It's May of 1980, and I am 18 years old. I'm about to leave for university this morning, and have my lunch and books packed. Dad, however, has other plans.
"Nicole, stay here for another ten minutes. I'm expecting visitors," he's pleading, glancing at the clock.
"I can't! I need to go to school now." I stamp my foot with impatience as I wait for our driver to hurry up.
It's 7:05, and I need time to hang out at the library and borrow books.
The doorbell rings. I run across the foyer to get it.
"Hello," I say, then my breath stops. Four men are standing on the steps, in white button-down shirts and black pants.
"Hello, sweetheart, is your father here?" the older man says. I recognize him: Joseph Jackson. The father of the Jackson Five.
"Yes, he's—"
Dad interrupts me. "Joseph, Joseph, welcome! Sorry, my daughter's just running late for school, please come in." He pushes me aside as our guests enter the foyer.
"Woah, that's beautiful," Marlon Jackson says, staring at our new chandelier.
"Would you like to have any coffee? Tea?" Dad turns to me. "Nicole, be nice and prepare something."
I put my bag down, knowing I've been trapped, and head to the kitchen. It only takes about ten minutes to get the coffee machine working, and donuts were already warmed in the oven.
"Please, sit down," I say, pressing the red buttons to get the coffee roasting. I set the food out on the table.
"I'm so glad you all could make it," Dad begins, as they all sit down, "it's been so long."
"I'm sorry we couldn't schedule earlier this month. My boys needed rest after performing so much," Joseph says, taking a bite of donut.
I set out the coffee and take a seat, as well, having no choice but to wait for my ride, whenever it happens to come by.
"Are you going to college now?" Jackie Jackson asks next to me.
"Yeah, I'm studying economics and Latin," I respond.
"You've grown up so much, I remember you from ten years ago."
I smile. "Yeah, you haven't changed, though."
I tuck my long, dark brown hair behind my ear and notice Michael Jackson lounging in his seat. He's already finished his coffee, so I decide to make some more.
"Too many albums have already been produced for us to make a new one. I say wait a while," Dad goes on. I pour Michael some more coffee.
"Thanks," he mutters.
"No problemo."
Michael is looking at me as I'm sitting down. I avert my eyes and drum my fingers on the table.
Dad and Joseph drone on and on so I'm kind of just zoning out now. I look up occasionally, though, and see Michael glancing at me.
I have no idea what he's looking at but I'm too relaxed to say a word. Finally, my driver shows up.
"Nicole, come on," Paul says, sticking his head into the kitchen. I get up to leave and say good-bye to everyone.
I walk out the kitchen door, but look back before I go. Michael's seated there, just as before, except smiling at me this time.
I look away and walk off.