Stitching these Wounds (Michael Jackson)

2. Torture

[Imani]

•••

May 7th, 1976

Continuing to walk down the street, my hand was entwined with Michael's. I sighed dramatically, relieved to know that it was finally Friday as Michael chucked at my actions.

I returned his chuckle, my gaze shifting from the street to him. "What?" I questioned, continuing to let lighthearted giggles escape my lips. "It's been a long week."

"Oh, I know," Michael remarked, shaking his head. "And it's about to get even longer for me." He pointed to his work name tag on the upper part of his uniform shirt, which caused me to nod in realization.

"Hey, at least you're making good money, right?" I reminded him.

"'Good money'," Michael snickered as he shook his head once again. "I mean, a man can dream."

The look of shock was obvious on my face. "They're underpaying you, aren't they?"

Michael nodded, confirming my question. "Look at our skin, Mani." He gestured towards the both of us. "Why wouldn't they underpay me, especially in a world like this?"

I grimaced at his words as the feeling of pure disgust went through the pit of my stomach. "That's awful," I stated.

"Yeah, it's very unfair," Michael told me, his brown gaze that was usually shining with bright emotions was exchanged with those of sad ones. "But, whatever it takes to help support my family."

I smiled at his way of thinking, but still felt a pang of pain in my heart for him as we continued walking in a comfortable silence. When we came into view with a sign that said Westpoint Market, I knew that we'd arrived at Michael's job.

We walked up to the doors before Michael held the door for me, allowing me to enter before himself. He greeted a few of his co-workers, most of them not even giving him the time of day. He then went behind the counter as I followed closely behind him, awaiting customers' arrival.

He sighed as he looked at me seriously. "I'm sorry about having to work today," Michael apologized sincerely. "I know it's not exactly the start to the weekend you were probably hoping for, but—"

"Don't," I interrupted him, walking around the counter to hold his hands tightly in mine. "You shouldn't have to apologize for supporting your family, I understand."

"Are you sure?" Michael questioned, a hint of guilt remaining in his tone.

"Of course," I reassured him. "Plus, Tara and I made plans to hang out, since I knew you'd be working."

Michael smiled at that as he continued preparing for his shift. "Oh, yeah," he spoke aloud. "She's feeling better, isn't she?"

I nodded, shining a toothy smile, causing Michael to chuckle. "Yes," I answered. "So, I'll just take the bus there."

"Sounds good," Michael agreed. "Just please be safe."

"I will," I soothed him. "Don't worry." I leaned in slightly to kiss his lips passionately and affectionately, hoping that the mark I'd left on them was enough to reassure him. When we heard many angry costumers beginning to shout curses at us, we took that as our cue to separate and bid each other farewell.