Chapter three – It Feels So Good

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"So, let's talk about something other than personal problems, to try and cheer you up a little," I suggest.

Michael walks with his hands tucked deep into his jeans pockets, his button-up shirt sleeves too baggy to fit inside the pocket, therefore hanging out slightly.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?" he asks, his voice still small from earlier.

"Well, I don't know. Do you have a job?"

"Nope. My father worked at the steel mills not far from here, so he provided for me. My father was very caring towards me and my family – always thinking of us before himself."

"My father's the same – or, at least, he was. Before mother and my brother Andre passed away, he used to take us all out every Saturday, and we'd take it in turns to pick where. He never chose though, because he wanted us to be happy," I laugh lightly at the memories. "I used to always pick the most crazy and fun things to do ... and although dad hated it, he still endured it ... for me."

"What kind of places did you used to go to, when you chose?"

"Oh, typical teenager places, you know, the roller-skating discos they used to hold at night. Dad would sit and watch me have the time of my life, and I'd always ask him to join in, but he always said no ... "

"You like roller-skating discos, huh? I used to go to those places with my brothers, you know, when we were in our late teens. We used to take a time out to get a drink, and we'd sit on the benches and look for pretty girls. Oh, the memories of that ... "He smiles faintly at the old times he had.

"Did you ever find any pretty girls?" I ask, trying to take his mind off everything negative.

"Oh, hell yes. One time I met this beautiful girl, when I was ... I don't know, I think nineteen; her name was Eleanor, and she was one of those blonde hair, blue eyes people. First time I saw her, I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven, I really did. I started talking to her, and we eventually became close. We started a small relationship, just with the basic kissing and cuddling, but any time I asked her to come to the roller-skating disco with me after we started dating, she refused. I didn't know why until ... "

"Until what?" I ask.

"Until we were twenty-one, and she wanted me to ... go further with her. She wanted to, you know, make love to me. I wasn't ready, and I told her that. We got into an argument, and she thought I didn't truly love her. Then one sentence changed everything ... "

"What? What was the sentence?"

"I'm sure my other boyfriend will give me what I want ... "

I widen my eyes involuntarily, and stop in my tracks. "She was cheating on you?"

"Yes," he sighs. "And she didn't want to go out in public with me in case her other boyfriend saw her with me."

"But she was your first kiss?"

"Yes ... and my first love, until that day."

"Were you her first kiss?"

"No ... the other boyfriend was," he says sadly.

I feel the need to change the subject, so I continue walking on the pavement, until we come across some bushes, which are covered from top to bottom with beautiful berries, in assorted colours and shapes.

"Oh, we could pick some berries to share later," I offer.

He nods, "Yeah, sure. I love these ones."

"Oh, you've tried them before?" I smile.

I begin to pick the berries off the bush, and I start to collect them in my shirt, folding the bottom of it over to form a pouch-sort thing. Michael's smile slowly grows as he begins to pick them off with me.

"Yes ... mother used to make mixed berry pie for dessert every Sunday. It was like our treat for the end of the week. Man, me and my siblings used to fight like crazy, just to get the biggest piece. It always used to be my brother Jermaine, though. He's—he was the strongest out of me and my siblings," he says, trying to chuckle lightly so he doesn't cry.

"Aw," I smile, "Which colour berry is your favourite?"

"Gee, I don't know ... I think it'd have to be the red ones; they're so sweet, and they melt in your mouth. Heaven."

I laugh quietly, and Michael places a handful of berries into my shirt-pouch. He then pauses for a moment, and removes the black fedora he was previously wearing.

"Here, use this to put the berries in," he says.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Your shirt'll get dirty if you put too many berries in there," he smiles.

I tip the contents of my little pouch into his hat. "Thanks. We'll get a few more, then we can continue walking if you want."

"Sure, I'd like to go to the fields. What you said earlier made me want to try and be carefree, even if it's just for a few minutes. All I want is just a moment, a single moment, where I'm not sad, or upset, or crying. I'm getting there, little by little. Take me there? Please?"

I give him a warm smile, and nod my head, "Of course we can go there, if you want to, Michael."

He looks down, before raising his left arm to scratch the back of his head shyly. He then picks a few more berries – all red ones – and places them in the fedora.

"I think that'll be enough, now," I tell him. "Come on, let's go to the fields."

With a simple nod of his head, I begin to walk, but Michael stops me. I turn around to see his hand outstretched, and I stand confused for a moment.

"I'll carry the hat, if you want," he offers.

I push his hand away. "No, no, it's okay. I'll carry it, don't worry."

He then takes the hat from my grasp, and gives a cheeky smile and a wink. "No, I said I'll carry it."

"But you said only if I wanted. I didn't want you to," I retort playfully.

He giggles childishly, before walking ahead of me, in the general direction of the fields. I shake my head and tut, a small chuckle escaping my lips, and I begin to follow him. Once I've caught up to him, I walk alongside him, trying occasionally to retrieve the hat from his grasp. However, he dodges just in time – every single time.

"Stop trying to get it, 'cause you know I'm going to keep it," he snickers.

"Okay, okay," I give in.

We soon reach the fields, and Michael holds the entrance gate open for me. We walk through the luscious fields, watching the bees and butterflies flutter and fly from flower to flower, before gracefully zooming away into the far distance, back home. I walk a little behind Michael, watching his body language and movements. He's holding the fedora in his right hand, and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his left.

I look up and take note of the bright rays of sunlight beating down on us, and I exhale loudly, almost panting, because of the heat. Michael reaches a peak in the field that rises higher than the majority of the rest of the field – almost like a mini hill – and suddenly sits down, crossing his legs. He places the fedora lightly by his side, before resting both hands on both knees.

I sit by him, and admire the beautiful scenery surrounding me. The blue sky, the flowers in the fields – everything. I fall back onto the grass, lying down, and Michael lies down beside me, and we both look up at the sky, shielding our eyes from the bright light.

"So, I'm curious," he informs me. "What's your full name?"

"My full name?" I repeat. "Oh, sorry. My full name is Citria Espinosa."

"You don't have a middle name?"

"Yes ... I just didn't realise you wanted to know it," I say, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, sorry. If you don't mind me asking, what's your middle name ... or names?"

"My full name is Citria Tiannah Espinosa."

"Oh, your initials are CTE," he calculates.

"Yes ... what's your middle name?" I ask.

"Well, my full name is Michael Joseph Jackson."

"So your initials are MJJ," I say.

"They sure are. My middle name was chosen in honour of my father. His name was Joseph," he says softly.

"That's beautiful," I smile. "And actually, my middle name is from my mother."

"Your mother's name was Tiannah? That's such a pretty name."

"Yeah ... my mother liked exotic names, for sure," I chuckle.

"Yeah, the surname "Espinosa"; are you part Spanish?"

"Well ... my great grandfather was Mexican, and his surname was Espinosa. He had one child – a son, who married and had another son – AKA, my father. The surname hasn't left the family yet," I explain.

"Do you want a child?" Michael suddenly asks.

I exhale through my nose. "Well ... maybe, when the time is right. When I know I'm in love, and they know for sure that they want a child."

"I guess it's the same for me. If I ever meet a girl that won't hurt me, and she wants a child, then I'll be right up for it," he says, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"Were there any children in your family, if you don't mind me asking?" I say softly.

"Yes. My cousins Levonne and Eliza; they were only nine and eleven when they died yesterday ... and then my little sister Janet ... she was barely twenty-one ... "

He gradually trails off, and when I look across at him, I find him lying on his side, looking down at the grass, his hand almost, sort of draped over his nose and mouth. I can see tears in his eyes, threatening to roll downwards onto the grass. I rest my hand on his, and he looks at me forlornly.

"M-My sister Janet was one of a kind," he goes on to explain. "I used to call her Dunk, and we thought so alike. She was probably the sibling I was closest to. She was only eight years younger than me, and we just... we were in sync with one another, you know? I'll miss her so much now she's gone ... "

I give him a sympathetic smile, and watch guiltily as his tears slide slowly down his cheek, hitting the grass beneath.

"Would you like to keep talking about them; get the weight off your chest?" I ask.

He seems doubtful, maybe even uncertain, but he nods his head, "Yes ... I just want to tell you about my family a little, to be honest."

"Then go for it," I encourage him.

"I-I had six brothers, three sisters," he starts. "But only five of my brothers died yesterday. The other one died at birth."

"I'm sorry," I frown.

"The one that died at birth was my brother Marlon's twin. He was called Brandon, but the poor little guy didn't make it. This was before I was even born, by, give or take, a year. I have four other brothers: Jermaine, Randy, Jackie and Tito, and they were all fun to be around, too. Then, there was my sisters: Rebbie, LaToya and Janet. Rebbie, I was quite distant from. We were nice and showed our sibling love, but we didn't talk much. LaToya was the annoying sister, you know, always getting me into trouble. Janet was just the little prankster like me ... "

I let out a soft giggle, at the notion that he could possibly be a prankster. He notices me laughing, and smiles faintly to show a sign of amusement.

"What? You don't think I could be a prankster?" he laughs lightly.

"I just can't really picture it," I reply.

"Well, I'll have you know that one time, I filled LaToya's bed completely with spiders. The girl screamed until her face was red! Ha, I'll never forget that day. I mean, father wasn't very happy with me, and he made me clear the entire bed again, but I secretly think he found it just as funny as I did," he grins.

He looks beautiful when he smiles ... I hate seeing him upset. I need to make him smile more, so that firstly, he can be happy, and secondly, so I can see that smile of his.

"Well, I can't say I've ever done that," I reply with a small laugh. "I never pranked anyone before."

"I guess I'll have to prank you one time," he says with a small wink.

"God help me," I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

This causes him to laugh, and he lifts his head from the grass and stretches his arms out to make himself more comfortable before standing up completely.

"That was a short relax," I point out jokily.

"We can stay out here longer if you like," he replies.

"Do you want to go home?"

"It's up to you. I'm your guest, so I go by your rules, Miss Espinosa."

"Well ... I thought you wanted to be carefree."

"I do, I really do. But I feel like you'll judge my ... carefree-ness."

"Just do what you want to, Michael. You could run up and down these fields all afternoon if you wanted; I won't judge you. If it helps you become carefree, then do it," I assure him.

He looks across the field, then back at me. "I'll just run around a little, get my blood going. It's been a while since I did anything strenuous."

"Go for it. I'll be right here."

He nods, before starting to run into the distance. I sit and watch him, seeing his curls fly backwards in the breeze, and his baggy shirt sleeves flapping against his arms. He gets to a slight hill, and stops running, before tilting his head up and extending his arms out either side of his body, as if soaking up the sun's rays.

He then spins around a couple of times, his eyes tightly closed, before falling to his knees and lying flat on his back, his arms and legs out by his sides – creating a sort-of star shape. I continue to watch him as he basks in the sun, a smile on his face.

If this is what he must do to embrace a carefree moment, then so be it. I shouldn't be one to judge him – especially when I've done the same thing before.

I keep my eyes on him, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes, and his curls fluttering gently in the summer breeze. In this moment, he looks the happiest I've ever seen him, and it makes a nice change. I know that before the night is over, he'll have cried at least once because of how much he misses his family and friends, so I'm making the most of this moment.

He then stands himself up, and runs through the field some more. It's sweet watching him act so happy, careless, free. It hurts me when I see someone upset. He spins around once as he runs, then continues in a curved path on the grass, eventually looking like he's going to return over to me.

As he approaches me, he allows himself to drop down to perform a forward roll, before he stands up again and runs fully back to me.

"Nice little performance there," I chuckle.

"That felt so good!" he says, almost in a squeal.

"I'm glad it did. We can come do that any time you want to," I reply.

"Thank you ... I'd like to do this more often," he admits.

"Then we will. Whenever you want to do it, just tell me, and we'll do it."

"I kind of just want to go back to your place now, I'm kind of tired ... I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," I smile. "We can have lunch, then you can decide what you want to do after."

He nods, and I stand up before we start to walk back home. We walk back past the berry bushes, and through the countryside. We have to walk by his house, so when we get to it, I'm going to distract him so he doesn't notice it.

When we arrive close by, I start my plan.

"So, Michael, you've been living here twenty years?" I ask.

"Yeah, something around that. I can't believe we've never run into one another before!" he replies.

"Well, there's some things that I bet you've never seen in this place, that were probably right in your front yard – not literally, I just mean close by."

"Oh, really? Like what?" he challenges.

"Well," we start to walk by the house, so I point in the opposite direction, at a large tree, "You know the story behind that tree?"

"No," he says, "I didn't know it had a story."

"Let me tell you," I say.

I watch as we slowly pass by Michael's old house, and feel glad that he hasn't noticed it.

"Well, in the year ... 1858, one-hundred-and-twenty-nine years ago, this man called ... uh, Albert Pendington lived in this town. He was the bravest man the village had ever known, because he saved the lives of thousands of people in the war. After he died in 1867, the townspeople were so saddened by it, that they planted a tree in his honour, because he had a strong love of nature – especially trees." We walk fully past the house, "And it's still here to this day."

"That's really cute," Michael smirks.

"Cute?"

"Yeah; it's cute that you just made up an entire story to distract me from the fact we were walking by my house," he chuckles.

"And how would you know I made the story up, huh?" I ask, feeling a little embarrassed.

"It has something to do with the fact that my father planted that tree about eight years ago," he laughs.

"Oh, that's the ... second story. Unless I'm ... thinking of another tree?" I hesitate.

He snickers and shakes his head. "It's sweet that you tried to distract me, though. Thank you."

"Okay, okay, you win," I smile. "You got me."

He grins cheekily, and we continue the walk back home.

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That was chapter three! Are you liking this story so far? Hope you're enjoying it!