Moments with Michael

In the night

It's summer 1999, and you and Michael have been married for 10 years. You have four kids together, but right now they're away on a summer camp.

"No!" Michael yells in pure anger.

I lift my head from the book I'm reading, and looks at him with compassion in my eyes.

"What is it this time, sweetheart?" I ask him, my voice as soft and calming as possible. There comes new, crazy rumors about him all the time, and it really hurts him. Of course it does. And it could sound like there's a new one now.

"They're saying it again! Why do they do it to me, why? Why does everyone hate me?" He exclaims, his voice filled with anger and despair. He almost scream out the last words, standing up from the couch and giving the TV the strongest death glare. I throw a glance at it too, and the headline New evidence: does Jacko bleach his skin? leaps out at me. I sigh deeply before turning to Michael.

"Michael, I know this is not in any way fair, and even less true. But it's nothing new, and most people already know, that it's not true."

"Oh really? If they do, then why does this keep coming up?" He snaps angrily at me.

"I don't know!" I tell him with a despondent tone in my voice. "I guess it sells good among the haters."

"Why? Why do people buy that garbage, it's not even close to the truth, not in any way! And why even sell it?!"

"For the money, Michael. Some people only care about money, not the feelings of the people they write about, or the truth of their words." I tell him straight out. Of course he already knows that. He even wrote a song about it on his HIStory album, Money. But he tends to forget it when he gets angry.

"I don't understand it!" He yells, grabbing a small, glass vase from the coffee table and throwing it at the floor dangerously close to his feet. It breaks into a thousand small pieces with a loud bang!

"Michael!" I say in a firm voice, standing up from the couch. "I know and understand that you are upset, but do not break things and do not hurt yourself!"

He looks at me, and I see the anger in his eyes slowly fade away, only to be replaced with a deep sadness.

"Stand still, I'm getting a broom" I tell him with a small smile on my lips, making sure he knows that I'm not mad at him.

When I get back to the living room with the broom only a few moments later, Michael is still standing in the middle of all the pieces of broken glass. I give him and sympathetic look, before sweeping all the glass pieces up on a dustpan and quickly going to throw them in the garbage.

When I return to the living room a second time, Michael has still not moved. He's just standing there, in the middle of the floor, with his back to me. I walk up to him, hugging him from behind. I can feel him shaking, and I go so I can see his face.

Tears are streaming from his beautiful, dark, eyes, right now filled with more sorrow, than I had thought humanly possible, before I met him. He just feels everything so strongly! I carefully take his hand and lead him to the couch again, sitting down with my arms around him.

For a long time we just sit like that, no words spoken between us as he cries and I hold him and try my best to comfort him, stroking his back and laying my head against his arm, to make sure he knows, that he's not alone. I will always be there for him.

After a long time, maybe 15 or 20 minutes, I can feel his shoulders shaking less than before, hear his sobbing calm down.

"Are you okay now?" I ask him quietly, moving a bit so I can look him in the eyes.