I Wish the King | Another Life For Michael Jackson

1979

When you leave a party, do you ever wonder what people do next? Maybe they talk about you for a while, or hardly at all. Maybe you were a real cut-up and it's not as fun after you go.

Or maybe in your absence somebody raises up. You occupied a certain bandwidth, but someone else had that potential too. Most often I think that's what happens. Your step off is someone else's step up.

With surprise, I saw it happen in my family after I left. In ways simple and subtle, the space I left was filled.

If I'd stayed, I might have pushed us further in the direction of "Destiny". Or maybe I would have left the family band, and made some solo records. Something had to give. I was confined, like a little Mozart with his hands tied.

But with me out of the picture, Janet started to shine. She became the main attraction, no longer the little cupcake who did a miniature Mae West interlude. The band reverted to their classic business strategy. Janet was only 13, so they were back to being a child prodigy act. Now Motown could wait a few more years before the band would need to grow up, or be retired.

~~~~~~

Constance had been in Texas, visiting her mother for a couple months. It was January when she returned, a slow time for the club. We were only booking performers on the weekends, and most of our business came from birthday dinners and such.

Constance and I got into taking rain walks. We'd slicker up, wearing big vinyl hats and exploring the neighborhood for an hour or two. Other times, we'd take the bus out to Memorial Park Cemetery. There were some benches under giant willow trees, and very few visitors to disturb us.

"It's relieving isn't it?"

"What, death?"

"That none of this'll mean a thing in a hundred years."

She was an unusually serious 18 year old.

"How can you be so sure? I love Huck Finn, and that was written a hundred years ago. And old W.C. Handy, people might still be singing his songs a hundred years from now!"

"You got a point."

"But I think I know what you mean. All the little dramas are kind of an illusion. You can skip out on the whole party."

"And meanwhile, our souls hang in the balance."

"Yup."

She punched me on the chin, slow-mo.

"That's why you ran off, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah. I guess so."

"You took control of your soul."

"Or my self, or whatever."

She nodded once slowly, like Lou Anne would have.

"But what are you doing with your self now?" She looked at me and squinted.

"I'm...well... I'm working at Rex's and hiding out!"

"Annnd?"

"Getting away from the madness."

She looked away, frustrated. I didn't know what else to say.

"So I know what you're not doing. But what's your purpose?"

She pointed a finger at the ground to emphasize her question. I don't know if Constance had read any Socrates, but she was good with questions.

"Like it or not, Michael, you were in a position to inspire a lot of people with your music. You guys sold millions of records... you surely changed some lives with those songs, right?!"