Michael cautioned.
I nodded, I didn’t feel like having Rusty carry me, anywhere.
“It’s perfect Michael. A few cop cars will be cruising around the hospital about every fifteen minutes and there’s two cops at every entrance and exit. It’s tight. Really tight.” Rusty smiled, smoothing the front of the navy suit he wore.
“And is Sam there?” Michael patting the tip of his nose.
“Yes, Michael, your videographer is there. Sister Mary Agnes says he got there about an hour ago.” Rusty nodded.
“That’s the man with the gold tooth, right?” I giggled, hugging Michael’s arm.
“That’s right, you met him a while back.” He smiled.
“Mike, what’s your story about Brynn?” Rusty questioned, glancing at me. “The Taryll thing?”
“Nope, just say she’s a friend.” Michael replied coolly, reaching down and taking a sip from the bottle of water that was at his feet.
“Do I look okay?” I wondered, wanting Michael’s approval. I wore the pink wrap dress he’d selected, paired with my cross necklace and a pair of heels that matched my dress. A pair of small diamond hoops and a diamond ring--on my right hand--rounded out my outfit.
My hair was smooth and was tucked back behind one ear.
I held my little red camera in my hands, ready to snap photos as keepsakes for the children.
(And of course, I was wearing make up!)
“You look wonderful. Stunning.” Michael assured me and pecked my forehead gently.
“There’s St. Matthew’s!” Rusty proclaimed, pointing.
Looking ahead, past him and through the windshield, I saw a small building coming over the horizon.
St. Matthew’s Children’s Hospital was comprised of a somewhat large square shaped, grey two story bricked building.
I saw that the front entrance was accented by two columns made of glass cubes. A policeman was leaning against each cube column.
As we pulled into the parking lot and up the door, a person came rushing out the door.
A nun.
As a policeman opened the door to the SUV and helped, Michael, Rusty and me out, the nun darted at Michael.
“Good Morning Mr. Jackson! Hello! I’m Sister Mary Agnes!” She exclaimed grabbing onto Michael’s hand and giving it a firm shake.
“It is such a pleasure to meet you!”
Sister Mary Agnes appeared to be in his early to mid-sixties. She was a pretty, rotund woman with a jolly red face, and dancing eyes that were more grey than green, behind a pair of wide rimmed, tortoise shell glasses.
She wore a simple brown habit. A wooden crucifix hung from around her neck.
“Hello Sister Mary Agnes. It’s wonderful to meet you too.” Michael’s voice slipped into its shy falsetto.
“This is my assistant, Rusty Ross--” Michael pointed at Rusty.
“It’s so nice to finally meet the voice I’ve spoken to for so long!” Sister Mary Agnes doled out another firm handshake.
“And this is my friend, Brynn McAllister. She wanted to come and help out with the toys and everything.” Michael patted my shoulder.
“Hello Sister.” I smiled as she shook my hand, hard.
I hid my pain with another smile.
“Please, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Ross, Miss McAllister, please come in and follow me!” Sister Mary Agnes swung around and led us into the hospital.
The cops were grinning like Cheshire cats at Michael. I knew they were excited to see a supernova go by.
I was surprised. I expected St. Matthew’s to be a desolate place, that would probably reek of the scent of antiseptic.
Instead, the entire place was painted a pleasing shade of pale blue and in the center of the entrance walk way was a large porcelain statue of Jesus with open arms. As we passed by it, I read the little plaque placed at Christ’s feet:
“No Prayer Goes Unheard, No Cry Goes Unanswered.”
And the place smelled like sugar cookies.
“Mr. Jackson. Our first floor is primarily for children in intensive care--we can hold up to fifteen children in the ICU, but thank the Good Lord, the ICU is empty at the present time. There are not children that sick.” Sister Mary Agnes grinned.
“That’s a blessing.” Michael agreed with a nod.
“Our general hospital area is on the second floor. It’s a big open space, so there’ll be plenty of room to go around and pass out toys and things of the like. We are so very glad that you want to help us.” Sister Mary Agnes stared at Michael with eyes flooding over with thankfulness.
“Think nothing of it. I live for this sort of thing. To help the children.” Michael gripped my hand loosely.
“Oh, and we absolutely adore the banner that your children did Mr. Jackson! It’s so beautiful! We hung it up right away!” The nun led us to an already summoned elevator.
“Oh I’m glad you like it. They wanted to help.” Michael smiled happily, as we piled onto the elevator and started to make our ascent.
“Bless their hearts!” Sister Mary Agnes clutched a hand to her ample bosom, and sighed at the Jackson Trio’s thoughtfulness.
The elevator came to a rest on the top floor and the doors popped open.
A familiar figure awaited us.
Sam the videographer.
“Hello Michael!” He called as we stepped off, focusing his large camera on us.
“Hi Sam.” Michael laughed as I waved.
“Mr. Jackson, all the toys are outside of the main ward as you can see.” Sister Mary Agnes pointed out as we rounded a corner.
“Everyone is inside, nobody knows that you’re here--they’ll be so surprised!”
Next to a set of closed blue metal doors and under a portrait of late Pope John Paul II was a huge cart loaded down with toys and goody bags.
“Gosh there’s so much stuff!” I gasped.
Had Toys ’R’ Us emptied out their entire inventory for Michael?
“I’ll push the cart.” Rusty volunteered getting behind it.
“Mr. Jackson was very generous.” Sister Mary Agnes boasted.
“Extremely.” Rusty huffed and I stomped on his foot.
I had seen the check that paid for the toys. The signature on the bottom of it read as “Michael Jackson” not “Russell Ross”.
“Please wait here, while I announce you!” Sister Mary Agnes pleaded, making her way into the room.
As the door started to close, I cracked it so I could peek in. Sam just managed to get his lens in.
I could hear Michael’s song, Black or White, playing faintly.
These were really some little hardcore fans.
I glanced around the ward. Lining the walls were children in hospital beds, most appearing happy at the sight of Sister Mary Agnes. Most of them appeared to have just broken limbs; a lot of them had their arms and/or legs in slings.
Next to each kid was at least one parent.
I saw that the Jackson Trio’s was hanging in a corner.
A little girl, about six years old, in the bed closest to the door, with her arm in a hot pink cast, waved her good hand at me.
I smiled at her and waved back.
“Everyone! Everyone! Please listen to me! I have an announcement. Turn that radio off!” Sister Mary Agnes was waving her hands around like a madwoman.
“As many of you know, last week, I reached out to the organization, Heal The World, in regards to seeing if I could get singer Michael Jackson to come and visit us--”
“Did you get him? I want to meet Michael Jackson!” A child stated from somewhere.
“This is gonna make their century.” I whispered, giddy as Michael took his place right outside the door, just out of view.
He just chuckled. I knew he was excited.
“This is too cute!” Sam commented.
“Well…” Sister Mary Agnes made her way to the door. “No.”
As disappointed chatter sprang up, Sister Mary Agnes flung the doors open.
“I was wrong!” She exclaimed in mock disbelief, as the disappointed chatter became cheers of glee and nearly drowned her out.
“Please welcome The King of Pop, Michael Jackson!”
Laughing and waving Michael entered the room.
“Oh my God! It’s Michael Jackson! Mommy it’s Michael! Oh wow!”
The cheers grew louder, and as Sam and I followed him in, Rusty bringing up the rear with toys, the screams grew yet louder.
I could see mothers overcome with joy, some hugging their children, and their husbands, all applauding.
Three nurses--two female, one male--stood in the far corner clapping.
“Settle down! Settle down! I have more to say!” Sister Mary Agnes tried to stop the sheer hysteria that was ensuing.
As the room started to quiet down, a little black girl, no older than twelve, with a bandage wrapped around her head, called out,
“I love you Michael!”
Automatically, Michael replied, “I love you more!” and more screams rocked the place.
“Children!” Sister Mary Agnes called sternly and order fell back into place. I wondered if she was like that nuns that had taught me in Catholic schools. The ones that talked softly and carried a big ruler.
Every child and parent were staring at Michael.
“Now Mr. Jackson was kind enough to take time out of his busy schedule to come and see you, and he has brought gifts!”
Applause.
“Mr. Jackson and his helpers, Rusty and Brynn, will be making their way around greeting each of you and hanging out gifts. Make sure you tell Mr. Jackson ‘thank you.’”
“Yes Sister Mary Agnes!” The children chorused. I was sure they couldn’t believe their luck.
Sister Mary Agnes, strolled over to me. “I’ll take the pictures for you, so you can pass out toys.” She offered, taking the camera from me.
“Okay, thank you.” I smiled, and walked over to the cart, getting a bag for two boys and a girl. (The bags were so heavy, that was all I could carry.)
I glanced over at Michael. He was across the room, giving a G.I. Joe action figure to a little boy and shaking hands with the boy’s seemingly single father.
They both seemed ecstatic.
I made my way across to the other side of the room, to the little girl I had first waved at.
“Hello Sweetheart. I’m Brynn, what’s your name?” I asked handing her the “girl’s” gift bag.
“This is Janelle.” The woman standing next to the little girl smiled. “I’m Alexia, Janelle’s mother. I just want to tell you that’s it’s so touching and means so much to both of us for Michael to be here. It really does!” The woman’s blue eyes were filled with tears of joy.
“It’s no problem. You can go tell that to Michael.” I grinned, her happy demeanor rubbing off on me.
“Oh, I can’t talk to Michael Jackson! I mean he’s Michael Jackson!” Alexia blushed, twirling her long dishwater blonde ponytail.
“You can talk to him, he’s totally normal.” I grinned.
“Look Mommy! It’s a Barbie and a Cabbage Patch doll! And candy! And a picture wow!” Janelle screamed gleefully as she ripped the Cabbage Patch Kids doll box open and hugged the toy inside.
“That’s nice.” Alexia was halfway across the room to Michael who was posing for a photo with the little girl who had told Michael she loved him.
As Janelle played with the doll, I learned that she had broken her forearm when she tumbled out of a bunk bed at a relative’s house.
“Hey thanks Miss Brynn!” Janelle exclaimed as I gave her a warm hug.
“You’re welcome Sweetie.” I grinned waving at the little girl in the next bed and searching for a little boy to give a “boy’s” bag to.
People were absolutely buzzing over Michael like bees over an orchid.
I spotted a young black boy sitting in his bed. Next to him was a boom box that was playing another MJ tune, Heartbreaker.
As I neared him, I saw that both his legs were in casts.
He was a cute little thing with a bald head, a huge eyes that were focused on Michael.
Next to him was a little white boy with a heavily freckled face and a shock of red hair. His arm was in a blue sling.
Their parents were a part of the crowd following Michael around with camera phones and telling him how they played Thriller oh so much as teens.
“Hi Dears.” I smiled slipping between their beds and handing a bag to each one.
The little redhead turned and stared at me, his pale green eyes widening at the sight of me.
“Oh man! Jonas! That lady is talking to us!” He gasped staring at the bald boy and back at me.
“I know Skylar! I know!” The bald boy, apparently Jonas replied.
“Hi. I’m Brynn.” I held my hand out to the bald child.
He just barely grabbed onto it, he seemed so shocked that I was talking to him.
“Hi! I’m Jonas Alexander Cartwright! I’m eleven!” He exclaimed, voice cracking.
“Nice to meet you Jonas Alexander Cartwright.” I shook his hand.
“And hello.” I held my hand out to the redhead, Skylar.
“Hi! I’m Skylar Dustin Brown. I’m ten! Gosh you’re pretty!” He blurted, and his face instantly matched his hair.
“Thank you!” I giggled ruffling his hair. “You’re cute too.”
“She said I was cute! Oh!” Skylar was bouncing he was so happy.
“Am I cute too?” Jonas stared up at me with begging eyes.
“Of course.” I patted his head.
Jonas laughed bashfully.
“Wow! Is that really, really Michael Jackson? That’s not a look alike?” Jonas questioned, rummaging through his bag and gazing dreamily at the autographed photo.
“Yes, that’s really, really Michael Jackson.” I winked at him.
“Brynn, does he really have that big house with an amusement park and a zoo and a movie theatre?” Skylar was almost tumbling out his bed as he leaned asking the question.
“Yes. That’s Neverland.” I nodded.
“He really lives there? That’s his house? He really bought it?” Jonas wondered, his eyes glimmering.
“Yes, he lives there. He really bought it.” I grinned and tossed my hair.
“And he had money left over?” Skylar blurted, reddening again.
These boys were too sweet.
“Yeah, he had money left over, he’s rich! Right!” Jonas reasoned.
“Right.” I smiled, taking a seat at his side.
“You’ve been to his house?” Skylar shrieked.
“Yep, plenty of times.”
“Are you Michael Jackson’s girlfriend?” Jonas asked, leaning towards me.
“Nope, just a friend.” I smiled, glad to play something that wasn’t the ’Taryll card’.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” Jonas grinned broadly. Nope this kid wasn’t pulling any punches.
“Nah, me! He snores when he sleeps!” Skylar accused.
“Do not Carrot head!” Jonas stuck his tongue out at his friend.
“I think I’m a little too old for you boys, sorry.” I gave them a sorrowful smile.
“Well, will you sign my cast? I wanna remember meeting you. I’ve never seen a lady as pretty as you, right Sky?” Jonas asked holding up a pen.
“That’s right!” Skylar agreed.
“Sure.” I took the pen and jotted on his left leg cast,
“To Jonas, All my love, Brynn McAllister.”
“Too cool!” Jonas exclaimed.
“How’d you manage to break both legs anyway?” I snickered, handing the delighted boy his pen back.
I assumed he’d had a mishap like falling out of a tree, something normal that happened to most little boys.
I stopped when I saw Jonas’ face start to droop. Next to him, Skylar was holding his face in his hands.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t offended the children.
What Jonas told me next, struck me like an icicle through the heart.
“Um…” Jonas trailed off. “My dad ran over me with the car.”
Hugging Jonas and not really thinking, I said,
“I’m sure your father didn’t mean to accidentally hit you with the car.”
“Uh, yeah he did. He’s in jail ‘cause he hit me.” Jonas replied in my ear, squeezing me gently.
“What?” I drew back and stared at the boy.
This darling little boy’s father had hit him with a car, on purpose?
Tears of anger, and horror began springing to my eyes.
“Oh my God!” Truly mortified, and not wanting the boys to see me bawling, I turned to flee out the door.
“Brynn?” I heard Michael call as I ran from the room, sobbing.
I found the fire exit and stood in the stairwell, crying.
“Brynn? Brynn!” It was a moment before I realized there were a set of hands gently rubbing my shoulders.
I looked up to see Michael staring at me, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
Behind him, hanging in the doorway of the stairwell was Sister Mary Agnes, wringing her hands nervously.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Michael demanded, softly, wiping at my tears.
“Oh Michael! That little boy! That poor, poor, little boy!” I gasped burying my face into his chest, heaving.
“The little boy I spoke to, Jonas, he’s got two broken legs and he says his daddy is the one that broke them!” I gasped, as Michael placed his hand on the back of my head.
“Oh no!” Michael whispered. To Sister Mary Agnes he asked,
“Is she right? Does a little boy named Jonas have two broken legs because his father hurt him?”
“I’m afraid so Mr. Jackson. His father hit him with their car about a month and a half ago.” Sister Mary Agnes hung her head.
“Jonas has been in here a lot. His father was very abusive. He’s been in and out of here since he was about three. Busted lips, blackened eyes, broken bones…his father is in jail now.” She explained. “He hit Jonas with his car”
“His father hit him with a car?” Michael shrieked. “How does someone do that? How can someone be so cold and callous and evil as to hit a little boy with a car?”
Sister Mary Agnes just stared down at her feet.
She couldn’t answer.
“I want to meet Jonas right now. Right now.” Michael demanded as I came back down to earth and finally straightened myself out.
Shoulder’s square, and head up and taut, Michael started out of the room, the nun and me running behind him.
“What is he up to?” Sister Mary Agnes whispered to me as he made his way back into the ward.
“I don’ know!” I replied, swiping at my face, hoping I looked presentable.
Michael was sitting on Jonas’ bed, shaking hands with elated youngster.
Skylar was crying he was so wrapped up.
Skylar’s mother and father, a couple with hair as brilliant as their sons’ stood snapping photos.
As I stood watching Jonas converse with his idol apparent, a hand tapped my shoulder.
I turned to face a woman.
She appeared to be in her mid thirties with her reddish brown dyed hair gathered into a high ponytail. She was of the same pecan brown as Jonas’ and was giving me a sad smile.
“Hello, I’m Tequana Cartwright. I’m Jonas’ mother.” She nodded at me.
“You’re Jonas’ mother? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. But your little boy--his father really did those awful things to him?” I blubbered.
Tequana nodded. “As sad as it is, it is true. Jonas’ father wasn’t a good man. But he is going to be away for the rest of his life for hitting my Baby.”
“He’s so nice. I don’t’ know why anyone would want to hurt him.” I glanced back and saw that Michael was showing a group of children--Jonas included--how to do the Moonwalk. They were cheering blissfully.
“Thank you Brynn. That’s my one and only there. And the little redhead, Skylar, is his best friend. I haven’t seen my son this happy in years.” Tequana grinned. “And now for him to meet Michael Jackson, I’m surprised he isn’t floating around the room on a pink cloud.”
I watched as Michael hugged Jonas once again. Jonas grin wrapped around his head and then some.
“Tequana, your boy is floating on a cloud. Trust me, he is.” I assured her, patting her shoulder.
We smiled at each other.

* * *

That Night

I sat at the island in the kitchen, a mug of warm tea in front of me, untouched.
All I could think about was that darling little boy. I just couldn’t believe how someone could be such an asshole as to try to kill their own child.
Even when I was on the outskirts with my mother and father, I never once thought that they’d do me physical harm. I just couldn’t see how a person can purposefully harm their child and still look at themselves in the mirror.
I wouldn’t have been able to face myself.
“Brynn?”
I looked up to see Michael standing at the other end of the island, in his pajamas and slippers.
“Oh, hi Mike.” I said quietly and stared down into my mug.
“Are you still thinking about Jonas, Honey?” He asked, taking a seat on the stool next to mine.
“Yeah.” I admitted. “I mean it’s so sad. I was looking at Prince as I said goodnight to him earlier tonight, it made me think of Jonas. He and Prince are about the same age. And I just looked at Prince, Michael. Prince is such a happy boy. Never been hit in his life. I’ve never heard you raise your voice at the boy. And Jonas, that little boy has had nothing but pain all his life Michael. It’s just not fair.” I sniffed, and stared into Michael’s concerned face.
“I just feel useless. I want to do something special for him, and his little friend Skylar, the little redhead.” I sighed.
Michael ran a hand through my hair, “Well Bunny, do you think it would be nice maybe if we invited Jonas and Skylar here?” He suggested, putting his forehead against mine.
“What? Really? Michael, for real?” I questioned, not truly believing it.
“Yes. I don’t want you to feel unhappy, and if I could, I’d bring every sick and unhappy child here to forget their troubles, at least for a few hours. I’ll call Sister Mary Agnes in the morning and discuss it.” Michael nodded sucking his bottom lip in.
I loved that gesture.
“Oh I love you! I love you! I love you!” I screamed, wrapping my arms around Michael.
Michael Jackson was improving the world, one…um two, kids at a time.
He was really “Healing the World.”

* * *

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