A Prince's Tale

Chapter Four

June 24th
2:30pm

Conversation ebbs and flows between the two men as he observes in polite silence.

“So, you want to incorporate the two together, Michael?”
“I think it would be cool…kinda like a bam! In your face experience that will leave the crowd going whoa. I wanna hit them hard, TP. Know what I mean?”
“I gotcha, Mike. I feel you. Just wonder how Kenny’s gonna get it all done before…you know…it’s almost time, man.”
“I know, I know…but we can do it. I know we can. If we work fast, it should be no problem. I don’t know…I just get all these ideas all the time and I’ve just gotta…just gotta get them out, know what I mean?”
“I hear ya, brother.”
“Even Prince thinks it will be a great idea, don’t you?”

He starts as if goosed and tries not to blush as the two men eye him with silent encouragement. He feels a dull thrill of pleasure at his father seeking his opinion on certain things, and that feeling of responsibility makes him feel a little more…adult.

“It sounds like a great idea, Dad. Especially the whole…3-D thing.”

God, that sounded lame even to him. How he wishes he’s more technically savvy to the in-and-outs of the music business. However, his supposed ‘lame’ answer seems to please his father greatly, for he gets an approving pat on the head and a warm smile in return.

“You see? If Prince says it’s okay…you know it’s gonna be great.”

His blush darkens at the praise, and even when the two men continue to discuss their plans for rehearsals tonight, his heart feels full and content.

5:10pm

“Can’t we come watch?” Paris pleads with a pout as they watch their father shrug into his jacket in preparation for the trip to the Staples Center. “You promised, Dad.”

“Aww, honey. Let’s make it tomorrow night, okay? Daddy’s got a very busy day today, so hopefully tomorrow won’t be a hassle, hmm?”

He watches his father give his sister a kiss on the cheek…before she nearly chokes the life out of him with a crushing hug. He cannot explain the desperation in that embrace – a gesture that even surprises his father at how clingy his daughter is, but he does not push her away and simply whispers something into her ear, brushes away strands of her long hair from her face and places another kiss on the tip of her nose. “You know Daddy loves you,” comes the barely audible affirmation from him, before he turns to Blanket.

“Give Daddy a bye-bye kiss,” comes the playful urging that’s happily accepted as his little brother runs into the arms of the man who means the world to him. He is lifted and hugged tightly; his long black hair brushed tenderly by those strong, pale hands. “You be good now, okay? And don’t give your big brother and sister any trouble, honey. You know what happens when you misbehave.”
“Yes, Daddy.”

“Will you be a good boy today? Promise you’ll listen to whatever Prince and Paris tell you to do?”

“I promise,” comes Blanket’s muffled reply against his father’s neck.

“That’s my angel. You know Daddy loves you.”

“And I love Daddy more.”

Blanket is eventually released, even though a small hand still tries to reach out for his father’s bigger one. Paris is quick to notice that, and pulls him away gently; knowing how hard it is for Blanket to let his father go at such times.

“Prince.” He is motioned to follow them outside, and sinking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he saunters after his father. The black, shiny SUV waits in the driveway, and some of the security team are already double-checking to make sure everything is okay.

“I wish we could come with you,” he finally confesses quietly, when they’re relatively alone again.

“Tomorrow night,” comes the low promise. “Everything’s going to come together then, and I want you to see how it all looks. I even used some of your ideas.”

His eyes light up in excitement. “Really? Which one?”

A low chuckle escapes the older man’s throat. “I can’t tell you that yet. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“All ready for you, Mike!” comes the bellow from Michael Williams – one of the bodyguards.

His father gives a thumbs up sign of understanding before turning to face his son again. “Now remember…make sure Blanket finishes that book and that he finishes his dinner as well. Kai’s saying something about him only wanting to eat snacks.”

“Will do.”

He receives a light kiss on the head and another pat on the head, but it’s not enough. He shuffles his feet back and forth, now feeling a little embarrassed at having to do this. He really wants to, but this is a guy thing after all. Is he getting too old to get hugs from his father? Would that make him seem less of a man if he flung himself against his dad like he used to when he was a baby? How would such a thing register before the scrutiny of people watching them with interest? And yet, as he watches his father walk away, now talking to Mr. Travis about something regarding floating dead brides, he feels an inexplicable cold chill race down his spine. He cannot explain it even if he tried, and a part of him wants to attribute the sensation to the slight breeze that’s picked up.

His lips part to call out his father’s name…but the door slides closed and he is rewarded with inky black windows that shield him from prying eyes.

I’ll see him tomorrow anyway, he tells himself as he waves after the line of cars now leaving the driveway. And tomorrow…oh tomorrow he’ll finally get to see a sneak peek of all the cool things in store for them.

He just can’t wait.

9.55pm:

A light knock on his bedroom door rouses him from his doze, causing him to sit up with a start as he eyes the clock. Even though he knows he can’t be awake long enough until his father’s return, it still doesn’t stop him from trying to stay up all the same.

Dinner’s long over. Blanket managed to consume more than half of his meal, but created a fuss when Paris tried to force him to finish the rest…which in turn earned a threat of ‘telling Daddy he’s not behaving’ and then Blanket wanting to ruin Paris’s new art project (a decoupage vase), which had both of them running around the place until he had to scream at them to stop acting like a bunch of babies before they break something.

Man, it was hard being the oldest sometimes.

“You awake?” comes the soft question as the door creaks open and Paris sticks her head in.

“I am now.”

She nods and closes the door behind her, dressed in pink pajamas with her hair wrapped in a red scarf. She climbs onto his bed, and without saying a word, he scoots a little to make room for her. In silence, they view a classic episode of the ‘Fresh Prince of BelAir’ on mute, watching Mr. Man in Black himself back when he was way younger and funnier in their opinion.

During the commercial break, he feels her head rest heavily on his shoulder, but he doesn’t push her away. He knows she’s got something to say and he wonders if he really wants to hear it.

“Mr. Murray was setting up things again,” she finally says quietly as Carlton Banks begins his weird ‘Tom Jones Dance’ to the amusement of his cousin.

He captures his lower lip between his teeth, but says nothing. What can he say anyway? This has been happening for the past two weeks now, and even though he’s tried his best to query the doctor about what kind of dosages are being administered to his father, the doctor simply refuses to corporate. Perhaps still not understanding why a boy like him would be so interested in something like that.

“I read up on Lorazepam and Midozalam,” she continues; her gaze still trained on the T.V. “And all the other stuff. They’re all depressants, Prince. They are supposed to bring down your respiratory rate. I didn’t really understand…”

“It’s simple,” he cuts in with a hint of impatience and frustration in his tone. He too has read up on the medication he’s noticed in his father’s room. He’s not a moron. “Dad uses them to try to sleep.”

“But they’re not for sleeping though…”

He shrugs. “What do I know? I’m not a doctor. Maybe Dr. Murray figures they’ll work.”

“…but Dad still looks a bit tired in the mornings when he comes down for breakfast. Even Aunt Kai has asked me what’s going on with him. What good are they doing?”

I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know! His mind screams. He suddenly hates her for asking him all these questions, when he just doesn’t know the answer to them. What does she expect from him? He’s not a walking encyclopedia of information. They are both well aware of their father’s insomnia, and they have seen some of the sleeping pills in his arsenal, but with the heavier stuff like this…

“As long as he’s able to do what he does during the day, then its fine,” he finally says aloud. “So far it’s working, so there should be no problem.”

“…I don’t know, Prince…”

“Let it go, Paris.”

“But…”

“Just let it go, all right? Everything will be fine.”

“What if it isn’t fine?” She sits up and now looks him squarely in the face; and the fear in her eyes makes his heart slam hard in his chest. He hopes to God he’s not revealing the effect it has on him, because he realizes it’s his role to make her feel better; to reassure her that all will be well.

“What happens if…?”

“Why are you talking like this?”

She lowers her lashes and grips her hands tightly before her. She’s trembling. “I…I…I… had a really bad dream last night.”

“So? We all have bad dreams.”

“It was about Dad.” She looks up again with tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t see him anymore, Prince. I…I couldn’t see him…” She covers her face and begins to cry, but he’s confused. What the hell does she mean by that?

I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Stop crying,” he chides softly, even though he’s pulled her into his arms. He pats her back gently. “You’re just overreacting. If you want to call Dad now you can…or at least speak to Uncle Kenny and let him reassure you that Dad’s fine. Do you want us to do that?”

She shakes her head against his chest. “I don’t want to bother them,” comes the low muffled reply. “And besides, Dad will be mad that we’re still awake. Just…forget I said anything, okay?” She pulls away from him and wipes her face with the sleeve of her pajamas top. Once she’s under control, she settles beside him again – and this time they watch, in silence, the antics of Bill Cosby and the Huxtables.

The ‘almost’ perfect family.

__


June 25th
9.43am

“Nooooooooooo this book is too boring!”

“Well, you’ve still gotta finish it,” Paris admonishes absently; her mind half on her brother’s work and the other dealing with ‘New Moon’…which she is reading for the one-millionth time.

“But I wanna play a game…”

“No games until you’re done reading,” he interrupts with a firm look at Blanket. He turns his attention back to the laptop, where he’s researching something about the Aztecs for an assignment. They are in the den, having finished breakfast about an hour ago. The plan is to study/play until it’s time for lunch with their dad before heading out to the Staples Center.

“Often the term "Aztec" refers exclusively to the Mexica people of Tenochtitlan, situated on an island in Lake Texcoco, who referred to themselves as Mexica Tenochca or Colhua-Mexica. Sometimes the term also includes the inhabitants of Tenochtitlan's two principal allied cit -"

He suddenly stops reading and glances toward the door. It’s slightly open, and no one seems to be walking outside of it. The house is relatively quiet…besides the faint sounds of Aunt Kai washing dishes in the kitchen and talking with Nana Grace. He eyes the clock. His father should be awake by now…or rather in the process of being awake. He knows the doctor comes down around ten or ten-thirty to take breakfast up to him.

Too still…

It’s interrupted by Blanket whining aloud again, and this time he turns to watch his siblings, as if seeing them anew. Paris is now pointing towards the book and trying to get the restless soul that was Prince Michael the Second, to focus long enough on the words. She finally manages to wheedle him into sitting on her lap, which he does happily (such a spoiled little brat, isn’t he?) and proceeds to actually listen as she reads to him.

Too still…

The dull roar of a lawnmower kicks up outside reminding him of how beautiful a summer day it is. He rests his chin on his hand, and admires the way the sun’s ray streaks into the room, casting a golden hue on his brother and sister. If he had a camera, this would be the perfect time to take a picture. To simply capture the moment…as his father would say.

“What are you thinking about?”

He jerks back to reality, meeting the piercing green eyes of his sister who had asked the question. They are both watching him curiously now, and in the silence, the oldest exchange an unspoken question; that last night’s conversation still hovered between them despite their best attempt to ignore it ever happened.

“Nothing,” he finally says and turns back to the laptop. “Nothing at all.”


10.55am

He goes into the kitchen to get some water, and is surprised to find that his father’s tray is still there. Untouched. Usually, the doctor would have come down to take it upstairs, but not today apparently. Maybe he forgot? Or maybe Dad’s still sleeping off last night’s rehearsal.

“Odd, isn’t it?” Kai asks when she notices his bemused gaze. “No sign of him all morning.”

He glances up the stairwell that leads to his father’s room. He is sorely tempted to take the tray there himself, but knows he’s not allowed to. Frustration gnaws at his insides like a rabid dog, but he forces himself to smile and shrug nonchalantly.

“Maybe last night was a really long rehearsal and he’s tired. He’ll be down soon.”

At least he tries to convince himself of that.

I couldn’t see Dad anymore.

He walks back to the den, where Blanket is now watching Spongebob Squarepants with obvious enjoyment. It’s always funny to listen to his brother sing the opening credits, especially since he enjoys the rather dumb ditty as well.

“Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob Squarepants!”

Yes, you can count on good ol’ Blanket squealing out the chorus as loud as he can -

“Is Dad up yet?”

He shakes his head at the question from Paris and settles back in his seat to get some work done. He hopes his ‘serious’ mode would deter her from asking anything else, especially since he can feel the weight of her gaze on his back.

Please…don’t say another thing, he pleads. Just…just let it go.

__


12.07pm

Even Blanket seems to sense something is amiss. If one of his favorite shows (it’s a Squarepants marathon on Nickelodeon) can’t keep him distracted then…

“When’s Daddy coming down?” he finally blurts out with a pointed stare at his older brother.

Why are you looking at me like that?! How is this my fault?! What makes you think I know all the answers?!

“When he’s ready. I’m sure he’s awake by now,” he answers instead, trying to smile, even though it fades a little as he notices Paris’s pensive features.

Everything is going to be just fine…right?

“I wanna see Nana,” Blanket announces and rises to his feet to head out the door, but before either he or Paris can stop him…there is a loud banging noise that freezes him in his tracks.

Someone is running down the stairs.

And that someone could only be…

“Prince?!” The door to the den is suddenly thrust open, and Kai dashes in; a frantic look on her visage as she motions to him to follow. “You should come with me. The doctor needs you.”

Grace is hot on her heels, reaching quickly for Blanket, who runs into her arms and hugs her tightly as fear and confusion grips his heart. She motions for Paris, whose eyes are already widening with growing panic, and holds onto her hand in reassurance.

Only he suddenly seems detached from this; his feet and, in fact, his whole body moving on autopilot as he walks into the lobby and comes face-to-face with Dr. Murray.

“Call security,” the man orders. “Have them come upstairs right now.”

“What’s going on?” he asks; his voice sounds like it’s coming from a mile away. He’s not quite panicked yet, but he has a feeling he’s getting there. “What…?”

“Don’t bother asking questions now, Prince! Just get them. Hurry!”

He does as he’s told; his head pounding with random thoughts and jagged images of what could have been…what should have been…what is happening…how it’s happening. He finds Michael Williams and Alberto outside. He can’t remember what he tells them, but they are already running past him and back into the house. He follows with what seems like purposeful strides, his intention to head straight upstairs, but a firm hand stops him. Kai is preventing him from going any further.

“We have to stay here, Prince. We have to -”

“What’s happening to Daddy?!” comes the painful shriek from his sister. He cannot look at her, for if their eyes meet, he knows he’ll lose it. His insides churn with fear, helplessness and anger. He cannot believe he isn’t allowed to see his father especially when the commotion upstairs is nerve-wracking.

I couldn’t see Daddy anymore.

Blanket’s sobs are being soothed by Nana Grace, and it’s the housekeeper – a nice homely woman they’ve only known for a brief period – who motions for them to come together in the den for a prayer.

Prayer? What prayer? What good would that do now? And yet he complies, gripping the clammy hands of Kai and Paris’s trembling ones as he bows his head and struggles to find the right words to string together.

Please…God…I believe in You…I know You’re up there…listening. So please…please…please make my Daddy be all right. Please don’t take him away. Please…I want to see him again…please…

However, it’s the sound of the ambulance sirens that causes Paris to scream again, and he has to squeeze her hand gently as she begins to sob ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy’ over and over and over again until it nearly drives him mad.

He can hear the organized chaos outside the door as paramedics rush up the stairs, walkie-talkies blaring with disembodied voices and orders to stabilize this…or order that…or inject this or do that…

Oh God. How much more of this can he take?

__


12.55pm

“All right everyone,” comes the gruff voice of Michael Williams as he walks into the den, where they’ve been huddled like refugees waiting for rescue. “You all have to leave the house now.”

“Why?” Nana Grace asks with confusion. “Where are we supposed to go?”

“You and the kids come with me…the rest of you…you’ve gotta go home for now.”

“Is everything all right with Mr. Jackson?” Kai asks.

“He’s just gonna go to the hospital, that’s all. The doctors will check him out there.”

“Then I’ll come.”

“No. Just close family members only. Grace…take the kids to the van, all right? We’re heading to UCLA Medical.”

She nods and begins to shepherd them upstairs to get their jackets. However…

“Where’s Daddy?!” Paris queries as she escapes Grace’s clutches and dashes up to the big man. “What happened to him?!”

“Your Daddy’s going to the best hospital in the country, okay?” He pats her head gently. “They’re gonna make him feel all right. Now hurry up and get your jacket so we can go see him. Prince?”

He nods in understanding and jogs up to his room, but not before coming to a stop as he notices the door to his father’s bedroom is wide open…with remnants of what must have been. The bed is unmade (Daddy lay there)…his shoes lie askew next to the chair (I should have arranged that)…documents and sketches flutter to the ground like confetti before settling down (all his wonderful and fun ideas)…and yet a single golden ray of sunlight bathes the room as if trying to erase whatever darkness had occurred earlier.

Daddy…

His stomach muscles cramp tightly, and he suddenly feels lightheaded. He wants to go in there…to see for himself what his father must have experienced in the past few hours, but a gentle push behind forces him in the direction of his room. It’s Mr. Alvarez, who gives him a weak smile before shutting the door quietly. There is apparently nothing more to see.

“Hurry up now, Prince,” he orders softly. There is a look of silent shock in those dark eyes; an expression of not really fully understanding what’s happening, but still trying to make sense of it all at the same time. “The others are waiting.”

In his room, he plans on only picking up his hoodie and leaving, but for some reason, his gaze falls on the last family picture taken just two months ago and a local photographer’s studio. His father had discovered this ‘hidden gem’ and snuck them in one night for the session. Even though it was almost midnight, the atmosphere in that studio had been awesome. With music blasting; his father laughing; them wearing funny royal costumes, but still looking cool all the same.

His father…laughing.

His breath hitches in his throat and he bites down hard on his lip. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He can’t cry. Not now when Paris and Blanket need him to be strong. He can only imagine what it would do to them if he gives in and crumbles. He can’t bear to see that. It would kill him.

“Prince?!” someone calls out to him from downstairs to break his reverie.

“Coming!” he replies, and with one final look into the beaming expression on his father’s face, he lets himself out of the house for the last time.

__


2.20pm

Uncle Jermaine is pacing the corridor with agitation clearly on his features, while Grandma Katherine sits on a bench, flanked by Paris who rests her head on her grandmother’s shoulder while Blanket clings to the other side; his face puffy from the tears he’s been unable to shut off since this whole thing started.

He sits on the opposite side, hands twisting and untwisting as he stares blindly at the floor now scuffed with years of countless shoes and wheels. The antiseptic smell of the hospital has finally permeated his senses, so much so, he can taste it on his tongue. It feels like they’ve been here for an eternity, and the frenzy over his father’s arrival has not waned in the slightest. The few nurses and doctors that walk by always stare at them with curiosity…like fascinating relics to be dissected.

He hates it.

Over and over, he tries to tell himself there was nothing he could do, yet he wonders if he ought to have been more assertive; more demanding in wanting to help his father. What would have happened if he had taken the tray upstairs himself? Would that have made a difference? What if he had told Dr. Murray that he HAD to see his father? What if he had pushed and shoved his way into the room? Would that have made a difference?

“Fans are gathering outside,” Jermaine says with a shake of his head as he paces toward the large window at the other end of the corridor. “Unbelievable…”

Fans.

He wonders why they’re showing up now. He cannot understand the dull rage that fills him at the notion of ‘fans’ lining up now to witness this. What are they hoping for? That his father would suddenly appear before them and perform for them? And then -

“They’re singing now…” Mama Katherine says quietly, a small smile on her aged and wise visage as she pointedly stares at her grandson. Perhaps she can tell he is conflicted, confused and frightened. Perhaps she can sense that he needs a steady hand more than ever at this time; that he’s really not as strong as he lets on to be. “They are singing your father’s songs. Such is the power of his music to them, and you must understand this. Your father has the best fans in the world, Prince and don’t you ever forget it. If they have to sing him to good health, you know they’ll do it.”

Then they had better sing as hard as they can, a small voice inside of him says, just as the door leading into the surgery opens and Dr. Cooper appears. He gives a wan smile to the family, but motions towards Jermaine instead and pulls him aside.

Please…sing a little harder…

He cannot hear everything that’s being said, but somehow he knows.

Please…sing a little louder…

“Don’t tell me that,” comes the painful moan from his uncle as his body literally seems to droop in defeat. “Don’t tell me that, man. Don’t tell me that.”

He knows now that no amount of singing in the world will make much of a difference.

He looks to his grandmother and she ages just a little more before his eyes. Yet she does not cry, and simply hugs her grandchildren close.

And when he glances at the clock on the wall, it now seems forever frozen in time:

2.26PM