Michaelishious - Vol. 2020

Dec. 10th: Two lost souls

I'd seen him before. Surrounded by large men in black suits, there was no doubt who he was. But I never dared to walk over and talk to him.

Michael Jackson used to come to this playground now and then, probably because there hardly were anyone here. His three kids were laughing and shouting like most kids do at a playground, and I smiled when Michael sometimes had to shush them. He also calmed them down when they were arguing. Sometimes they fell and hurt a knee or an elbow, and I almost felt jealous by the way he comforted them. He truly was a great dad.

"Daddy? Can I take off my mask now?" his daughter asked, whom I'd learned was Paris. But Michael's eyes immediately scanned the playground and found a young couple sitting on a bench, more busy with each other than the air they were breathing. Then there was me and my son, Stephan.

"No, Paris. You can't," he said lowly and shook his head, and I was surprised to see that she immediately accepted that answer. Most kids, Stephan especially, would have thrown it off long time ago. It made me feel sad that he had to hide from the world like that, his kids especially. But I understood why a man like him had to take his precautions.

"Daddy! Look at me!"

The excited voice came from a blonde boy that, even with the large mask, beamed harder than the sun itself. He was sitting on the swing and looked like he was soaring happily through the air, weightless. His other son was a bit more careful. He was the silent type, and rarely made any sound at all, much less keeping unnecessary conversations. He was more of an observer, although he'd shown that he had quite a temper whenever something was unfair, which I found to be a good thing.

I was sitting on one of the three benches, lost in my thoughts, when Michael sat down next to me. I automatically stiffened and felt awkward. Why did he choose this bench when there was another one closer to the sandbox? Not that he intimidated me in any kind of way, because he was sitting far on the opposite side of the bench.

His aura and the way he carried himself was what amazed me. He was such an elegant and beautiful man, yet way too busy focusing on his kids than his appearance. He didn't really need that. He looked good in whatever he chose to wear.

Sometimes I could see that he was tired, even with large sunglasses and a hat pulled down low to cover his face. Not the usual parent-tired kind of way, even though I guessed that was a part of it, too. No, this was another kind of tired that I couldn't quite understand. The kind where one carries the world on your shoulders. And today was one of those days.

For a long time we just sat there in silence. It was like he appreciated my company without really exchanging any vocal words. His body language said what I needed to know. That was, until he sighed and sat back with his hands folded in his lap.

"You're here often, aren't you?" he stated out of the blue. I just nodded, too stunned that a man like him would even notice me.

"How old is your son?"

A surprised smile pulled at my lips without really breaking through. He'd obviously been observant enough to hear Stephan calling me 'mom'. Maybe I should feel creeped out? If it was a different man, I think I would be, but not Michael. He just sounded genuinely curious. 

"Five. Or... He's turning five next week."

"Oh. You're busy planning a party, then. I knew there was a reason you looked more thoughtful than usual."

I did my best to hide how startled I was. He was right. I probably was more absent minded today, but Stephan's birthday party wasn't the reason. He was.

"Yeah," I said reluctantly.

"Do you live nearby?"

I nodded in the direction of our apartment.