For Michael. 

*

 

The poet Charles Butowski once said, "Nobody can save you but yourself—and you're worth saving. It's a war not easily won, but if anything is worth winning—this is it."

At least once in your lifetime, saving yourself will be the most beneficial of opportunities. Every now and again, the events that shape our present self may phase us, the most fervid of souls, rendering us from functioning until we wish to cease in existence. I guess that's what happens when you see galaxies in their eyes then wake up to black airspace; as cold and as lifeless as my then shattered insides. 

As humans, we resist twists and turns; everything that is designed to help us take responsibility into our own hands and see that we really are in charge of our own fates and sometimes, we're not. I didn't believe in fate. At such times, I liked to rely on music. Enmeshing myself in chords, adagios and allegros did at least, move me forward physically.

It was a reality that I had to overcome. And gradually but slowly, my thoughts had began to create the harmonic dissonance that my hands did when they glided through black and white keys on a piano. Like notes in a minor piece, we were a song that ached amidst the clashes of our strive for euphony in our lives. Like these notes, we overcame surprises and obstacles until everyone learned to laugh with us and enjoy our piece for what it was. Our burning yearn to help others, our similar aspirations and our uncertain plans for our oh so uncertain future - if we only learn to give instead of yearn for the things we do not need, do I think we learn a major lesson as humanity. So I did just that. So did he. They all knew. And this is our story. 

 

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Krystal

I stepped out of my cab and double-checked the writing inside of the crumpled piece of paper that was stuffed inside of my right palm. 

100 N Carol Wood Drive. Well, I was definitely in the right place. 

Knowing there was no backing out now, I take in a big breath of air to relieve my slight anxiety. Okay, I got this.

I press the white caller-button before I am able to do anything else but stay for what I signed up for. My heart was pounding and I don't think I can take another second's delay before I change my mind. 

This is it. Breathe, just breathe and you'll be fine. You've done so many other things already. This should be nothing. 

A voice on the other end answers. "May I help you?" she asks, too politely. But what if everyone is really formal and I stick out like a sore thumb? 

"Uh– um– Hello, yes. This is Krystal. I've applied to work as one of the housekeepers at this address." I quickly unfolded the now half-dead looking piece of paper, just in case I had gotten the address all wrong (and secretly hoping I did so I had an excuse to turn back). I hope she didn't notice how shaky my voice was. I should have been more prepared. I knew I should have. She is going to think I have something to hide.

"What's your security number?" 

"188972." 

In seconds, I hear a buzz and the huge entrance to the front yard slowly opens from it's centre, revealing the house; the beautiful and huge chateau-style manor I will be working at. 

I remind myself for the hundredth time that I got this and force a smile in hope to boost my confidence even a little. Would I be seeing him at the door? Maybe he'd call on me after I get settled in. . .

For someone who has spent a good few years on stage, I am ridiculously and utterly shy. When I was five, my mother had to come to kindergarten with me just so I wouldn't cry and try to make a run for the door. America was a scary place and now I was back on my own. Born in the picturesque city of San Francisco which was traversed by it's well-known cable cars, a vacation to our home country of South Korea led to me getting scouted to audition for a chance to debut as a singer and the face of a new girl group: F(x). They must have liked me, because I instantly got the call back and spent a great deal of my time there with my parents and older sister who moved to be closer to the company that signed me. I was ecstatic. It was a dream come true. And after a few years of pursuing this dream, life beckoned me to try other things. I decided to open an online store so I could sell clothes based on a few designs I drew. As it turned out, that wasn't the smartest of moves in the book, and I got a call from the company I had a contract under, telling me that I was fired with the approval of my group-members for promoting a business which wasn't agreed to in the initial contract my parents had signed for me. I didn't think too much of it at the time, but a few months into being asked to leave, my thoughts gradually shifted from that of optimism to a state of depression and denial when I realised that I had been back-stabbed, heard about the numerous false rumours that the media spread about me, and completely stripped of the opportunities that fulfilled my first ambition as an entertainer. Luckily, my parents gave in to my persuasion about letting me go back to  America as a time-out to clear my mind of everything that went wrong, which leads me to today; working for one of the most prestigious celebrities in the world, Michael Jackson. I landed a temporary job as a maid - hoping to make my own money until my career as a singer and fashion designer kick-starts again in Seoul. The pay was also surprisingly good and if dealt with cautiously, could help me invest in my brand-name for my designs. 

By the time I look up, I've already made it to the front door the wooden doors to the house's entrance. Phew, that was quicker than I imagined.

"Good day. I'm the head-maid, Ms Dubois. Let me show you around. Follow me," says a plump, older woman that appears friendly enough. I smile and follow her, my beating heart gradually steadying. I couldn't help but appreciate everything; the architecture, the art on the walls, the huge space to walk in. It was both exceptionally grand but humble, not anywhere as near as intimidating as I thought it would be. I was quickly shown the kitchen, a few of the rooms and given a brief explanation about what I should and shouldn't do. I pretended I wasn't half in a daze and tried to listen to her while my eyes darted around the quiet hallway, secretly on the look out for something whimsical. 

"There are to be no profanities, no vandalism or physical aggression or prepare to face the consequences. Ah, this room here is where my team usually work but kitchen duties are also in our job criteria."

I look towards her when she gestures towards a room she hadn't shown me yet. 

"And this is where you'll be sleeping."

It seemed rather generous to belong to a maid. It was spacious and neat, kind of like an empty zen space but with a bed and beige velvet curtains, a white-wooden closet too. Then again, this did belong to Michael Jackson. I wasn't completely taken aback by his  generosity to us staff. There was a reason why I admired him so much as a child and that hadn't changed ever since. I turn to face Ms Dubois so I could thank her. 

"I'll do my best."

"Oh and one more thing honey, take this."

"Thanks." Unfolding the white material revealed it as an apron. 

"I'll get to work right away!" I beamed, enthusiastically. It didn't seem so bad, for a temporary job. 

6:08pm

My back ached as I lay on my bed, completely exhausted. For someone that had never cleaned so much in her life, the job description for what I had signed up for sounded like a walk in the park. 

"Ugh, and it's only eight past six."

I knew this would take some getting used to, but I also wanted to go home. To slip into a hot bath after eating some of my mother's home cooking sounded like a distant heaven. I was already beginning to miss my friends. I wonder if they feel the same way. Had I stayed in South Korea, I would probably be meeting Sulli at a coffee shop right now, talking about how we wish our lives could change, surprise us, or bring about some other twist of events that had never happened. I missed her, a lot.

The last room I was assigned to check on seemed the most exciting. The dispersed Disney toys on the window sill and the odd ballet slipper and music box on the floor hinted to me exactly where I was. I was probably standing in the children's nursery.

"I'm soooo bored!" yelled the voice of a little girl. It was Paris. 

"Me too, I'm all out of ideas on what to play. The more I play with my Xbox, the more boring it seems." 

"Guys, how many times do you have to put on Disney movies for me? I want to play with you!" 

It was them! I was going to meet the King of Pop's children.

I straightened my clothes and placed my hands behind my back in an effort to stay in role and to look even a bit more courteous instead of tired. It dawned on me that I had never seen their faces properly on Television. What did they look like? Would they like me? 

"Oh! You're probably wondering who I am," I broke the silence that daunted upon all of us when they suddenly noticed me, the outsider, standing in their room. "I'm one of the new housekeepers. You can call me Krystal. You might hear me be called as Soojung, but that's just the Korean translation of my name. Nothing special." The words fell right out of my mouth. 

"Coooool. New housekeeper."

"Boring," Prince laughed. 

"Prince, don't be rude. Daddy said it isn't nice to tell strangers things like that to their face." 

"But housekeepers are boring. . .They don't know how to play. All they do is cleaning stuffs," remarked the youngest. 

"Sorry about that. That's Prince, I'm Paris, and this is Blanket." 

"Hey, I'm not boring," I stated, crossing my arms as-matter-of-factly. I suddenly get an idea which was more of a spare of the moment instinct I had when it came to being around children. 

"I've been cleaning for almost half the day. What do you guys want to play?"

The next thing I know, I was shoving the mattresses off of the beds using the duvets to stand upright against one another so we could sit inside of them. I could hear the children squeal with delight and dive into the heap I had created in the centre of the floor, after all of them unanimously agreed to to play fort. 

I dive in with them, overcome with enough excitement to make me forget I was still supposed to be on duty. "I'm going to get you!" I yell, chasing Blanket around the room until he throws a pillow at me and I laugh, taking my revenge by tickling his older two siblings in my grasp. I pretended to threaten them by saying, "surrender yourself or I'll never let you two go.". They quickly comply and I release them into playing tag again. 

A raspy, loud voice began yelling down our ears soon after. It was Grace Rwaramba, the childrens' nanny. 

"Paris! Prince!" she sounded mortified. 

We exchanged a few confused glances and I begin to gather a few of the scattered toys, resuming my position. 

"You're not suppose to play with a maid when you have a nanny. You are not to socialise with any of the working staff except for me. Didn't I tell you that before, guys? Trust only your inner circle. Didn't I tell you about stranger danger? Well, didn't I?"

I couldn't stand back. They were just playing. What was her problem? 

"But they were having fun," I retort though I probably shouldn't have. 

"Yeah!" 

"Excuse me—" she looks for a name tag. I realise that I left mine in my room. 

"Krystal."

 "Krystal. So you're tardy too. Just where is your tag? Every new member of staff should wear one for the first week while working here. I would think you would know your place too. Especially since you chose to work here of all places."

"I'm really sorry, I left it in my room and—"

"Please don't talk back to me," she scolds me like she was some sort of parent to me. "Are you trying to make my life more difficult? Do you enjoy seeing me fret over seeing the children disappear? If you want to make a formal complaint about me then don't kid yourself. Don't make me report this to the boss–" 

I can't begin to explain how stupid she just sounded. Just before I could cut in, a tall-ish figure with black hair and aviators fast-paces towards us. He takes off his glasses to take a better look at the children and then at me. 

"Stop! What is this racket? Grace, what is going on? Are the children okay?"

I could smell his perfume from feet away; a strong, classy musk that seemed to compliment his choice of clothing. I had to reach up to rub my eyes. It was really Michael Jackson. My knees went slightly weak as I felt myself seize-up with exhilaration. This was it. His voice was deeper than I presumed. His face, quite chiseled and dominant in structure. I really couldn't help but admire it. He was a good looking man. Grace snaps me out of my trance.

"A maid was playing with your children," she tries to whisper but I hear, nonetheless. "Just think what the press would say to that if they caught this on camera," she snorts. "Michael, if you ask me, this is way out of order. This girl is a stranger. A complete stranger." 

"That still doesn't give you an excuse to be rude to a colleague, Grace. Can you please just leave for a moment? Leave the children."

I look at her leave hurriedly and annoyed, then look up, feeling a large hand grip hold of my small shoulder. My breathing hitched.

"Are you ok?" He asks. I get a real glimpse of him for the first time in person. He is so much more taller than I am. 

"I'm fine, no worries." I stifle a grin and hope he wouldn't notice that Grace's voice had shaken me up a bit. Michael rubs his chin, showing how unamused he was. 

"I'm glad, but if she ever scolds you like that again, don't hesitate to tell me, okay K-Krystal?" 

He knew I was coming. "That's my name, right." I could see Michael's three children peer sweetly inside the room from the corridor. I wanted to beckon them to come inside but didnt know if I should. Of all the ways I pictured meeting Michael, this was never how I imagined how it would be like. 

"You seem familiar."

I giggle uneasily. I didn't want him knowing I was Krystal Jung. I wanted to stay away from the hype of being known for what I am on stage, at least for now. At least until I'm ready to tell anyone new.

Michael

I take off my sunglasses, giving them a little rub with the corner of my shirt and then slid them onto my collar. I then proceed to examine her from top to bottom, admiring her strong composure. The shy but focused look on her face had peaked my interest. Had she worked as a celebrity nanny before? I continued walking around her in a small circle, before realising that my thoughts were telling me that she reminded me of the way Grace Kelly carried herself with elegance while she possessed the same solemn eyes as Audrey Hepburn. 

"Anyway, what were you playing and why wasn't I invited? Paris, Prince, Blanket, come in here."

I hear my children pad inside and watch Krystal's face also light up with relief. I didn't have anything to really do for the remainder of the day so I might as well see my children laugh and be happy. They smile so rarely lately other than the times when I'm with them.

But Krystal stands dead in her tracks. 

"C'mon, what are you waiting for?"

"I-I think I better head off. I need to make help Ms Dubois with the food, and–"

"But it's 7:30," I cross my arms, standing feet a part in front of the door to the room. "Your shift should be over." 

"Right, I knew that," she remarks, smiling with her eyes. I had to admit how strange I found it that someone was finally even more shy than I was. 

Adamant to not let her go, I tug at her wrist and lead her into a fort she had already made with my children. She didn't decline; joining in with their games once more.

She looks prettier when she's laughing with them. 

***

I leaned back for two minutes to catch my breath after Prince chased me around the room a dozen times, observing how rare it was to see someone her age play like she was still twelve.

"Krystal," I nodded.