Dance With Me

Dance With Me - Part 2 (MJJ Imagine No. 27)

Michael stands there waiting for you to lead the way. He doesn't let go of your hand. You shake your head because of the time but lead him upstairs anyway.

You walk through the entire upstairs telling him about your plans for each room – the four bedrooms, the bonus room over the garage, the two full bathrooms, the laundry room, even the stairs leading up to the attic. Lastly you show him the master bedroom and tell him your plans for your walk in closet, your sitting area, your bathroom and what you want for your bathtub and shower.

"Your bedroom inspired me." He laughs.

"I think you've been thinking about the bedroom you've always wanted for a long time, long before we met and I showed you Neverland."

"Yeah, but once I saw yours I got to see what I liked in an actual home; a home that was lived in, not just a spec house or a model in a showroom."

"Maybe I'll buy that. What's all this?" he asks while pointing to a piece of plywood lying against one wall of two-by-fours and big, cushy pillows all over the floor and a boom box in the corner.

"I like to come up here at the end of the day sometimes and look out that window. It has a beautiful view I'll show you tomorrow evening. The plywood is to lean against and the pillows to sit on. It's peaceful and I can do some writing. I also like to de-stress up here so that means I also need big, soft, cushy pillows to lie on while I listen to some soft music."

"What do you listen to?"

"Light music, some Motown, some country love songs, classical, you."

"You listen to me to help de-stress? Aww." He brings his hands up and crosses them on his chest. "I'm touched."

"Shut up." You giggle while pushing him away. "Of course I listen to you. How could I not?" He picks up a pillow and throws it at you. "Michael!" You throw one back at him.

"You better be careful. You know you're not going to win." He grabs another pillow and starts hitting you with it.

"MICHAEL JOE JACKSON! BEHAVE!" You get a pillow in your stomach. "That does it, mister!" You pick up a pillow and fight him back.

The next fifteen or twenty minutes are spent hitting each other with your pillows and chasing each other through the rooms while hiding behind and also running between the two-by-fours. When the time and the day's rehearsing and performing have caught up to Michael once again, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You scream. He walks back to the master bedroom and kneels down on your cushions. He leans forward and you fall onto the cushions as he collapses on them next to you.

Once both of you stop laughing, you turn your head and look at him. "That was fun. Thank you." He turns on his side and looks at you. His look is serious but you can't read him. His silence and look aren't awkward nor are they making you uncomfortable, they're just different; something you've never seen from him before.

Something is definitely going on with him. He looks like he wants to talk but also like he's not sure what to say. Did something happen on tour? He would have told me when we talked while he was overseas, wouldn't he? He did say he wanted to talk in the car but he fell asleep.

Just as you're about to ask him, he gets up and walks over to your boom box. You watch him crouch down and pick up your stack of CDs. As he looks through them, he finds one that makes him smile. He puts it in and selects the last track. As the music begins, he walks over to you and holds out his hand to you.

"Dance with me." You recognize the music, wondering why he chose that particular song and why he wants to dance. You've danced with him plenty of times before, but it was never just the two of you alone and never to a song like this one. You get up and hesitantly take his hand. "I won't bite." You smile and look down. He draws you into him and whispers in your ear, "Just dance with me." He rests one hand at the small of your back and with his other hand, he holds your hand to his chest as he moves to the music. You lay your head against his shoulder. His shirt is still damp from the sweat of his performance. You close your eyes and move with him, letting him lead you in his slow dance while he sings along with your CD. When the song ends, he continues to sway. After a few minutes he tells you, "A lot happened with me on tour." You open your eyes. "You and I talk on the phone all the time, we write letters to each other, when I want to see you or you want to see me I fly here for the weekend or fly you out to Neverland. We may not live close together, but in the scheme of things we are close. It's a quick flight to see each other. But while touring, you felt too far away. The time differences and my schedule didn't allow us to talk as much as we normally do and writing letters was difficult because I was moving to another venue every few days. We did manage both but it really wasn't enough for me. I had a lot of time at night to think and it was you who constantly filled those thoughts because all I wanted was you there with me." You lift your head and look at him. He stops moving.