Moments with Michael

We can get through it together!

It's the year 1977, and Michael is 19 years old. You're 18, and the two of you have been dating for almost two years. You live with your parents and your little sister, very close to where he lives with the entire Jackson-family. (I know it's not totally historically correct, but let's just take that as artistic license, shall we 😉)

I sit in my room and read, when my phone all of sudden rings. I look at the number, it's Janet. A bit confused, I pick up the phone.

"What's up sis?" I ask

"Gry, I need you to come immediately!"

"What? Why? What's wrong?" I ask, all of sudden very concerned. Has something happened to Michael?

"It's Michael" she begins, causing my heart to almost stop as my fear has just been confirmed. "He has locked himself in his room and he's crying and he won't let me in and I don't know what to do!" She almost screams in the phone, her voice clearly showing how worried she is for her older brother.

"I'm on my way" I immediately answers, and she gets a bit calmer.

"Thank you"

I rush downstairs and out of the door, yelling to my parents that I'm going to visit Michael. I'm out of the door before they can answer, I grab my bike and hurries over to his house.

About five minutes later I throw my bike on the ground in their driveway and goes to the door. Janet opens for me a second before I was about to open it myself. We don't say anything, but she can surely see in my eyes how worried I am for him. She takes my hand and leads me upstairs, where I go to Michaels door and knocks it carefully. I can hear him sobbing, and I just want to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright.

"Go away, Janet!" Michael yells from his room, his voice clearly shows how sad he is.

"Michael, it's not Janet. It's me, Gry" I tell him

"Gry? What are you doing here?" He asks with a moment of confuse

"I'm here to visit you" I say, which is true. He just don't have to know that it was his little sister who called for me to help him. I can tell him that soon enough.

"Will you let me in?" I continue, and I hear him get up, walk to the door and turn the key, unlocking the door.

I quickly open the door and walk over and sit beside him on the bed. He looks down, probably not wanting to show me how much he has cried. His hands are folded in his lap, and he seems to focus on them. I place one arm around his shoulders in a clumsy attempt to comfort him.

"What's wrong Michael?" I ask carefully, not wanting to say anything wrong. I'm not really good at comforting people when they are sad.

He just snivels and closes his eyes hard in a useless attempt to prevent more tears from streaming down his cheeks.

"Michael, you have to tell me what's going on!" I say, a bit desperate "I can't bear seeing you like this"

He takes a deep breath, like to calm himself down. But he still doesn't say anything. So, I try again:

"Michael, is it me? Have I done anything that hurt you?"

"No" he finally manages to get out, making me sigh quietly in relief.

"What is it then? Is it... is it Joseph?" I ask with a sudden suspicion. Michaels father is not the kindest person on earth, and it is more than possible that he is the one who hurt Michael this much. That's the kind of power a parent has.

Michael nods in agreement, closing his eyes even harder as fresh tears falls from them. I reach out to take his hand in mine, and he squeezes it tightly.