You Give Me Fever || Michael Jackson

Chapter 53: Catch Up

One week later

Michael's POV

Well, today I have to go grocery shopping for me, Becky and Miracle.

Gosh, I'm so in love. Becky is the girl of my dreams, and Miracle is an angel sent from heaven, I swear by it. I'm the luckiest man in the world, to have those two: the two most important girls in my life.

Since Miracle was born, I've had to go shopping a little more often, because of the constant need to stock up on baby milk. The little sweetie only likes a certain brand, so I have to get it at least twice a week for her.

Becky has tried breastfeeding, but it just hasn't worked out. So... store-bought milk it is.

I park the car in the car park of the grocery store, and get out. I lock my car, before heading towards the store, and I take a basket from outside the doors.

I begin my little browsing session, scanning for food for me and Becky, as well as the all-important milk for Miracle.

Gosh, I could think of my girls all day long, no bother. But I've had a year and a half to think of Becky everywhere I go, so my mind mostly wanders to Miracle when I'm out and about now.

Her gorgeous eyes, the little tiny hairs on her adorable little head, her light, soft skin and her tiny hands and feet - everything about my daughter is perfect.

Oh, how strange it is to call someone my daughter! It's something I never thought would happen.

Doctor Michael Jackson, who has a low sperm count, being the biological father to a beautiful, healthy daughter. Gosh, what an amazing thought!

My thoughts are shattered when I accidentally bump into someone at the frozen food section, and I brush myself down and turn to the woman.

"I'm so sorry!" we apologise at the same time.

"No, it was my fault. Mind was elsewhere," I add with a laugh.

"Really, it's no bother," the woman chuckles.

There's something about her that seems familiar to me.

"Uh, I'm sorry if I'm wrong, but don't I know you from somewhere?" I ask politely.

"Um... I don't think you do," she replies with a smile.

"No, I'm pretty sure I recognise you," I assert.

"Maybe you have the wrong woman," she suggests with a small grin of politeness. "Unless you know anyone called Virginia Knowles."

Virginia Knowles! The name is instantly recognisable to me!

"You don't remember me, Virginia?" I ask. "M-Michael Jackson?"

She takes a couple seconds to process my name, and when she does, her eyes widen in shock. "Michael? Really? Gosh, you've changed!"

"Yeah, I know..."

"I mean, you used to be black!"

"Uh... I got Vitiligo. I'm pretty sure you knew that, though."

"I'm sorry, that came across rude. Let me rephrase: You... you've changed. Matured more since I last saw you."

"Well, last time you saw me was 1977, Virginia," I say softly. "Over fifteen years ago."

"Yes," she mutters. "When all we did was spend time together."

"Those were interesting days in high school," I add. "Very interesting."