My Lost Love

Chapter 14 - Ouch

1983

     Oh, '83.  What a year.  By February, Michael's new album Thriller was already certified platinum.  His singles continued to sit high and pretty on the charts. In March he made history when the video for his song Billie Jean was added to MTV's playlist.  It was a major deal being that he was a black artist.  But even they couldn't ignore how big this album was.  How much of a breakthrough his music videos had become.  Thriller was making history right before my eyes and I couldn't be more proud of him.

     Michael called me up and told me if I wanted to see him to meet him on the set of his video for his song Beat It.  He had been all over the place lately, here and there promoting the album.  And his house was being rebuilt so he was definitely never around.  He asked me to bring Michella but when I heard he was filming in east Hollywood on Skid Row, I passed.

     "Hey, you," I said walking into his trailer.  The first thing I noticed was that same blonde playing in his hair.  I sighed and gave her a quick wave.  "Hey."

     "Hi," she said smiling. 

     "Can you give us a minute, Karen?"

     "Of course.  Call me back in when you need me."  Once she left the room, I walked closer to Michael.

     "Why are you so rude?" he asked smiling.

     "I'm not."  My heart rate grew higher as I got closer to him.  "Is she your new stylist or something?"  It was a side effect of falling.

     He cleared his throat.  "I guess.  She's does a good job."

     "That girl doesn't know what to do with your hair," I whispered with an arched brow.

     "But she knows what to do with my skin."

     I didn't really understand what he meant by that.  "Your skin?"

     He shook his head.  "Never mind.  I'll explain later I guess.  I really need to show you something."

     "Show me what?"

     "I don't want to talk about it right now.  Where's Michella?"

     "With my grandmother."  I took a seat next to him.  As soon as I did, the smell of foundation was overwhelming. I know that may sound odd but as my eyes followed the scent, I realized there was a ton of supply of it laid out in front of him on the table.  "What's all of this?"

     "She was trying different things." 

     "Karen?"

     He nodded.  He seemed to be in some internal battle with himself. 

     "What's up with you?"

     He sighed and twisted his chair towards me.  He sprayed a napkin and began scrubbing his hand.  As the white napkin turned brown, his hand turned white.  The first thing I thought was that he burned himself.  "What happened?" I asked taking hold of his hand.

    "More like what's happening."

     I looked at him confused.  "What is it?"

     "I don't know.  I've noticed small blotches for a while but I thought nothing of it.  But they're growing and spreading."  I could hear the distress in his voice and it was breaking my heart.