Michael Jackson and Diana Ross: A Love Story

For the Family

Michael's POV
"I haven't seen you in so long baby, I was worried about you. You avoiding me or what? And you got so thin!"

You smile at Katherine and take a sip of your pineapple juice.

"You're always worried about me Ma'. And I've always been skinny - I got the skinny gene from you, remember?"

She furrows her eyebrows.

"You ain't got no skinny gene from me!"

"I mean, all the men on your side of the family are skinny."

She plays with her chicken salad with her fork and scoffs:

"Well, if this is the kind of stuff you eat on the daily, then I guess it makes sense", she gestures towards the salad in mild disgust.

You chuckle and take another sip of your juice. There is some truth to her accusations : you've been letting almost all calls from the Jackson residence go to voice mail for a number of weeks now. You are a month and a half into the production of Thriller, and almost every waking moment has been spent writing out lyrics, scratching out choruses, humming instrumental parts and fine-tuning melodies. You've been especially stressed this week, because you've been fighting Quincy to include Billy Jean in the 9 records that will make it to the album. You think it's your best song-writing work to date - he disagrees. For all his prowess in the studio, Quincy could be so dense sometimes. The moment you penned the chorus of Billy Jean, channeling all your frustrations about encounters with groupies, famous women who sought after you and - your most bitter memory - the fall out with Diana Ross, you knew it would be a smash hit. So you couldn't believe your ears when you excitedly showed Quincy your demo and he shrugged and said that it sounded more like a filler song than a lead single.

"I wanna come visit you in that big mansion of yours, Michael."

"It ain't that big, Ma'."

You look at Katherine as she takes a reluctant bite into the salad. She is wearing peach lipstick and pink blush. Her eyelashes look thicker than usual, and her hair is smoothly brushed down, with a flowery pin attached to the left side. She has on a matching flowery dress, with a heart shaped golden necklace to compete the look. She is glowing, and it fills you with happiness to see that some of the money you dutifully send back home every month is actually going to her upkeep instead of being fully pocketed, as you had suspected, by her husband.

Katherine wipes her mouth with her table cloth and puts her fork down. She looks up at you and says softly:

"Why don't you return your Dad's calls?"

"Mom, if this is about the Jacksons album, he knows I've already made my decision and he should respect it!"

You try to control your voice - it isn't your mother you are angry at, after all - but you can feel the irritation building up inside you. You had made it very clear that you wouldn't be involved in another album for The Jacksons: you agreed to do one more tour with the group, one, and that was it. Joe knew that your solo career had already taken off, and that you refused be tied down to your family's talent. Yet he stubbornly tried to convince you otherwise, first with threats and then with thinly-veiled guilt trips.

"Don't forget where you came from, Michael!"

And now, sending your mother along as some form of emotional manipulation? When would he realize that he no longer had a grip on you?

You sigh and taken Katherine's hand in yours.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to lash out, I just don't have time to deal with Joe's demands right now: I'm spending all my time on my new album, and it's really stressful and I can't be side tracked."