Before I Let Go

Before I let Go - Act I

                    Hayvenhurst, Encino CA, 2005
                                        7:45pm

In the stillness.
Something was lying in the thick air.
It was the smell of hope, a belief that better days  would be seen.
That strife was only a fleeting and temporary part of life.
That though unavoidable, pain would never last forever.

That is what Michael used to believe anyway.
That is what Michael was trying to convince himself of now.

He tightened his fists in balls on his knees, as faint purple and green bruises surfaced more clearly on his pale wrists.

The wool braided bracelets, affectionally made by his children, hung loosely around his wrists too.

The sun was cutting in through the lace white curtains of his childhood bedroom, splaying themselves like huge strobes on the dark wooden floor.

For the most part, the room was dark, except for the obvious sunshine.

Michael could feel himself disassociating.
He wasn't living inside of himself anymore.
It's like he was watching himself, like he was floating in a corner somewhere, observing the lifeless vehicle that his soul once occupied.

"Can I join you?" Kimberly asked softly, tapping her knuckles on the wooden door.

Though it was a question, she was only warning him that she was entering the room.

Kimberly.

Standing at 5'5, and at least 2 inches of that height was hair.

It hung around her head like a big black thunder cloud, every curl a soft roll.
It was amazing, really.

Michael had always admired the time that she dedicated to sitting there patiently, as a stylist placed curler after curler in her head.

Yes, he teased her many a time, because technically it wasn't her hair.

Still, he thought she looked gorgeous all the same.

"You flick that around like you grew it.." He would giggle, whenever she would flip it over her shoulder in such a self righteous way.

Kimberly had soft skin, the kind that felt like it would melt in your hands if it was too hot out.

She was a cinnamon brown, with a high brow, that sat sometimes judgementally over huge brown eyes.

Eyes that were almost always adorned with lashes.

A smile that slid all the way up to her ears, revealing pearly white teeth that sat in a glistening, straight row.

And her figure? Homegrown.

Always joking about her little "mommy pouch" she'd acquired from having two little brown babies.
Michaels babies.

Always twisting herself around in the mirror to observe, and admire her rounded behind.
High and tight.

Very much the hourglass, but that was typical to a woman from Odessa, TX.

She tip toed into the room, because Michael didn't turn his head or answer.

Her white toenails were catching the light from the window, and her ankle bracelets were casting rainbows across the floor as she stepped in.

Michael inhaled, "K.." He sighed, "What does it all mean?" He asked woefully, looking up when he realised she was standing in front of him.

She smelled so sweet, "It means nothing" She huffed dryly, pushing her hand under his chin, and stroking the cleft in it with her thumb, "Sometimes, bad things happen to good people, baby" She was frowning at him now, because his eyes were different.

The light in them had been blown out, and the world seemed to reflect much darker in them.

For awhile, there was an uncomfortable silence.
A silence of knowing.

The phone didn't ring as much as it used to.

People that had attended her and Michaels wedding, were the same people who had dissociated themselves completely from her family.

The Jackson brand was in danger.
Kimberly feared, it would never be the same.

"K, I don't wanna do this anymore.." Michaels voice was trembling.
Tears were sprouting from deep inside of his stomach, and spurting like a burst water pipe, up into his chest, and bubbling in his throat.

Eyes stinging, Michael pulled his face away from the hand of his wife.
Yet again, she would have to watch him be reduced to a crying mess.

His embarrassment only made his eyes grow foggier with tears.
Kimberly felt as if every sniffle Michael let out, was attached to her heart with a small invisible string.

And it tugged.
Kimberly sank down onto her knees, between the lap of her husband.

His tears could fall directly into her lap now, as she peered up at him.
His eyes were screwed shut, and those peach pink lips were shaking.
She died inside.

Look at him.
Her precious, baby.
He was so helpless.
He was so empty.
He was tired.

Michaels body was moving differently.
He walked differently.
He talked differently.

The trial had made him a cynic.
Irritated.
Paranoid.
Most of all, depressed.

The rage would kill her if the sadness didn't.
She could only feel blind rage at those who were concocting their twisted lies against him.

Her everything.
They were destroying her family. Lies were destroying her husband.
She felt like she was watching the love of her life, wither away.

"I know you're tired," She began, as she opened her mouth, only to taste a salty tear from her own eye, "But it's ending. It's all coming to a head.." She spoke firmly, taking her hands, and gripping his.

His hands were huge.
Her little brown hands looked so dainty in his huge pale palms.

Kimberly squeezed Michaels fingers until she could see the blood rush into them.
"I love you. I love you so much, it's killing me.." Kimberly sniffed, which set Michael off.

Now he was sobbing, and his body was jerking.
No sound, but his cries were felt.
Kimberly could see him as he dropped her hands to hide his face.
"Don't you ever," She paused, her voice trembling, "Forget that. I'd rather be dead, than not by your side.." Kimberly hissed, sniffing, as Michael threw his arms around her neck.

He squeezed her, and they stayed there.
For what felt like forever.