Remember the Time

Chapter 20

February 16th, 1997

It was a few hours after Liz's birthday gala and Mariah was at the condo awaiting Michael's return. He had stayed a little while after with Elizabeth to help her prepare for her upcoming surgery to remove a benign brain tumor.

Mariah sipped a glass of Merlot while she drew a bath. She heard the lock on the door turn.

"Mariah!" Michael called out. "Baby, where are you?"

"I'm in the bathroom." She called back as she stepped in the tub.

He slipped off his penny loafers and pulled his hair back into a ponytail, stripping down to his t-shirt and briefs. He went into the bathroom and saw his gorgeous wife relaxing with her eyes closed and her head tilted back. He walked over to her and snuck a kiss.

"I hope you wiped that lipstick off before you kissed me." She said.

He looked down at her, face contorted in confusion. "What?"

She cracked open one eye. "That hair and makeup today...I never wanna see that shit again."

He took a step back. "What do you mean?"

She sat up. "Listen, I'm telling you this because I love you...you looked like a woman."

He froze, looking down at his feet. Michael had always been insecure about the way he looked. "Well, I didn't ask to look like this."

"It's not your face, baby. You look fine without all of that crap on your face, and even with the makeup you look fine. I just feel like tonight, whatever she did was too much." She explained. Seeing the hurt wash over his face, she gestured to him. "Come get in with me."

Michael looked up from his feet and reluctantly pulled off his clothes and revealed his piebald skin.

Mariah looked him up and down, a smile forming on her face. "There's my sexy Leopard."

He looked away, blushing. "Stop it."

"How can I stop when you standing up there looking so damn good?" She said, biting her lip.

Michael smirked as he got in the tub behind her, but he couldn't shake the hurt he felt over her comments.

February 17th, 1997

Michael was sitting on the couch working on his song Morphine, while Mariah was on the other side of the room trying to hang up their wedding portrait. The Zimbabwean artist who translated their wedding pictures into paintings mailed two extra large portraits on canvas to Neverland, while the prints were mailed to the same destination from a decorative print house in British Columbia. The prints had finally come in the day prior so Michael sent Bill to pick them up. He couldn't risk having Mariah see Pat just yet.

"So, for the bridge, instead of having all that harsh music it gets softer, like piano." Michael explained.

Mariah nodded absently, she was focused on adjusting the picture frame. "Oh..that sounds pretty."

"Mariah?" Silence. He turned around. "Mariah!"

"Huh? Wha?"

"Are you listening to me?" He inquired.

She nodded. "Yeah, I heard everything you just said."

"What was the last thing I said?"

She shrugged. "Something about somebody's dog being a bitch."

"That's not what I said...like at all." Michael clicked his tongue. "Man, you're not even listening."

"Like you ever listen to me. I'm trying to make this frame straight." She said, carefully shifting the painting to the left before it unhooked from the wall. "Damn it."