No, this was so wrong, he does not like lillies. He loves sunflowers. He should not be here, all alone, surrounded by those cold flowers, when he had always longed for the warmth of the 'happy flowers' making him smile.
Deep desperation penetrated...
"Daddy, can we stay with grandma tonight?" Prince dashed into the room breathlessly, and Michael had to laugh at his dirty, sweaty, drenched son. They had spent the day at the Havenhurst house and the children had a ball while he enjoyed listening to their laughter. It was the sound his dreams were made of: carefee joy. How he envied the uncompromising ability of childhood to live in the moment without giving a thought to the future. Much as he always had attempted to recreate this state of magic ignorance, it had never truly been his to relish. Intense gratitude that his children had this freedom filled him like a glowing light.
"What in the world have you been doing out there? You smell like a wet puppy."
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"We had a super soaker fight. Paris wants you to come outside. She needs an ally."
"Why aren't you her ally?"
Prince looked up at him as if Michael had just asked the question in Chinese.
"Ahh, 'cause she's a girl? Blanket is my ally." Price stated with self-evident conviction.
"Hey, don't dis your sister for being a girl. Not like she can help that. Plus, Prince, if you are really smart you learn to never underestimate girls."
Michael hoped with all his heart his son would remember this advice years from now. While women may be the physically weaker sex, they were by no means weak in any other sense of the word. As a matter of fact, his mother, Rebbie, Janet, as well as Liz were among the strongest human beings he had ever met. LaToya was a bit more flighty, but even she was a force to be reckoned with on many levels. These were the stong women who had sustained and supported him over the years. Other women in his life had held power over him and made him twist and turn like a deranged marionette in a hurricane of feelings and pain. Diana, Brooke, Tatum to some degree, Madonna, Lisa, Lisa again... a never-ending string of women trying to use their sexual powers to either get to him or take advantage of him.
Lisa...
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Guilt twisted his insides like a wet piece of scarlet silk. Red like her dress. Bunching under his hands as he pulled it up over her firm behind... He swallowed and closed his eyes trying to block out the image flashing on the screen of his mind.
