The Beautiful Katastrophe

(IX) Homecoming

Friday, July 15, 1983

     "You're so sweet, baby."  Michael made a hole in both of our busy schedules to take me out to dinner to some fancy Italian restaurant.  I was leaving early the next the morning to visit home for the first time since I left Minneapolis. 

     Before Michael and I spent our last night in his cozy little attic, he wanted to fill my belly.

     "What do you plan on doing while you're out there?"

     I shrugged.  "I miss my family and friends.  I'm gonna just hang out, I guess."  Michael was nice enough to extend my stay from three days to seven.

     I was grateful but hesitant.  He was doing so many short films and promotional appearances but he told me he would be just fine.  Karen would be filling in for me.

     "The seven days will fly by, though, I know it," I mentioned with a sigh.  I looked up and was met by guilty eyes.  "Baby, I didn't mean it like that," I said, laughing.

     "I should give you time off more often."

     "No.  I love my job.  Missing home is natural.  Once the Thriller high dies down a little, I'll visit them more."

     "That's the thing.  I never stop."

     By then, I had gotten well acquainted with Michael's work habits and I definitely noticed the machine in him early on in our work relationship. 

     "Baby, this album has been huge.  Not just for you, but the entire music industry. Maybe you should take a little break afterwards."

     "Can you imagine me having to compete with myself?"

     "That's my point.  We shouldn't even be talking about this.  We should just...enjoy the moment."

      As silence was traded in for our little squabble, I began actually eating my pasta dinner. 

     Michael became mute and played with his food.  I tried to ask casual questions, start up a conversation, but I only received replies of shrugs and mumbles. 

     I rolled my eyes and just kept sighing.  He was kind of pissing me off.

     "What's wrong?" I asked swallowing my last bite.

     "Just thinking about some stuff."  Finally, he gave me the pleasure of his eyes again.  "The album and stuff...how everything turned out."

     "You should be proud of yourself."  He was breaking so many records as we spoke.

     "Thanks, baby," he said with a half grin.

     I smiled, acceptingly.  "Cheer up, Charlie."  I reached over the table and took the fork from his hand.  It was a shame I had to feed him.  "Open your mouth," I laughed.

     He took the fork back and fed himself.  "Please don't worry about me while you're away.  I want you to just enjoy yourself."

     "Then eat.  I feel like a pig," I said, eyeing my empty plate.

     He took three more forkfuls of his fancy salad, then proceeded to dig something out of his jacket's inner pocket.  "Don't freak out, but I got something for you."

     As soon as I seen the long box, topped with a purple bow, I knew I was about to freak out. Michael didn't celebrate birthdays as a Jehovah's Witness, so I didn't really know how to accept it.  How many times was I going to make this boy sin for me?