December 1st, 2000
Michael and Mariah met with Dr. Fleischman for a private session to help deal with their own personal issues. Michael had warmed up to the therapist and he was starting to believe that Mariah was right for once.
“Alright, so this is my first session with just the two of you so I took the liberty of picking this week’s theme. I’d like for you two to address romantic relationships that you've had in the past.” Dr. Fleischman explained, peering over his glasses at them.
Michael smirked at Mariah. “Ladies first.”
Mariah glanced at Michael, a worried expression on her face. “You won't judge?”
“Do I have a reason to?” He asked.
Outside of Tommy, Michael didn't know about any of Mariah’s previous relationships, and he was curious to see what made her what she became.
“Well, I guess I'll start with my first boyfriend.” Mariah shrugged, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “His name was Bobby. I think we were freshman in high school, maybe sophomore year. I can't really remember, but I was crazy about Bobby.” She broke off laughing, shyly glancing at her husband. “Don't look at me.”
He playfully rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.”
“Anyway, so, I used to do, like, little stupid stuff like write him notes and we'd go down to the beach and...Oh! One time we went to Coney Island and he got me this bear for my birthday. I thought I was gonna be Mrs.Thiel.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“Yeah, but I was like fifteen.” She shrugged.
Dr. Fleischman nodded slowly. “And what happened between you and Bobby?”
“He broke up with me because I wouldn't sleep with him.” She rolled her eyes. “I lost a couple of guys like that actually.”
“And what made you make those decisions?” Dr. Fleischman inquired.
Mariah crossed her legs. “My sister got pregnant at fifteen, and she was a pros-” Mariah seemed to hesitate at the word. “Prostitute. Sorry. But, yeah, I didn't wanna end up like her.”
Dr. Fleischman turned to Michael. “Michael, who was your first girlfriend?”
Michael looked into Mariah's eager eyes and picked his brain for a story to tell. “Well, I dated Stephanie Mills in the seventies. She was my first real, steady girlfriend. That was a pretty good time, she was real feisty.”
He paused, trying to remember his time with Stephanie.
He laughed. “She couldn't cook though. She made rice one time, at least I think it was rice. When I say, that it was soupy, the rice was drowning.”
Mariah frowned up. “Did you eat it?”
“Yeah, I didn't wanna be mean. She tried really hard.” He explained, a smile on his face as he remembered his younger self assuring Stephanie that everything tasted just fine, despite her food being practically inedible.
His wife folded her arms. “You always talk about my food. Why didn't you say anything to her?”
He laughed. “Well she made up for it in other ways-”
“Let me find out you mentally cheating on me with Stephanie Mills.” Mariah exclaimed.
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Mentally cheating? Baby, there's no such thing.”
“Actually, there is.” Dr. Fleischman interjected.
Michael tried to ignore the doctor. “Well anyway, we ended up breaking up because of my career. I just wasn't ready to settle down and she wanted to get married. It just didn't work out.”
Dr. Fleischman jumped in again. “And would you say that you have a tendency to choose your career over your personal life?”
Mariah nodded eagerly. “Yes.”
Michael shot her a glare. “He didn't ask you.”
“But did I lie?” She asked, playfully.
“Yes.”
The pair went back and forth, sharing stories about their pasts and getting a few laughs in as well.
Soon, Dr. Fleischman looked up from his legal pad. “I think I wanna shift this conversation to more serious relationships. From what I understand, both of you were previously married correct?”
They nodded in unison.
“Okay then, Mariah, we'll start with you.”
She noticeably stiffened in her chair. “Okay.”
“So, when did you meet your first husband?” Dr. Fleischman inquired.
Mariah took a deep breath. “I met Tommy when I was seventeen. He wanted to sign me to his label and he really took me under his wing. He was really...specific about how he wanted me to be.”
“So was he more like a father figure to you then?”
Mariah nodded slowly.
“And when did he start showing interest in you?”
Michael folded his arms and looked at Mariah.
Her eyes grew distant. “I'm not really sure, I knew for a fact he had feelings when he gave me a ring for my twentieth birthday in front of his wife. That's when I knew. I felt really bad because his wife was a nice lady and I didn't see him like that, just as a father figure or a mentor.”
Dr. Fleischman looked up from his pad. “So why did you marry him?”
Mariah tucked her hair behind her ears. “I- Well-, it's...complicated. It all really started when I lost my first child. I…” She trailed off. “I felt like a failure and I just couldn't stand being around Michael. He was so supportive and it just made me feel worse so I wanted to get away, but I didn't wanna be alone, if that makes sense.”
Michael studied her with an understanding expression.
She stopped again, wiping the corner of her eye. “So I called Tommy to come and visit. We had some wine and watched a movie. Next thing I know we fell asleep and Michael came running in. That's how we broke up, but then we got back together. Tommy was pretty jealous but I was just happy to be back with Michael. But when Michael went to rehab, that's when everything changed. My sister had been to rehab and it didn't work for her so there was a part of me that felt like maybe it wouldn't work for him either, but I still had hope. Then my mom came over and she's saying all these things to me and she's telling me to marry Tommy for security-”
“So it wasn't out of love?” Michael questioned.
She shook her head. “I loved him as a friend, and I thought maybe I could fall in love with him too. That just didn't happen.”
Dr. Fleischman crossed his legs. “So what did happen?”
She sighed, twisting her wedding ring. “He got really violent a few months into the marriage after we found- after I found out I was pregnant with Michael's baby.”
She wiped her eyes again, her voice growing quieter. “He told me if I didn't get an abortion, he'd beat the baby out of me, so I went along with it because I knew either way, I wasn't going to be able to carry the baby. I didn't want her to die violently, at his hands.”
Michael winced at his wife’s painful words.
“Did he hit you often?” Dr. Fleischman asked gently.
Mariah nodded, tears quietly streaming down her cheeks. “All the time, and he'd say things, and tried to make me feel like I was crazy. I never knew what was real.”
Michael reached out and gripped her hand for support. She glanced at him gratefully.
“Was there a sexual relationship?” Dr. Fleischman pressed.
Mariah pulled back, eyes dark. “I don't wanna talk about that.”
Oh my god.
Michael frowned, squeezing her hand. He wanted her to open up more, but he didn't want to force her.
Dr. Fleischman looked between the two of them, likely thinking exactly what Michael was thinking.
“Very well then.” His eyes fixed onto Michael. “Let’s move on to Michael.”
December 10th, 2000
Mariah sat in she and Michael’s master bedroom on her laptop. Since Michael’s little Thanksgiving announcement, she'd taken any moment she had away from her husband to try and figure out what he was talking about. She started at her favorite source for all things Michael: his very own website.
She'd scrolled through different threads about Michael’s personal life, including one about their own kids.
Clank!
Mariah jolted up at the sound of glass shattering.
“Michael!” She shouted. “What's going on in there?”
“Huh?” He shouted back--though his voice didn't seem to be coming from the same direction as the shattering sound.
Mariah slammed the laptop shut and got up to go investigate the noise.
She walked past her husband, who was sitting on the couch. “Did you hear that?”
He slid his headphones back, pressing a button on his Walkman. “Hear what?”
So you heard me shouting but you didn’t hear that loud ass glass shattering…?
“Ugh.” She shook her head and continued her walk through the house.
She peeked into the kitchen and was met with a scene straight out of The Shining.
Multiple wine bottles on the ground--broken.
She glanced around and there was no one in sight, but she had an idea of who the culprits were.
“Michael!” She shouted.
A few moments later, Michael met her in the kitchen. “What happened?”
“Look!” She exclaimed, pointing at the broken bottles and spilled wine. “Your little house guests need to go.”
He chuckled. “You didn't need it anyway.”
“Michael, I'm serious.” She folded her arms. “They stay in the guest house. There's no reason for them to be in here.”
Michael smile faded. “Alright, alright.” He turned around toward the main foyer. “Star! Davellin! Gavin!”
The three children rushed into the kitchen.
Mariah glared at them on their way in.
“Which one of you did this?”
The kids each made their cases, contradicting each other in the process, much to Mariah's irritation. Gavin, in particular, looked suspicious. Mariah decided to take the chance to call his bluff--and it wasn’t long until the boy conceded.
Cough.
“Mr. Jackson, it really was an accident-” Cough. “-Sorry, I'm feeling really sick right now--from the cancer and stuff. But don’t be mad.”
Michael tilted his head to the side--clearly sympathetic to Gavin’s plight.
Mariah rolled her eyes. Really, Michael?
“I don't care how sick you're feeling. You better be glad I'm not whooping your little butt right now.” Mariah replied, sending Gavin’s face to a pout.
Gavin forced a tear out of his eye, causing Michael to send his wife a glare.
“What?” She mouthed, looking right at her husband.
“Way to be insensitive.” He mouthed back.
Tears flooded Gavin’s eyes as he tried his hardest to put on a show for empathetic Michael.
Mariah gritted her teeth, her husband gesturing for her to apologize.
“No!” She exclaimed in a harsh whisper.
Michael shook his head, reaching his arms out for the boy. “Aww Gavin, it’s cool man. You good.”
He brought the boy in for an awkward hug--almost hover-handing the young man.
Gavin gripped the man’s waist.
“I'm sorry!” He snorted out in an ugly cry.
Michael grimaced, sharing a disgusted look with his wife as Gavin’s tears wet up Michael’s shirt.
“Uhh- Yeah, you good.” Michael responded, trying to push Gavin off of him.
Gavin gripped harder. “You sure? I promise it won't happen again!”
“Yeah I'm sure. But you gotta let me go, man. You got the strength of seventeen grizzly bears.”
Mariah shook her head--he was letting the kid get away scot-free.
Gavin smiled through his tears, tilting his head up toward Michael’s face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!”
Michael nodded in discomfort.
“I love you!” The boy shouted.
Mariah scrunched her face in disgust.
“Yes, that's nice. But you do need to watch what you're doing.” Michael explained. “Okay, Gavin?”
“And stay out of this house.” Mariah added.
Michael frowned at her, Gavin choosing to ignore it.
“You're the best dad in the whole world.”
Michael pulled back, Mariah all the same.
Gavin continued.
“I'm gonna call you ‘Dad’ now.”
December 20th, 2000
Mariah was sitting in the bedroom, writing a song for her upcoming album and sipping a glass of wine. The song was almost complete and she was going to be meeting with Ja Rule to record soon.
She reached behind for her wine glass, only to find her glass was empty.
How am I supposed to write without wine?
She got up and headed towards the kitchen, passing the library on her way.
“-I don't wanna hear you talk about her anymore.”
Mariah stopped in her tracks, peeking through the doorway. She noticed Michael in the room, kneeling in front of the twins.
“But Daddy, Jelly-” Nicole was saying.
“No!” Michael was adamant. “Stop talking about her, okay?”
Noelle glanced upwards, showing her teeth. “Jellybean!”
Who is Jellybean?
“Noni, did you hear what I just said?” Michael inquired.
He didn't sound particular angry, but he was firm.
“I said bye bye.” Noelle explained.
He sighed. “No more, okay? No more talking about Jelly.”
He stood up and Mariah hurried into the kitchen, trying to make herself appear normal. She found a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.
Michael walked in and rested a hand on the small of her back. “I'll see you later. I'm gonna head to studio.”
Mariah smiled at him. “Alright, have fun.”
She watched him walk out of the door and turned to go back into the bedroom.
It was time for her to play her favorite game: Sherlock Holmes, husband detective.
December 31st, 2000
“Well that was easier than I expected.” Mariah commented, sliding an oversized t-shirt over her naked body. The two had just put Twizzie to bed after their New Year's’ Eve dinner party and were getting ready for bed themselves.
Michael, taking a break from ogling her, responded. “Probably because they wore themselves out. Did you see Lizzie tryna sing to me? She was having the time of her little life.”
Mariah giggled. “God, I wish the twins could lighten up a bit like that. With all this crazy ghost talk, I’m starting to think they need the therapy more than we do.
Michael slid laid back to the headboard, his ankles crossed on the bed. He reached into a bag in the nightstand drawer and popped a pretzel in his mouth--a yawn released at the same time.
“Yeah but, you know, try not to think about it. That’s what I do.”
Mariah laid down on her elbow--her palm propping up her chin. “It’s just hard. Having to hear them talk about Prince and our daughter. And don’t forget this other character, Jelly-”
“Don’t talk about it.” He interjected. Though his voice was soft, his eyes were distant and his tone suggested a certain finality in his words.
Mariah shot her eyes down toward his stomach--her eyes aligned with his bellybutton. “Why?”
He dusted his hands before closing the bag of pretzels. “Because I said so.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Because you what?”
He glanced at her. “You heard me.”
“Don’t get a fucking attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude. I just don’t want to talk about it. It’s bad enough we been dealing with this crap for months now, I don’t need you bringing it into the bedroom.” He retorted.
“Bringing it into the bedroom? Michael, what are you talking about? I’m just saying I don’t know what’s going on with them. I don’t know what would’ve caused them to start seeing our ghost babies. And then this other little girl--Jellybean--I don’t even know where she came from.”
Michael sighed. “Baby, I know you’re concerned but I don’t think you should be. I’m taking care of it, okay?” He reached out for her hand. “I got this, baby.”
“It doesn’t bother you that they’re seeing who they’re seeing?” She asked, innocently.
“Of course it does.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “They’re three years old. Prince is probably coming to them because they’re finally old enough to understand him--same with Monroe. Rossie’s probably just coming around because Prince and Monroe are.”
Mariah jerked back.
Rossie?
“Baby, who is Rossie?” She questioned.
Michael looked up in thought. “Wait, what did I say?”
Mariah frowned. Really, dude?
“Baby, I’m serious! I don’t remember. I’m tired.” He explained.
“Ya said ‘Rossie’s probably just coming around because of Prince and Roe’.”
Michael slowly nodded. He squinted his eyes, skeptically. “You sure I said that?”
Mariah reached back and popped him with her pillow.
“Michael!” She shouted, irritated with his evasion. “Who is Rossie? I’ve never heard the twins even say that before.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s cool.”
Boy if you don’t-
“Michael...stop tryna be funny all the damn time.”
“I’m not.” He responded in a heightened tone. He rose from the headboard and brought his legs up so that he sat cross-legged.
“Can you just stop being evasive? You’re making me suspicious.”
Michael took a pretzel into both of his hands. The size comparison evoking a weird maternal feeling in Mariah.
Michael lowered his voice into a whisper.
“Jellybean.”
Mariah raised an eyebrow. “Jellybean’s not...She’s not Monroe?”
He shook his head, still mumbling. “Why would that make sense, Mariah?”
“I- I don’t know? Sometimes I think they’re different. But, then you start talking about how you love her and that ‘daddy loves you’ and it’s just like...we only have one daughter who passed.”
He nodded his head emphatically--a slow and sweeping gesture.
“You only have one daughter who passed.”
Mariah instinctively grabbed her wrist for comfort.
“Who is she.” Mariah questioned, though it was more of a command. “Rossie? Jellybean? I want to know, Michael.”
He shot humiliated eyes at his wife. It was almost as if he was looking to her to answer her own question. When he didn’t get what he presumably wanted, he just came right out and said it.
“My daughter-”
Mariah felt a weightlessness in the pit of her stomach, deciding to cut Michael off before he could finish. “Michael, please don’t tell me you’ve been with someone else- I really can’t- I couldn’t handle- After what we’ve been through and therapy and talking all that out-”
“Mariah, she’s fifteen.”
Mariah pulled back. “What?!”
Michael sucked in a deep breath.
“I mean- you’re not with another woman but...you have a teenager...”
He stared out in blank space.
Mariah felt her joints weaken at the thought of her husband fathering a child half her age.
Michael licked his lips, refocusing his eyes on his wife. “I called her Jellybean when her mommy was pregnant with her.”
Mariah nodded. “But her name is Rossie-”
“Rosslyn.”
Mariah furrowed her eyebrows, proceeding to over enunciate the girl’s name. “Rawz-lynn.”
He nodded along, adding, “Rosslyn-Michael.”
“Is Michael her middle name?”
Michael shook his head like a toddler in trouble. “Her first name.”
Confused, Mariah clarified. “Rosslyn-Michael is one name?”
“Yes.”
That’s not hood at all… She thought.
“So she doesn’t have a middle name?” Mariah asked.
“Katherine.”
“That’s Lizzie’s middle name.” Mariah exclaimed.
“Mhm. Just like her big sister.”
Mariah cringed at him. She wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of her children having a much older sister.
She began saying the name over and over again aloud--trying to make the arrogance of it rest well with her.
Michael chewed his lips, intently watching her.
She rehearsed the name a few times, searching for something in the name.
“Wait--who’s her mother? Because if it’s- Michael don’t tell me it’s-”
Michael shot his eyes down, sinking into the sheets to hide his face.
“You named my baby after your ex’s kid?!”