November 1st 1996, 12:55pm.

We're in Mumbai India, before we head off to Thailand, then New Zealand then Australia; I memorized what Michael told me. It's exciting because I was once the girl who's never been on a plane in her whole entire life, until I came here and met Michael, and now I've been to precisely thirteen different countries in almost three months.

We just landed, and now we're looking at a huge sign that reads: NAMASTE MICHAEL, NAMASTE of the airports authority of India. We walk inside the building and there are hundreds upon hundreds of fans behind a gate to separate the reporters from them, and I can honestly say that they are loud as always, unfortunately for me since I woke up from the plane with a headache.

They're now rapping some sort of traditional red, Indian piece of clothing thing over Michael's red military jacket, and continuously handing him flowers and whatnot, while I'm just crouched underneath him, holding onto his waist for dear life. Lola seems to be taking this as fine as Michael is, although I don't see how.

Once we get outside, I don't exactly know what I'm looking at, but Michael seems to be enjoying it, clapping along. There are men with orange turbans wrapped around their heads, banging drums, doing some kind of traditional dancing. I rub my temples in agony, praying that we get to a hotel sometime soon.

Before you know it, we're crowded around the limo and I'm yet again being shoved left from right, attempting to get in safely with Michael's hands on my shoulders. I groan once we're inside, rubbing my pounding head.

"What's wrong Carmella, you have a headache?" Michael asks.

"You can say that again."

"We're going to a hotel now, don't worry."

I sigh in relief as I fling my head back on the seat.

Once we're at a hotel, I look around and it's pretty simple to all the other ones we've been in. I'm not complaining as I find this one just as beautiful with the Indian orange and red furniture everywhere, it's just that it's a lot smaller so I'm not exactly sure Lola, Michael and me can fit in...two beds.

"Michael, there are only two beds," Lola says pointing to them and pouts.

"Yeah I know, Carmella and I are sleeping in one, and Lola you can take the other one because I know you probably want one to yourself."

"Oh, uh...y-yeah, it's no problem," Lola says awkwardly.

"Great, so it's settled. If Carmella doesn't mind, of course."

"No its fine, thanks." I collapse onto the bed of my choice, closest to the window. "Do you have anything for a headache?"

"Sure, do you take aspirin?" Michael asks.

"Uh..."

"I'm kidding, I have something that's not so strong for you."

♔

I took a nap after taking a headache reliever three hours ago, and it feels much better. I get up feeling happy and relaxed, but hear a lot of rattling coming from the bathroom. I get up to see what all the noise is, and I look in from the bathroom door that's cracked open a little bit. I see Michael digging through drawers, cabinets, and his suitcase for something.

"Where is it?" he says to himself. He then walks out of the bathroom before I have time to back away. I look up at him holding a stuffed teddy bear that I brought with me as a comfortable thing to carry and lay on. I cuddle closer to it, now feeling a little freaked out by him. He sees the expression on my face and I see his eyes water, and before you know it, he starts crying, sitting up and sliding against a wall.

"Michael? What's wrong?" I ask, sitting down next to him.

"I-I...they're not here," is all he says, continuing to cry.

"What's not here?"

"You're just a child, you won't get it."

I frown at his words, you're just a child. "But...but maybe I can."

"I can't find my painkillers."

I gasp a little.

"Yeah..." He sighs, shamefully.

"No, I mean my dad was addicted to painkillers. That's why he divorced my mom and left, saying he couldn't raise a family like that."

"Really?"

I nod.

"Oh God, I'm going to be a terrible father." He buries his head in his hands.

I remove them. "No you're not, you're going to be a great daddy. Michael..."

"Don't say anything, sweetheart," he whispers. "I can't," he blows air from out of his mouth, "keep doing this."

"I'm sorry," I say and reach for his hand to hold it. I rub my small thumb over his knuckles, wishing that there was more that I could do.

"You don't have to do anything," Michael says as if he read my mind. "Just stay here with me for a while, please."

"Of course I will." I move in closer to him and he cuddles me. I can feel his chin on my head, his arms wrapped around my shoulders as I'm still cuddling my bear, my knees propped up sitting in between his legs, and he places a kiss on my forehead.

If I knew more about drugs and how I can help Michael with it, I would. But there's only so little I can do. I feel my eyes stinging with protruding tears about to fall, only this time I don't let them. I can't help but feel so useless. I also can't believe that I still haven't lived through one sunny day in 1996. And I feel that I won't see one until I fulfil a job of being some sort of guardian angel, because right now, that's all I can do, for Michael especially.

♔

That night as Michael and I are ready to go to sleep, I jump on the bed, waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth. A minute later, Michael comes out wearing his pyjamas and gets in the bed covers. I slide in next to him, me on the right side near the window, him on the left. A moment later Lola comes out and gets into her bed that's on the other side of the room, shutting off the light with a, "Goodnight, guys."

I turn and face Michael who I can barely see. "Why do you love kids so much?" I whisper to him.

"Why not?"

"No really why?"

"Because when I look into a child's eyes, I see a pure innocence and it reminds me to be humble, to be sweet and to be really good. I see God in the face of children, I really do." I can sense him smiling.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. They fill my heart with bliss, honestly. I don't what you've been reading in the papers about..."

"No, I didn't believe any of that stuff," I say truthfully, knowing what he was referring to.

"Yeah, t-thank you."

There was silence for a moment until Michael says, "But I totally forgive them for all of it, you have to."

I decided to just throw out there, "I love how your heart is really...big."

"And I love how your heart is really big too."

"You know, if you love only those who love you, what reward is there for that?" I state.

"That's right, that's really true actually. You're really smart, Carmelon." I feel him tap my nose.

I missed how he called me that.

"Well, I heard somewhere that Jesus said that and I guess it's true."

Also one of the reasons I chose to forgive Lola for her slipup.

"Hey, I forgot to ask you, what's your nationality?" Michael asks.

"I'm half Italian from my dad's side, and half French from my mom's side."

"That's cool."

It's then I remember that I can't see my mom, nor my dad even, and I feel sad again. "Thanks."

"Sometimes I think people forget that I'm African American." Michael sighs.

"I haven't forgotten."

He chuckles. "Well I'm glad."

I then let out a big yawn. "Tired?" Michael asks.

"Yeah, and of whispering so much."

"Come on, I think we both need some sleep now."

"Okay. Goodnight Michael."

"Goodnight Carmelon, I love you."

"I love you more."

"Stealing my line I see." He giggles.

"Yep, night."

"Night."

And sooner than I expected, I was out like alight.