Short stories where Michael Jackson is the ideal, romantic, kind, caring and most handsome man that ever walked the earth (well he Was all that and much more so this book just takes him as he was and just places him in different imaginary contexts)...
“I’m very happy to be here, and just think nobody thought this would last” he says as the camera zooms out and then zooms back in as Michael puts his arms around Lisa and kisses her passionately.
I gawk at the T.V. screen, confused. Just a month ago this guy confessed that he loved me and today I see him on T.V. proclaiming his love for another woman in front of millions of people.
Why do I always fall for Michael’s sweet words? Why can’t I get it in my head that he’s the king of pop, he’s got an “image” to maintain. Probably everything he does, everything he says is only for that image. He feels nothing, I think to myself recollecting memories of Michael, his soft voice, his gentle touch, his smile…ugh… why can’t I get this man out of my head. I slap my hand across the brick wall in frustration and it starts bleeding. I let it bleed and sit down on the floor crying my eyes out. I hate Michael, I hate him. I repeat to myself, holding my knees close to my body to keep it from shivering.
“Joanne?” I know the voice. I’ve loved this soft gentle voice all my life, but at this moment I hate it more than anything else in this world.
“Joe, baby what have you done?” he says kneeling down next to me, taking my bleeding palm into his hand and caressing it.
“Grace, bring the first aid quick” he screams looking into the kitchen.
“Michael GO AWAY” I emphasize without looking up and pulling my hand vehemently away from his, almost slapping his palm in the process. He sits down next to me, resting his back against the wall. “I’m not going away and you know that” I begin to get up and leave but he holds my hand. I turn back and for the first time look at his face.
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I think he’s been crying because his eyes are as red as my bleeding hand and as swollen as my grumpy face. But I’m not going to fall for his pretense, not again, never again. “Joanne, please listen to me, it’s not what you think” he says and I see tears welling up in his puffy eyes again. “Then how is it Michael? Don’t give me that same old excuse again, ‘baby it’s all just for the camera, I don’t love Lisa, but I have to do it for my “image”, I love only you, yadayadayada” I say mimicking his innocent expressions and mocking his high-pitched voice.
He doesn’t say anything but keeps looking down.
Grace brings the first aid kit and is about to give it to Michael but I grab it from her hands. “Grace, I can take care of myself!” I scream at her angrily. “I’m sorry ma’am” she says before scuttering off.
“I love you”
“shut up Michael! Please don’t make it worse than it already is, just leave”
“I love you”
“Michael, just leave” I say becoming more and more frustrated with every passing second.
“I love you”
“MICHAEL JOSEPH JACKSON!” I scream and Grace rushes out from the kitchen to see if everything is alright.
“I’ve had enough” I continue shouting, ignoring Grace and Bill, Michael’s bodyguard who has also come into the room now. I am so angry with Michael at this point that I can’t even look at him. I don’t care what he’s doing, whether he’s crying or laughing, whether he’s hurt or pleased, I don’t give a fuck. I am so overcome with anger that I lose all bodily sensation. Only my mouth keeps moving even as the connection between my mouth and brain has been lost a long time ago.
“Every time you do what you have to do, no no, what you want to do and then come up with all kinds of explanations for your actions. Every time I believe you, I fight with myself for you Michael and every time I’m disappointed, heartbroken.” My voice shivers as I continue ranting. I’m letting it all out today, the bubbles of anger were now overflowing.
“you say you love me and I want to believe you, but I can’t, not anymore, you say something and do something completely different. I’m tired Michael” I say breaking down
“I’m tired of us” I finish softly.
There’s silence in the room for a long time.
“I love you”
“Bye Michael” I say turning around and going into my room. I close the door behind me and fall on the bed crying uncontrollably. I gasp for breath between my sobs and stretch my hand to grab a pillow.
Suddenly my attention goes to my hand. A white bandage was neatly tied around my wounded palm.
“All this while, when I was shouting at him, screaming my head off, he was gently bandaging my bleeding palm” I think to myself and cry even harder. Why is he so sweet. Why does he do this to me. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, I have to end this once and for all, I decide getting off from the bed and storming to the door.
“I love you” I hear Michael’s voice coming from the other side.
I open the door angrily and see him standing there...
I love you he mouths looking at me.
In an instant, unknowingly, I find myself bending forward and kissing him. He closes his eyes, smiles and kisses me back.
