"Ria, you're blocking the light!" Michael snickers, a small camera lens pressed against his left eye, his other eye squinting as he uses both hands to aim it at various things about the room.
"Me? Ya mudda blockin the light.." Maria coos down at the six month baby in her arms.
Michael, being the adoring father and husband, can't help but to capture these moments. His most sacred possessions, visually immortalised on a little VCR tape.
The camera in Michaels hands, zooms in on a brand new baby cradle, a present from Elizabeth Taylor. The wrapping tissue and pink ribbon still scrunched up on the deep red carpet next to their King Size bed.
The shot goes in and out of focus, as Michaels long fingers toy with the dials on the side of the camera.
His mouth was open slightly, and he was breathing heavily, the camera was picking it up.
He zoomed out again, and a picture of the wider room became clear. The huge wall length curtains were closed, and there was a cozy feel to the shot.
Maria could be heard muttering old West Indian lullaby's to the baby, and whispers of love.
"Christmas. Nineteen-ninety two. Neverland," Michael giggled again, panning the camera back to his wife, who was fluttering a plushy Santa Claus above the baby's face. The baby girl looked up with sparkly eyes, grinning slowly, as if she knew that world peace was on the horizon, "Maria.. you look so gorgeous.. you and our baby.." Michael sounded lovestruck, completely dizzy with the feeling of being needed.
This love was irreplaceable.
Maria looked up from her daughters eyes into the camera and grinned. Her hair was in tight, bouncy curls, and half of it was clasped with a scrunchy on top of her head.
A few loose curls were swinging in her gleaming brown eyes, and her bare face. She usually wouldn't be caught dead without makeup. But she was with a man who loved the feel of her clean, bare skin, and her baby.
Maria's white teeth picked up true to whiteness on the lens, and she fluttered her lashes, her bright red Christmas sweater offsetting the darkness in the room.
Her wedding ring, and engagement ring was causing a hazy glare too.
She tapped her feet, and bit her lip nervously, as Michael repeatedly zoomed in and out of her lips, her eyes, her sweater, her ring, and their beautiful baby girl.
"Michael," Maria scoffed, "We need to name her, you know.." she giggled, covering her face partially with her free hand.
Michael breathed in deeply, and began to film the socked, tiny feet of his new baby.
"You know what," he laughed, and it was clear though he wasn't in shot, he was rolling his eyes, "I told you Katherine.. and you said no.." he chuckled softly, as he panned back to his wife's dead panned face.
"No, my mother would never let it go," She sucked her teeth, making a face at the camera, one Michael had taught her to do, making them both giggle, "And I want it to be more creative.."
"Is Katherine too bland for you?" Michael scoffed, faux-offended.
"No, Michael. But it's not our daughters name. It's your mothers.." Maria glared at the camera with a smile, as the little girl in her arms began to get restless, and tiny gurgles turned into hiccups of tears.
"Ooh!" Maria sighed, lifting up the baby under its armpits, and nuzzling her nose against hers, "Don't cry lil girl!" She cooed softly, her thick Bajan accent making Michaels lips curl at the corners.
Hearing her say certain words, her little phrases of wisdom, made him smile.
"Don't cry baby," Michael whispered, "Its Christmas.." he grinned, continuing to film, as the baby settled down.
"Sing to her" Maria tilted her head away from the child to shoot a look at Michael.
He snickered behind the lens, "Sing what? What do you wanna hear, girl?" Michael asked softly, moving closer, so he could sit at the feet of his wife on the carpet.
Michael was filming upward now, as Maria sat on the bed with the baby.
"Michael, I'm gonna feed her. And you're gonna sing whilst I do it.." Maria stated matter of factly, pulling up her Christmas sweater, as Michael diverted the camera quickly back to the new baby cradle.
"I don't know what to sing.." he pondered absentmindedly, filming around the room, including his wife's messy vanity table, an expensive Christian Dior dress draped over the chair from last night, "Your vanity is a mess.." he sighed, zooming in on the makeup on the table, alongside hair products.
"Have you seen your study?" She quirked back, chuckling.
Michael kept the camera on the rest of the room whilst his wife fed their child.
"As much as I would love to film my wife.. nurturing our child-" Michael was cut off by a hard shoulder nudge from Maria, as they both giggled, the camera jogging with the movement, "She won't let me. So I'll film the room. And give her.. privacy.. I guess.." he breathed, panning the camera over a chair by the bed. A red shirt draped on it.
"Hear that, sweetie? Daddy is giving us privacy.." Maria cooed sarcastically.
Michael gave a short laugh, and sighed, "What shall I sing?" He breathed.
"You know what? Don't sing at all. She's over you.." Maria laughed. The baby was done crying and was feeding hungrily.
"You are my sunshine!-"
"No!"
"-my only sunshine! You make me ha-ppy!-"
"Michael.."
"-when skies are grey! You'll never know dear!-" Michael exaggerated "dear" sarcastically, which made Maria snicker, shaking her head down at their baby.
"Michael, enough of that shit song!" She giggled, drawing a gasp of horror from Michael.
"So. You're just gonna drop curse words on our daughter. Whilst feeding her? Did I hear correctly?" He began to snigger, as Maria hit him over the shoulder again.
Their laughter faded, as did the picture on the tape, as those flickers of grey flicked up the screen, signalling the VCR was damaged, irreparably.
