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Being There	By : Carlac80 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Michael Jackson Views: 1357 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction! I do not know Michael Jackson nor any members of the Jackson family, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three: Introductions

Before I knew it, almost a month had passed and I was still not quite used to my new reality. Some things were just jumbled. In 1969, my father and mother should have been twenty five and twenty respectively. However, it would appear that ten years had been tacked on to that. In my reality, my father was a custodian. In this reality, my father was an engineer. His time in the military would appear to be reason for being in California. In my reality, my father was never in the military. Wow…talk about a difference. My mother on the other hand, went on to become a math teacher. That’s not that surprising since I’ve always known her to have a passion for math.

Long story short, it appears that my parents were pretty much well to do considering the time period. They owned our four bedroom house in West Hollywood and they were pretty much out here by themselves with both of their families staying in North Carolina. After wrapping my head around that aspect, I have still yet to figure what my purpose is for being here. Thinking about the night I went to bed in 2009, I knew I was thinking about Michael Jackson. However, I did not think myself that self important to believe he had anything to do with my purpose or if I had a purpose at all for that matter, and decided to let things play out until I got more information.

As it was, I decided to take this bazaar situation as a chance to do the ultimate do-over, that do-over that most of us wish for in life, but we never get. These past few weeks I’ve had plenty of time to do nothing but think and came to some startling conclusions about myself. First and foremost, I was unhappy and it was no one’s fault but my own. Somehow along the way, I had figuratively gotten into the back seat of the car called life that I should have been driving. When things didn’t go my way, I just rolled over instead of fighting. I was not assertive. I was not engaging. I was not self-aware. Really, how could I be twenty five years old, at least mentally, and not know who I was and what I wanted? Then that begged the question, was I really mentally twenty five or in a state of arrested development?

Not to bore you with melodramatic introspection, I’m just going to say that I was going to live my time in this era to the fullest. The sixties and the seventies were a time of great change and I was going to embrace that change for myself. No fear!

Well…I may have to rethink this no fear thing because that mantra sure wasn’t working for me that good as I waited for my turn to introduce myself to my sixth grade classmates. I could have cursed up to high heaven if I didn’t know it would get me kicked out of class. Wait, that might not be a bad idea, but then I remembered my mother. Getting kicked out of class would NOT be smart, but sitting in this classroom brought up some things that I didn’t quite think about earlier. One was that my childhood lisp was back and only got worse when I nervous. Two was that I had just come to realize that I was going to have to go through puberty all over again. The first time sucked enough as it was and this time period is probably lacking some of the modern conveniences to make it better.

Realizing that I was whining, I mentally put the can on myself. A twenty five year old woman should not be intimidated by a bunch of eleven and twelve year olds and neither should a ten year old that skipped a grade.

With that thought, I was able to get through my introduction with my dignity intact and proceeded to walk back to my desk when I heard the door towards the front of the class open. Taking a quick glance back, my head immediately snapped back around to the front once my brain registered what it was seeing. I knew it was only a few seconds, but it felt like a few minutes as my eyes took in what I seeing and debating it whether to be true. I instantly took in the beginnings of the afro and the prominent cheekbones barely hidden by baby fat. However, when I got to his eyes, it seemed like everything stopped for me or maybe it was just my brain function. I knew those big brown eyes and had seen them on and off for most of my twenty five years. This is it. This is him. This is Michael.

Said Michael’s eyes widened in my direction and pointed towards me. However, my synapses weren’t functioning properly and by the time I realized he was pointing at the knapsack in my path, I was well on my way towards my meeting with the floor. To add insult to possible injury, I felt the tale tell feeling of wind under my skirt signifying my class getting a larger introduction from me than they bargained for. When I finally hit the ground, it seemed like everything came back into sync. I could hear the other students laughing and the Mrs. Jamison, the teacher, trying to stop them from laughing.

Smoothing my skirt down, thanks a lot mom, I did the only thing I could do. I laughed. I laughed at it all. I laughed at the fact that I managed to embarrass myself despite my attempts not to. I laughed at the fact that Michael’s first impression of me is going to be the girl who busted her ass and laughed like a loon about it. I laughed to keep from crying at the sight of his presence and knowing all what’s in store for him.
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Being There