Time Waits for No One

Chapter 8 - Too Shy To Say

August 28th, 1977

Latoya Jackson could not recall a time in her life when she had the luxury of enjoying a quiet breakfast. Born square in the middle of 9 children, Latoya came into a noisy home, and as her younger brothers and firecracker of a baby sister came after her one by one, Latoya had become well acquainted with the opposite of peace and quiet: ruckus and noise. So if anything, sitting at the table with Michael in near silence, save for Gloria's old country records spilling over from the kitchen (the only thing soothing her as it reminded her of her mother Katherine's tastes), was more disturbing to her spirit than it would be to others.

"Michael, are you gonna eat your food? If you don't like it, you should really tell Gloria! She can always make you something else." Latoya spoke, looking at her younger brother with concern as he dissociated into his plate of eggs and fruit. If the slump of his body language didn't tell her enough, her usually curious, chatty, and ever-the-morning person bro was definitely not acting like himself.

"It's fine, Latoya, thanks. I'm just not too hungry." Michael groaned back, sounding as if it were a taxing chore to even explain himself as he twisted his fork between his fingers.

"Well, you have to eat, Mike. You're working so hard, you should at least drink your juice." she urged, gesturing to the pulpy orange juice before him. When she got no response, she filled in the silence. "I mean, really, Michael, you were out all night. Are you hungover or something?"

"Jesus Christ, Latoya!" Michael swore while rubbing his temples, looking at her with a snarl on his lips as Latoya's face mirrored back shock. "Can't you tell I'm not in the mood to be bothered?"

Latoya took a second to fix her face and contain her calm, making an earnest attempt to be patient with Michael as she spoke through tense lips.

"I don't know who you're talking to..." Latoya calmly sounded out. "But I'm not across the country in this city for my health. Mother sent me to look out for you. I'm not trying to be annoying, I just want to make sure you're taking c-"

"Latoya, save it!" Michael shouted, rising from his seat, his fork clattering onto the plate. "Will you please climb down out of my ass and lay off me? Just for today? I'm beggin' you, Toy."

Before she could process the outburst, let alone formulate a response, Michael, in all his white t-shirt and pajama-panted glory was gone from the dining room, stomping back to his master bedroom. Had it been one of Toya's bossy older siblings or more temperamental young younger siblings, she would have launched off at the drop of a hat, her voice turning shrill and her words cutting like knives. It was Michael though. While Michael was no angel and him and Toya had had their fair share of sibling spats, especially in the tenure in New York, it was very unlike him to lead with such venom, so she showed mercy, finishing up her breakfast alone in a rare silence.

–

It was a quite dismal Sunday morning for Michael as he self-isolated laying in bed in his room, his only source of entertainment being the mental replays of his night over at Jacqueline's place. He was on a never-ending cyclical loop of emotions; first, lighthearted butterflies when he thought of his arrival, the smile on her face when she saw him arrive bearing gifts, and her adorable pink skirt. Then, a heat would rush up his neck when he saw their first kiss in his mind's eye, thinking of how hot, ardent, and impassioned they were and how it thrilled him to feel her delicate hands exploring his body as they took over her couch. How good he felt with his lips on hers, his fingers in her hair, how perfect she felt in his lap. The final scene in his cerebral cinema, the part he dreaded the most, but seemed to spend the most time trying to unpack was the disjointed and awkward ending. He hated everything about how he left it as he kept recalling her dejected expression as he prepared to leave. He hated how cold he got when she withdrew her touch, the discomfort that lingered as they finished the film. What he couldn't reconcile with was that she felt like it was her fault. He felt awful about the look in her eyes as he left, and that he ran away and didn't find the courage to find the right thing to say to reassure her.