Red & Black || Michael Jackson

one - arrivals

Red & Black — started December 4, 2023.

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Note: this chapter contains mention of neglect and mild trauma.

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— July 27, 1989.

"Daddy, my ears feel funny."

The combination of light distress and childlike puzzlement from a young first-time flier is enough to earn a chuckle from his father, as they enter the Arrivals section of Heathrow Airport. The father, a thirty-year-old man, is adorned with sweet caramel skin and chiselled features, that allow the light to contour his face flawlessly. His gorgeous ebony curls are tied messily into a loose ponytail, to save from sweating in the summer heat.

He maintains a comfortable grip on his beloved son's hand, as they walk through the numerous long corridors to the baggage collection department. The five-year-old boy is the embodiment of him — with a tiny frame; tightly-curled hair of the same shade of jet black; and little doe eyes of a chocolate brown hue.

"Just keep swallowing, Casey. Eventually your ears will unblock." The man possesses a voice as soft as velvet; hushed, yet dripping with a masculine smoothness. "Did you have fun on the plane?"

"It was weird," the boy, Casey, responds. "And the clouds were fun."

"I think I even caught you takin' a little nap," the man teases. "But that's alright. The time here is three o'clock in the afternoon. You'd only just be waking up if we were still back home."

Casey nods flippantly in understanding, wanting to change the subject to his more pressing matter. "Is Mommy going to come and visit us?"

"Uh ... " The dark, neatly-groomed brows of the man furrow, as he takes a moment to consider his answer. "Well, I'm not sure. I can't answer that question right now."

His eyes avert sadly down to the ground as the pair arrive at the baggage claim room. The collection of suitcases starts to tumble onto the conveyer belt, being whisked around the entirety of the vicinity for the passengers to grab.

The poor man has never been certain on how to explain to his child, that his mother wants nothing to do with either of them. Everything had gone so perfectly between him and his former partner, Valerie — they'd found one another in 1978 at age twenty; gotten married back in 1981, at the age of just twenty-three; and then welcomed their son Casey in 1984, at the age of twenty-five. In his eyes, life couldn't have gone any better; he had doted on Casey, and he had doted on Valerie.

Things took a turn, however, when Casey was only six months old. Valerie had started becoming distant — and in doing so, she was neglecting her baby boy. She left her crying infant alone in the middle of the night while she rested, expecting the poor sleep-deprived father to take on all the feeding duties. She never played with her son; she rarely interacted with him; and she never even seemed to want to be in the same room as him.

One afternoon, when the boy was three years old, the man had returned from work to find a note waiting for him.

Michael

I'm not going to pretend my heart is in it anymore. I'm filing for divorce, and you can have sole custody of Casey.

We did all of this too young. I made a huge mistake and now I'm living to regret it.

I'm sorry. I'm not cut out to be a mother or a wife. And I don't care to be either of those things anymore.

Expect the paperwork soon.