Book 5- 1969 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 1- State Of Dilapidation

                Chapter 1- State Of Dilapidation

                Date: Thursday, January 9, 1969

                Time: 6:42PM

                MICHAEL'S POV

I hated having no practice. I thought I would never say that, not until I was in my own grave, but I said it today, and I meant it with every fiber of my being. I hated having no practice at home more than almost anything else in the whole wide world.

It mostly had to do with Kayla and the fact that she was not in town. Kayla told me about what was going down three days ago, the day before she departed. It turns out that some family member in Georgia was in debt and needed some assistance with paying off her mortgages, whatever those were. So, being the seemingly happy family they are, she and the three others living in her house left to help the family member out.

That had not bothered me at all- at least, not at first. Ever since she left for Georgia, however, some weird stuff has taken place at our house. I wasn't sure whether or not the same stuff happened to Kayla, because of our... similarities, to put things vaguely. 

For one, the Jackson Five and Johnny have not had any practice. Normally, I would have viewed this absence of work as a celebration. I mean, it would have been great to have some time off and just kick back and relax. It would have been a dream come true. 

The little time of luxury that we could have had was not in store for my unfortunate brothers and I. Rather, we were put to work my Mommy. Of course, Jermaine and I agreed that she had a rational reason behind all of these chores. Ever since Rebbie had left, the house had been a disaster area. Laundry was backed up, most of the dishes were dirty, and rooms were disorderly. 

The only problem was, the five of us in the band were not used to these kinds of chores. Typically, we stacked and un-stacked bricks, loaded equipment, folded out laundry, and made our beds. THat was about all that we had time to do. All of this work was foreign to us. In the end, La Toya ended up having to teach the five of us how to do certain things.

Personally, I had to say the hardest one to learn was probably starting laundry loads with coordinating colors. Who knew that mixing red and white was a bad idea?

Anyways, today was meant to be the last day before practice began to pick up once again. It should have been a happy day, just because of that very reason. Unfortunately, it was my least favorite of all, for a couple reasons.

Today, I had to take charge of vacuuming, which I had never done before. In fact, the only times I had seen the vacuum were when Mommy had to clean out our rooms before going to bed, and when Rebbie went through the living room. Like in the beginning, La Toya guided me along the way.

"Michael," she told me, "you press this button here. You have to carry the cords along the way so that they won't get caught. When you're finished, you just unplug the cords from the switches." She gazed at th plug-in spot before adding, "These new models are so much more efficient than the built-in ones, don't you think?"

"Yeah... I guess so." I held my throat with my free hand, rubbing the area softly. Speaking was beginning to scratch my throat up.

"Anything wrong?" she questioned, raising one eyebrow suspiciously.

"Throat's scratchy, that's all," I replied. It had been for the whole day, but the feeling was starting to bother me now. I figured that all of this cleaning was probably freeing a ton of dust particles, and I was having lung congestion. That was a perfectly sane, rational answer.

That's all I am, I reassured myself. Sane, rational, ordinary... 

I could not bring myself to really think that about myself. I wasn't ordinary in the least. What other kid could only talk about the times that he has met up with Bobby Taylor, Diana Ross, Sammy Davis, Gladys Knight, Etta James, and so many others? Ordinary was, unluckily, not the word to describe me. Of course, I also had that thing with Kayla. I would have rather not thought about it, though. People always made so much of a big deal out of it. And by "people", I mean family, the ones who are supposed to have-

"Earth to Mike! What did I just say?"

"Hmm?" I asked, still holding what I assumed was my esophagus.

She groaned, throwing her head back in the process. "Michael... Are you alright? You've been acting...strange. Stranger than normal, I should say."

I felt my eye twitching. I'm not strange. I'm unique, that's what I am. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, I probably said that the wrong way. I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean it like that... Anyways, I was just telling you how to put the cords back on the vacuum neatly. I'm sure you know, though. I've got to go now to clean up the bathrooms, but if you need me, just say something, mmkay?" She turned around, ready to head on her merry way to the house's lavatory.

"Wait!" I croaked. "What about the cords?"

"You'll be alright," she said calmly. With that, she sashayed away in her girly walk. 

I stood in place for a moment, just trying to catch myself up with what was going on. I had to vacuum, of course, and after that I would join Marlon and shovel snow out of our walkway outside. Mommy would most likely call for dinner in a few moments, and I would have to stop work for those blessed 30 minutes of dinner time.

I held back the urge to cough for a few seconds. The feeling ceased, and the itchiness was left. Darn colds...

I pushed on the large button that turned on the vacuum. A rather loud whirrr-ing sound emanated from the machine, indicating that it was ready to go. I pushed on the device with all the might my fifty-seven pounds of being gave me, and brought the monster across the floor. I went back and forth in this particular area until I knew the dust and other particles had been removed from our hard, rough wooden floor.

As I watched myself working, a rather downcast thought entered my mind. I told myself that I would try not to meditate on the fact, but I could not pry myself from it. Rebbie used to do this... Rebbie would be vacuuming when we all practiced. 

The fact that everyone in the band had no choice but to abide to Joseph and not utter a word to her, or anyone else for that matter, made me feel frustrated on the inside. I had no say in whether or not I could have bonding time with her, or moments where the two of us just sat and talked with each other. We were more like people who lived with one another, rather than siblings.

Now getting upset, I jerked the vacuum as far as I could go with my little, scrawny arms. I never realized just how much I loved Rebbie's presence until now, when I felt as though I needed her. She was fundamental to the Jackson family. She was almost like the steering force of the kids, and she was gone. There was no captain to guide us along the way.

She was like a balance on one side of a scale. She seemed to make this balance clean and even. But when she was gone, one side became heavier than the other, and brought her former side up too far. That was what our family was now.

When I was finished with the cleaning, I scuffed along the floor and irritably pulled out the plug to the vacuum, I heard the whirrr-ing sound die away, and the machine was no longer alive. As told by La Toya, I rolled up the cords and placed them the way I believe that she told me to. This completed one more chore that I did not want to do, because Rebbie wasn't here.

For the first time since she had left, I felt upset. Rebbie would have known what to do with me, and how to make me feel better. She would have probably made some kind of soup or given me a cough drop to soothe my throat, because she was a fabulous big sister. 

I wanted Rebbie back, and I could not deny it. Unfortunately, there was one thing I definitely knew, and that unsettled me to no end.

Rebbie wasn't coming back to stay. She was an adult.

Our house would forever be in a state of dilapidation.