"Susan? I'm leaving now. I'll be back in like, two hours ok?" Michael called me from downstairs and I quickly jump up from the bed, running down the staircase in my pajama pants, right into his arms.

"You'll be fine" I muffled into his chest and closed my eyes as I felt his large hand at the back of my head, pulling me closer to him.

"I'm not so sure about that baby" He sighed and rubbed my back. "You know...there's not always a happy ending to our hopes and dreams. I've had my fair share of wonderful gifts from god. I don't know if I can count on getting this one as well." He said sadly and looked down.

"Babe...if it's one person that deserves this gift, it's you." I touched his arm and he looked at me. "I can't imagine there being anything wrong with you, I mean-"

"Susan, there is already a lot wrong with me. You could say I'm used to it. Or, I'm not surprised. My life is a mess" He whispered the last words and closed his eyes.

"I'm here Michael, you've got me. I'm always right here for you and we can get through everything together ok?" I said and bit my lip, trying to think of something to tell him. He was so aggravated today, anxious to find out if it was true that he was infertile. I couldn't imagine it at all, Michael seemed like the one man on earth that needed to be a father.

"Yah" He swallowed and tried to smile. "Well...gotta go" He shrugged his shoulders and stroked over my hair. "When I'm back, we'll know. "

I closed the heavy, wooden doors behind him as he left for his ride. I took a deep breath and went over to the living room, slumping down on the couch. I felt sick to my stomach, just thinking about what was happening. How upset would Michael be if the results were that he couldn't have kids?

He had such a strong emotional connection to kids that every time we would talk about our future children he had this gleam on his face and huge smile on his lips. He loved the idea of being a father. He was absolutely in love with it.

But now, already 7 months had gone by and I still wasn't pregnant. I had read about it and it was still in the normal time frame, but since my doctor had told me I was supposed to get pregnant easily, it wasn't all that normal anymore.

I put my hand on my forehead because I began feeling hot, I was so nervous because the only thing I could do was wait here until Michael would come back. And it would either be a happy, cheerful return or... I couldn't even think about it.

I tried to distract myself by flipping through a magazine, which didn't help much. It was full of baby clothes and Michael had circled the ones he liked best. "I love this one" he had written with red pen next to a jumpsuit that looked like a noble prince. Next to it was the princess version, with a comment from Michael: "If she's my princess, this one's for her." And a heart was drawn around the pink jumpsuit.

I sighed and closed the magazine, putting it back on the stack. I got up and walked over to the piano, where Michael kept a collection of framed photographs all set up on the top of the piano. There were photos of him and famous singers like Diana Ross, Cher, Céline Dion. Other ones showed him as a little kid, his mother, his sister Janet. Some were even photos of his fans, or with children he had met. And then there was our wedding photo.

I took it in my hands and looked at it with a smile on my face. We were standing on the grass under the gazebo; I was wearing my huge white dress, looking up and him. He had his hands on my waist and looked down at me, with that teeth-showing, wide grin. I loved that photo. I could still feel how happy we both were at that moment, every time I looked at it.

I put the photo back and looked at his collection. Nearly all the photos had something to do with his career and the people he had met through it. There was nearly no evidence of the Michael Jackson I knew, the homey, goofy Michael. The Michael who wanted to start a family. A family, that's what he needed.

I felt the muscles in my stomach tighten, I felt sick to my stomach again. I needed to get upstairs and take something, I couldn't endure this anxiety creeping up in me. I ran upstairs, which wasn't the best idea, because I started to feel even more nauseous. I took a pill to calm down my stomach and lay in bed, trying to relax until he was back.

I stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours.

And then the doorbell rang. One time.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, slowly getting up. I had a headache. I walked down the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing and went to open the door.

And there he stood. Eyes blood shot red. And we instantly both started sobbing.

He wrapped his arms around me and I held his body that was shaking from his cries. I had never seen him like this before. It made me scared. I felt so helpless, holding my husband in my arms, knowing there was nothing I could do. Knowing that his biggest wish – had been destroyed.

"Susan no" He whined and held me tighter. "I told you" He sobbed and I could feel his heart racing in his chest. "I'm a mess, I am a complete mess." He brought out between sobs.

"Shhhh Michael" I said and stroked his back gently and steadily. "Come, let's go inside" I said and broke our hug, putting my hands on his face, but he pulled them away.

"Susan there's nothing I can do there's....god!" He cried and covered his eyes with the sleeve of his blue shirt. He stepped inside and walked upstairs. I closed the door behind me and followed him.

"Susan no. There's nothing we can do. Please..." He said as he saw me. He went inside our bedroom and shut the door behind him. A few seconds later I heard him slump down on the bed and his crying increased.

I stood halfway on the stairs and couldn't move. I covered my face with my hands whispering "Oh god oh god..." repeatedly, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened. Our future was forever changed. Our plans. Our dreams of a family. Vanished.

I took a deep breath and walked up the last couple of steps, now feeling even sicker than before. I knocked on the door, but Michael didn't answer so I slowly opened it a bit. He lay there on his stomach with a pillow pressed over his head.

"Michael?" I asked under tears, sniffing.

"What?" He let out, sounding angry.

"Oh..." I let out surprised. I had never heard him angry before. "I...I...nothing" I swallowed and just stood there.

"I'm a damn beast I....GOD I HATE MYSELF" Michael cursed into the pillow and his body jolted from another cry.

"Michael don't say that" I gasped lightly and put my hand over my mouth. I was shaking a little, not able to do anything out of shock.

"Just...look at me. I'm broken! I've been broken by HER, my face is DISGUSTING, my skin is a MESS not even my organs work I....what is WRONG WITH ME" He cried out and pushed his face into the pillow.

"Hey, stop it Michael" I said and took up my courage to sit down on the bed next to him.

"None of that is true" I said firmly and touched his back slowly, checking his reaction. He didn't react at all.

"Yes it is true" He stated.

"No it's not" I said.

"Yes"

"Michael..."I sighted.

"Can you please leave me alone now?" He said and moved a bit away from me.

"Wait, what did the doctor say?" I asked.

"What he said? He said I'm a lost case!" Michael cried out. "No chance for me to get a child of my own. He...he said he has connections sperm donors – how great is that?!" Michael cried out. "It's not what I want. I want to be a father. I...I want to look into my child's and... gosh why would I even want to see a baby related to me. I'm disgusting I...I should do that to a chil-"

"STOP IT NOW" I cried out and shook his arm. Tears rolled down my face. I always knew Michael was insecure about himself, about his looks but this was the worst state I had even seen him in.

"You are perfectly fine Michael. Stop saying such horrible things about yourself. If you can't conceive our babies, so be it. We are not going to let this destroy our lives. There are so many possibilities for us to be happy. With children, you know that."

"I want my own children" Michael said firmly and I saw he was clenching his fists. I took a deep breath, I felt dizzy from all of it.

"Michael...we're gonna figure this out. I...I'm sorry, I have to lay down." I sighted. "Can I lay here?"

"I want to be alone" Michael said in a monotone voice.

"Oh..ok" I said and slowly walked out of the room, to a guest room. I slumped down on the bed and put my hand on my pounding forehead. Hot tears were beginning to dry on my cheeks and I rubbed them off. My throat felt tight from all the crying, my head was heavy. I drowsed off into a nap, the medication I had taken earlier had made me extremely sleepy.

****

"Hey...hey, Susan" I heard a faint voice and I opened my sticky eyes. My vision was blurry, but I could see Michael's face above me. I blinked until I could see clearly again. His hair was messy and he had taken off all his makeup.

"Are you alright?" He asked and held my arms.

"I...I didn't feel well." I mumbled and slowly sat up.

"Here, I brought you some orange juice" He handed me a glass and I gulped down the liquid.

"Thanks" I said and looked at him. "How long was I asleep for?"

"I...I guess like 3 hours" Michael said and pulled down the sleeves of his shirt. I caught a glimpse of red skin underneath and quickly held his wrists.

"Hey, what have you got there?" I asked.

"Nothing I..." Michael said but I pushed up his sleeve.

"Michael" I gasped and put my hand over the bruise. "What....did you do this to yourself?" I asked and I could feel tears coming up in my eyes.

"I...I was so angry Susan I..." Michael pulled his arm away.

"How did you do that? Michael please don't" I wrapped my arms around him.

"I just....hit against the table really hard, I didn't even feel anything I was so...angry. But let me take care of you now, you're sick. Do you want me to take you to our bedroom?" He said. I nodded and he held my hand as we walked to our bedroom. He pushed some pillows against the headboard and made me lay down, then covered me with the blanket.

"I'm gonna get you something to eat ok?" He said.

"Thank you" I whispered and covered my hot face with my hands. I heard Michael's slow footsteps down the stairs and my eyes wandered over the desk in our room. Everything on top was a mess, he had probably pushed it all around in anger. Suddenly I felt sick to my stomach and quickly got up, running over to the bathroom. I just stood there, holding my face over the sink, but nothing happened. I slowly looked up and in the mirror, looking at my reflection. I was pale, my eyes were puffy and lips were dry.

"You have to get through this" I whispered to my mirror-self. "For him. You have to be strong for him."

A couple of seconds I just stared at myself.

And then I puked into the sink.