He Saved Me
SS by Brandy

If I asked you, "Has anyone ever saved your life?"…What would be your answer? If I commented that fate is one of the most important and constant fixtures in life and angels do exist in our own hearts and minds, would you believe me? I wouldn't believe me.

Until the day I saw him.

"Hi, my name is Britney Spears. Of course you probably already know that." I told him cheerfully coming into the small but homey room.

"I figured as much. I'm Justin Timberlake."

"Nice to meet you Justin. I can only be here for a few minutes, my aunt is actually in this ward and I'm visiting her today as well." I sat down in a nearby chair.

"Breast?" He questioned. I smoothed the fabric of my yellow blouse.

"No, ovarian." He coughed and caught a glimpse of the bag sitting beside me.

"What's that?" He pointed at the bulging item. I reached into the cloth bag propped against my leg.

"Just some things that I thought you might like. So here's an authentic Britney Spears stuffed teddy bear for you…" I handed him the white animal and he held it to his waist gingerly.

"…Let's see, a Britney watch-you know those ones that play the video on the screen…" I dropped the watch back down in the bag and picked up another item.

"…Here's a Britney Slave 4 U doll." I looked up at him amused yet apologetic. "Honestly, if I had known you were a 21 year old guy I would have brought something a little more, uh…manly and--"

"Perhaps a Playboy magazine?" He tilted his head, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. I instantly felt my cheeks turn a rouge color and he laughed at my antics.

"Didn't think I could have a sense of humor did you?" He beckoned me closer to him and I sat on the edge of the bed as he whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin.

"The doctors, they tell you laughter is the best medicine. As if being humorous is going to automatically discourage the cancer or something." I pulled back from him and watched as a grin formed on his face.

"But then I think, what else have I got?" I bit my lip.

"I know this must be hard for you, but just keep thinking positive thoughts and I'm sure that everything will work out and--"

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Has this really become so routine and mechanical for you?" He cleared his throat and spoke softly. "I'm not looking for pity or false emotions."

"That's not-I do this all the time." I said.

"Because you're obligated or because you actually want to talk to young people with terminal diseases?"

"I'm here because I want to be. It's comforting to not have to be 'on' every single second. If one sick child can say her dream came true meeting me, then it gives validity to what I do and it makes me feel good." He massaged his neck.  

"May I ask you a personal question?" I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and sat alert and poised, ready for an interrogation.

"Go for it." He ventured forward.

"Are you happy?" My demeanor suddenly changed from defense mode to just plain confused. I thought for awhile, contemplating a media savvy answer that I had learned to live with giving for the past four years of my life.

"I could be." There was an uncomfortable silence as he stared at me intently and it was at that moment I felt as if he could see the inner depths of my soul. That he could see the hurt and pain I was accustomed to hiding behind the smoke and mirrors of the industry. For a moment, he could see me. I shrugged and tried to brush off the uneasiness I was feeling.

"What about you…are you happy?" I watched as he turned to his side to retrieve a framed photograph from the bedside table. He briefly looked at the picture and showed it to me.

"That's a picture of me at my house in Memphis taken around a year ago. Everyone used to tell me I was so photogenic…my friends would always say I had this aura surrounding me, something that just drew people in."

"It's the hair." I remarked. He seemed surprised at my outburst.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose." My fingertips grazed the photo of the vibrant young man sitting outside on the porch, a smile from ear to ear adorning his face.

"I would spend hours making sure every curl was in place before I went out. Call it narcissism, but my hair is what separated me from everyone else. It was different and I liked it." He raised his hand up to touch his now shaved head. "Two days after that picture was taken I found out I was sick. Started chemo soon after and my one defining quality was gone, just like that." He snapped his fingers for effect. "Funny thing, I still wasn't like everyone else." 

I returned the photo to its place as Justin wistfully remembered his past. He fiddled with the hospital sheets absently.

"To answer your question…I'm content." Before I noticed what was happening, wet drops began to caress my face, as if hugging my cheeks for comfort. Through my tears I recognized a look of concern on Justin's face.

"Britney what's wrong?" I wiped my face with one hand and waved the other in front of me.

"You have to forgive me, I'm just a very emotional person and I can't imagine the strength one has to have to deal with all of this at such a young age, you just seem so…so…" I tried to find the right words.

"Well adjusted." He completed my sentence as I sniffled quietly.

"But don't you get scared of…" I barely spoke above a whisper. "Dying?" Again he stared at me as if looking at all of my flaws and weaknesses.

"I am going to die." He said confidently. "So is the President, my all-time favorite basketball player Michael Jordan, the homeless guy living under the freeway. Even you."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." He said softly. "It's like we are all floating down this river to an unknown. Maybe a waterfall. And we are all at different places on the river. I could be closer to the waterfall than you." He raised his eyebrows. "Or you could be closer than me." I swallowed hard.

"The point is, we don't know. When I got sick I came to terms with the fact that I might go to sleep one night and not wake up in the morning. It's just something that you have to deal with and move on. I didn't get dealt a bad hand…it's my life. Just like yours is one of glamour, celebrities, the Hollywood lifestyle…" I rolled my eyes at his description.

"…The paparazzi, the criticism, the constant scrutiny. Let's face it, my life as The Britney Spears isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Well ya know, neither is having cancer." He countered playfully. He then changed the subject.

"What is it like out there?" He turned his head toward the small window that overlooked the freshly cut grass of Hermann Park. "I don't get out all that often as you can see."

I could definitely see. There was a stark difference from the man in the picture I had held to the man sitting before me now. His normally tanned skin was now pale and circles surrounded his eyes and I was sure he had lost an ample amount of weight since his treatments began. The hospital gown sagged on him abnormally, not like the Abercrombie shirt that hugged his well-defined muscles just a year ago. But underneath the weariness of his physical appearance was still that vibrant man that understood and accepted so much more than I could ever dream.

"Out there?" I touched the window softly. "It's beautiful, it really is. I mean granted it has its share of problems…pollution and violence…but it's breathing and moving and seeing and living. It's life. No matter how screwed up." I contemplated more. "We don't have enough appreciation for it." He didn't say anything, just continued his affair with the outside world so I guess my answer was good enough for him. He then spoke up, startling me.

"Do you believe there's a real reason why you're a pop star and I'm a cancer patient?"

"Maybe" I answered.

"Maybe it's fate." He stated, to no one in particular.

I glanced at my watch and turned to face Justin.

"I should be on my way now, my aunt she's really looking forward to seeing me and visiting hours should be up soon." I said quietly.

"It's okay. My regular round of medicine calls anyway." I nodded and placed the bag I brought in with me at the foot of the bed.

"Again, I'm sorry that I wasn't prepared with gifts that would be umm…beneficial to you. Forgive me?"

"I might consider it if I was to get a kiss from you as my last wish."

"Britney Spears isn't allowed to give kisses to hospital patients." I said jokingly, winking at him.

"That may be true. But I don't want a display of affection from Britney Spears. I want a kiss from Brit, the Southern Belle who is confident and carefree, who knows what she wants and strives to achieve it. I get the feeling that somewhere along the way of defining life you might have lost her." I looked at him curiously. 

"You are quite the charmer, Mr. Timberlake." I smiled at him. He shrugged sheepishly.

"What can I say? I try."

I made my way to the bed and leaned forward. I hesitated for a second and then slowly brought my mouth to his, a sweet tender peck on the lips that held more feeling than one could possible imagine. I watched him, as his eyes still remained closed from our intimate encounter. As I pulled away he abruptly grasped my hand in a firm yet delicate touch. He opened his eyes and now I was drawn to the sincerity and truth that was held inside.

"Take care."

I would have said the same thing back to him but I knew it was not needed. He unleashed his grip of my fingers and I reluctantly left the warmth that his hand provided.

I walked out that door realizing that there was a possibility I would never know if Justin Timberlake lived or died. And I was okay with that. 

Content, if you will.

Whatever the future held for Justin and for me, we could revel in the thought that no matter what, someone would always be there to protect and care for us. 

There's no reason to be afraid ever, even in what seems like the darkest hours…especially the darkest hours.

I now believe in fate.

Still not quite sure that an angel lives inside each of us…

But I do know that in the Oncology ward: room 241, an angel, a boy taught me about life.

He saved mine.