Michael Jackson Imagines and Short Stories

I Remember

I Remember: 3

I remembered that from what he said last night. To be honest, I was very excited to see where this place was, although I tried to suppress it somewhat. I smiled, and gave him my attention. He smirked at me, and then turned away, beginning to take out some breakfast items. He didn't say another word for some time, so I asked,

"Well, what is this place?" At that he slowly turned around, the smirk returning to his lips,

"I thought that you would never ask...literally."

"Well...?"

"It's...a surprise! I'm not telling you, and don't try guessing because I will not confirm or deny." He said, pointing his fork at me.

I loved this side of my father. He was always so easy going and goofy, but my favorite part was that he was full of surprises and mystery. He was my personal puzzle to which the pieces never quite fit together. I remember one time he came downstairs, and then told us to go to the car. We all got in, and we arrived at LAX. He had us board a plane, and in 6 hours, we were in Hawaii. I asked him why he kept it a secret and he told me that he had just decided to take us on vacation that morning. Spontaneity. It always enthralls me, and it is one of the reasons that he won me over so quickly, aside from my being a super fan of his before meeting him.

I asked if I should pack anything, but he told me to just get ready. I came back down when I was dressed, and my dad was waiting for me by the door. He had on a mask for disguise, but I could see right through it. He had the keys in one hand, and when he saw me, he reached for my hand with the other. He kissed my palm, the way he and my mom always did, and then we walked outside hand in hand. We got in this busted up white van, and headed down the lane.

I remember his smile that day. It never left his face. I caught him looking at me a few times with that silly smile. He told me,

"I love you so much." I became embarrassed and turned away, but he grabbed my hand and held it tightly. Just being with him, my hold on my cold front began to melt away, and before I could stop it, I said,

"I love you too." The air in the car seemed to freeze. When I finally looked over, he was crying. I had never said it to any of them. I didn't want to say something that I didn't mean, and I didn't want to be rejected. He wiped his face, and then smiled brilliantly at me and kept on driving. After about an hour, he finally said,

"We're here."