Arcana | 21 – The Judgment

Arcanum 21 – The Judgment

Judgment frequently recalls the circumstances of how the person receiving the reading experienced his or her birth. This includes all the possible variations of a problematic labor, a disturbed gestation, or a difficult situation surrounding the actual moment of birth that could have formed an obstacle. The person consulting will then live, to one degree or another, consciously or not, as an individual who was not wanted, whose birth was not intended. The neurosis of failure, despair, or incomprehensible difficulties will ceaselessly tug this individual to the bottom, toward the floor of the tomb from which he or she has been summoned to emerge. The meaning of this Arcanum consists of discovering, through therapeutic work or other means, that every individual being that is born is absolutely wanted by the deity (or the universe) that allowed him or her to be engendered. The difficulties the individual will feel around the desire to live, or artistic or professional vocation, are so many forms of resistance to his or her deep nature, to the level of consciousness he or she (and all of us) can offer the angel. There is no human judgment that holds any value here.
For a couple, this card is urging them to undertake a shared task, a real or symbolic child, suggesting that the meaning of the male/female union is to produce a third element bathed in love and awareness. The play of looks is interesting: the woman is looking at the man and/or the child, she represents human love and love of the work; while the man, his eyes lifted toward heaven, embodies divine and cosmic love. The angel is gazing directly at us.
Judgment finally refers to the emergence of a desire, a vocation, a call to some kind of order. This is a card of ecstasy, profound rebirth, and prayer immediately granted, where energies are simultaneously rising from Earth to Heaven while descending in the opposite direction. We should recognize in this card the last step before the total realization of The World.

Los Angeles, California – June 1990

Lisa kept her eyes closed as her hands pressed over the headphones that she was wearing, shutting everything out except for the music. She had to admit, what at first was immensely challenging to convey had, all of a sudden, become as natural as breathing. The trick was to keep the rest of the world – and anyone in it, none excluded – outside. She didn’t need to hear, see or feel the presence of anybody and anything if she wanted to sing properly.

The entire process felt laborious and tricky most of the time. Creating an album from scratch was definitely not just about artistry and inspiration, but also about so much practical work. At times boring, too. Hours over hours spent in the studio reviewing lyrics, finding the right delivery, the proper sound. Mixing, re-listening and then doing it all over again. It was painstaking, excruciating and beautiful at the same time.

She had finally come to realize why Michael would often spend entire nights just sitting at the mixing board. He just could not avoid it and neither could she – now that she was caught in the same conundrum.

It was weird how, after experiencing a bit of writer’s block, the moment she had really put the pen down and started writing the lyrics for her songs they had come out so naturally. As if they had been there all along, hidden somewhere inside of her. Songs about love, about pain, about loss, about fear, about doubts. Songs that narrated and relived her entire existence from the passing of her father to the meeting with the only other man that would end up changing her life. Songs that were her.

She only had a vague idea of the musical specifics of the tracks, back then. Still, she recognized their flavor and style and it was weird how automatically it had steered toward some kind of blues/Americana kind of sound. It had surprised her – but not Michael. He had been adamant in telling her that he thought she shouldn’t listen to any PR person, that she shouldn’t let anyone tell her what sound and genre better fitted her. The choice of who she wanted to be had to be Lisa’s and Lisa’s alone.

And what was she supposed to do but listen to her genius husband, when it came to art? She had ended up putting aside the idea of becoming some sort of pop-rock singer, going straight back to her roots. And that had included a trip to Tennessee, which she had made alone. Much to Michael’s chagrin, as predictably, but she had to find what she was looking for on her own terms.

A week later, she was back. Having missed Michael and the baby like crazy, but replenished and much more confident. She knew what she had to do.

The first thing she had done had been to hug and spend hours with Riley, of course. And then it had been about spending time in bed with Michael – for hours on end, just rediscovering his body and relishing in his love and longing. It had been one of those rare occasions when, afterward, he was so spent and worked over that he had fallen asleep right away, giving Lisa the time to just grab her pen and her notebook, and write.

Her very first lyrics.

Since that night, she had been pretty much unable to stop. She had written and perfected song after song until they had become quite a bunch. Some were good, some bad, others somewhere in between. And then it had come the time to lock herself into the studio and sing. Funny how Michael was still doing the exact same thing for his own new record.

However, compared to the past her situation was much more manageable and besides, Lisa’s and Michael’s recording habits were diametrically opposite. That was why he had been recording for months now and wasn’t planning on releasing anything for another year and a half, while she was almost done in the studio after a little more than sixteen weeks.

The music slowly faded away and Lisa finally opened her eyes. They slowly focused on T-Bone, who was staring back at her from behind the glass panel with a grin on his face. She was so glad to have him here. She had loved his recent work on Roy Orbison’s Greatest Hits and had hoped he could be interested in her songs. But at the same time, she hadn’t really found the courage to reach out to him until Michael had, as usual, decided that he would go for it without even telling her.

And just as it usually happened when Mike waved his weight around, the result had been quick and effective.

T-Bone had listened to what Lisa still thought were pretty crappy demo tracks and had immediately expressed his intention to work with her. That day, after getting the call, Michael had sauntered into the room looking like a cat that had just devoured the canary. Then, almost in a dramatic fashion, he had delivered the news.

Lisa’s reaction had been exactly what he had been expecting. No news on that front, either.

She and Michael had engaged in one of their usual fights about him meddling with her shit without even granting her the courtesy of engaging her. Or at least letting her know first. Just like always, the concoction of feelings she had experienced was varied. It ranged from intense irritation at him being his usual stubborn self to gratitude for sharing her life with such a thoughtful – albeit obnoxious – husband. And of course, the inevitable soul-crushing love.

It was not in the least surprising that their fight had eventually exploded in a magnificent, passionate, sweaty lovemaking session that had lasted for hours and had left them both breathless and boneless. Some things just never changed.

“So…” Michael had murmured when he had finally been able to catch his breath. “Are you happy I reached out to Mr. Burnett?”

He had rolled over and kissed her back, looking very pleased with himself. His wet hair had tickled her skin and his sweaty chest had adhered to her back, risking to make her engines roar again in no time. Lisa had scoffed.

“Yes.”

“Then say it, woman!”

She had to laugh.

“I just did!”

“Say it better!”

Lisa had relaxed into the pillow.

“I am happy you reached out to T-Bone, Michael. And that he said yes. I’m happy even though you’re an insufferabl-”

Michael had flipped her over and kissed her, effectively managing to shut her up. As a matter of fact, he had kissed her until Lisa pretty much forgot what she was going to say. Her arms had closed around his neck as she too rolled over fully and they engaged in several uninterrupted minutes of making up.

When they had finally found the energy to pull back and had gazed into each other eyes, Michael was smiling.

“You were saying?”

Lisa’s hand had come up and had touched his face. She had just taken a moment to look at him. To truly look at him.

“Nothing,” she had murmured eventually. “Just that I love you… So much.”

“I love you too, Lise. Damn, I love you.”

“OK, but just admit it. You pick fights with me on purpose.” Lisa had grabbed his chin and kissed him again.

Michael had laughed.

“Yeah… Well, maybe a tiny bit. But only because I love baiting you and-”

Lisa had gasped, covering his mouth.

“You’re such a… dick!”

He had burst out laughing again, coming to rest on top of her body fully. Kissing her some more.

“…And let me tell you… I just do it because I love making up with you even more…”

Entangling her fingers in his hair, she had brought his mouth back down, to her lips. What else could she do? This was hopeless. And glorious.

It had been one of those long afternoons – also one of the rare ones – when they finally had the chance to spend some quality time alone, as a couple, because little Riley was with Katherine, at Hayvenhurst. Lisa loved those moments, despite always missing her baby like crazy. She understood how important it was for parents – even young ones – not to be swept away by the avalanche of their new duties and commitments. How crucial it was that they always remembered that they were also partners, confidants, lovers. And Michael too realized the value of those rare moments of peaceful, passionate solitude, so to say.

Other than that, he and Lisa had managed to find some much-needed balance in their relationship. With time, patience and commitment. And most of all, with love – that never lacked among them. Love had never been a problem and now that a couple of years or so had passed, Lisa knew that she had probably started to fall in love with Michael right away. Maybe even the moment they had first started to talk, at that old fair. Even before she actually saw his face and knew his real name, because her heart knew who he was and had recognized its soulmate.

After all, that old hand reader hadn’t been wrong. What was her name again? Madam LeFleur, something along those lines? Lisa didn’t remember, but she recalled exactly what she had said about that man that Lisa hadn’t met yet. Not again, as an adult, at least.

“These hands will soon stop feeling empty. They will be held by much bigger, stronger hands. Male hands. And you… you’ll hold onto those hands, too.”

Lisa remembered asking Madame if she already knew the man her prophecy referred to. The lady had said no, but also that Lisa would soon meet him. And she had also added something else.

“He’s tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes will make you bleed, but not always in a bad way. Quite the opposite. You’re so faithful to your love… once you love for real. The things this man will make you feel… it’s not something you have ever experienced before. You’re so young, girl. But you will soon become a woman… thanks to him. With him. You will change each other forever.”

And now, in retrospect, Lisa knew that Madame LeFleur had been right. Michael was indeed tall, dark, and handsome beyond imagination. And his eyes could make Lisa bleed in the most painful – but also wonderful – way.

About change… well, that was an ongoing process and she had understood that the river would always, always flow. It happened regardless of how much opposition those caught among the waves, risking to drown, made. The best thing anyone could do, when it came to change, was to just go with the flow and let everything unfold and unravel naturally. Only that would allow rebirth. Only change would allow absolution, intended as forgiveness of others just as much as themselves.

“Lisa? Are you OK?”

Lisa put her headphones down and took a deep breath.

“Yes, T-Bone. I’m fine. How was it?”

Burnett leaned back into his comfortable chair, his arms on the armrests for a moment.

“I think it was great. Wanna come out for a minute? I want you to listen to this final take. I think we nailed it.”

Nodding, Lisa pushed the heavy door of the recording studio open and was greeted by T-Bone’s huge smile. He genuinely seemed satisfied with the outcome, but she was not sure that she would feel the same once she listened to that track. She still struggled a bit when it came to really, really liking her own voice.

Michael, on the other hand, loved it. He had been adamant: he adored her low, husky tone and thought it would fit just perfect in some bluesy tracks. He would always tell her that her potential was immense and that, with time and training, she would be able to deliver anything she wanted in a way that she now thought was unfathomable.

“Sit… Check this out.”

Without a word, Lisa sat down on the plush office chair next to T-Bone.

Static. Silence. Then the music came at her like a hurricane.

Her very personal version, her very own interpretation of ‘Dirty Laundry’ started to play. The music filled the perfect acoustic of the room with razor-like precision and Lisa just leaned back into the armchair, almost sinking into it. And feeling more than amazed as the seconds progressed.

This was actually… pretty good! Certainly way better than she had imagined!

Burnett glanced at her with a smirk, tapping his fingers on the mixing board, and then raised his eyebrows, as if to say: “See? I told you so.”

Lisa smiled, shaking her head. There was just something so comforting about working with him. He had quickly become more than a producer to her. His sorta-kinda fatherly attitude toward her art – and album – had not only helped her deliver way more and way better than she expected, but also find her groove. A groove that was just hers and she didn’t even think she had.

During those many long nights at the studio, she and T-Bone had spoken plenty – as if he was also some sort of a mentor, a counselor to her. One particular night, after singing one of her father’s songs, Lisa had even broken down crying. It was the first time, and the experience had been beyond overwhelming.

When she finally calmed down, she and Joseph – she loved calling him by his name – had shared a cup of coffee, quietly. He had spoken up after several minutes of comfortable silence.

“You see, Lisa… I don’t know if I ever told you, but when Michael called me, he didn’t make me feel like he was pushing me… or cornering me, at all. He was totally not trying to browbeat me into producing you, which wouldn’t have worked anyway because that’s just not how I roll. But anyway… Not for a minute I thought I would end up saying yes just because, you know… just ‘cause he is who he is. He genuinely thought that you had the talent to work with what he felt was a great producer… Not that I think that I deserve that title, but still…”

“You do, Joe… You really do…” Lisa had chimed in, looking up at him from behind the brim of her cup.

Burnett had smiled, shrugging.

“Well, but anyway… I asked him, flat-out, why he simply couldn’t be the one working with you. Producing you or whatever. I mean, the man is beyond amazing when it comes to music, and surely he must know his wife, right?”

“Right…”

Lisa’s eyes had stared into space for a moment. Yeah, Michael was both those things. The musical genius and a man who knew his wife very well. Sometimes, even more than she knew herself. And she… well, she knew him, intimately, and understood why Michael had never really offered to produce her album in the first place.

“What did he say to convince you, then…”

She kept sipping her coffee and made sure that her voice sounded even.

“Your songs convinced me! But wait, let me take a step back, first. About producing you… Michael said that it would have been too overwhelming for him. Way more than making his own music…” T-Bone shrugged again, vaguely. “I could see his point, and I thought it was cute. I mean, it was pretty clear that he was very much invested in your project, but he never sounded pushy, you know…”

He took a deep breath and stared at her.

“What I mean to say, Lisa, is that I am here because I wanna be. And because Michael was right. Your talent deserves the best. Not because you’re a Presley but because you’re you. You gotta understand… When I heard your songs… I heard you telling the truth, not jiving. Regardless of what crazy roads you been down… You’re right there. In that music. In each and every single one of those songs. What I’m trying to do, here, is just help you find a groove that’s always been there somewhere.”

Lisa’s eyes had welled up.

“Oh, come on now! Don’t make me cry, man!”

T-Bone had just laughed in return.

“I’m not trying to, I swear! But that husband of yours…” He had smacked his lips, as if he needed to downplay the concept a little bit, to make it less intense. Less overwhelming and more casual. “…He adores you. He really does. And I’m glad he called me and not some other producer.”

“Me too… I could have strangled him when he told me, but he was right…”

“I know! Oh, and you wanna know something else? When I picked up the phone and he said who he was, I swear I was gonna hang up.”

“Why?”

“Because he definitely didn’t sound like I thought he would, so I said to myself: well, great. This ain’t him. This is an impersonator and not even a good one at that!”

Lisa giggled.

“Because of his, uh… deep-”

“Because of that deep voice that he has, yeah.”

“Right… I know.”

Later that night, Burnett was gone and Lisa was still holed up in the studio. Just tweaking little details here and there, trying some new things and experimenting with sounds just a tiny bit, building layer after layer of something that had been swirling in her mind for the past few days.

It was almost done. She only had to make up her mind and decide how her first album would be titled. When she was a kid and would dream about being a worldwide famous singer, she always imagined she would have everything under control. That she would know all the answers, always. But the truth was that, although the songs had pretty much created themselves, the title was still nothing but a haze in her mind. Something that she could not grasp.

Stretching her sore back, she ran her hands over her face and yawned. She was beyond exhausted. The only reason she was not home yet was that her mother had already called, letting her know that Riley was fine, that she had played all afternoon and that she had eaten all her baby food. Apparently, the little one had appreciated her time with grandma.

The naivety!

Lisa had to admit, even though her relationship with Priscilla would probably never be what she had hoped it could be, that at least they were now civil to each other. Hell, on those rare occasions when Priscilla and Michael crossed paths, she even managed to be semi-polite to him! Never warm, of course, but at least she was no longer openly hostile. She seemed more like… deflated. And at times as if she had just sucked a lemon while feeling dejected.

And so when a couple of hours earlier her mother had called, sounding perfectly peaceful over the phone, Lisa had wondered if Michael had been home at all that day. She was not 100% sure that he was entirely on board with the idea of Priscilla babysitting his daughter and Mother seemed more than fine. Which was weird.

“Hey, is Michael still at the studio?”

Priscilla had sounded completely casual and random in her answer.

“I don’t know where your husband spent his day.”

Lisa had ignored the subtle jab.

“No, I mean – is he there or not?”

“Oh! Yes, uh… he’s here. I mean, not here, here. He’s upstairs. He came back about a couple of hours ago and now he’s putting Ri back to sleep in her crib…” A small pause. “…Even though I told him that I could take care of her just fine. I have way more experience as a parent than he does, that’s for sure.”

Lisa had rolled her eyes.

“Is everything OK then?”

“What do you mean, Lisa Marie?”

“Between you and Mike.”

A quick, humorless laugh.

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course.” Lisa heard her mother take a deep breath. “He is… a very polite man.”

Lisa was sure that Priscilla would have preferred to walk on a bed of nails instead of admitting that Michael was indeed a gentleman. But she had made it. Somehow.

Well… That was still better than nothing. It had only taken over a year after all. And so, since both her mother and her husband were taking care of the baby, Lisa had allowed herself to spend just a little more time at the studio than initially planned.

It was such a weird feeling. There was a part of her that couldn’t wait to be back home, just to enjoy the luxury of watching Riley sleep, of immersing herself in the pure perfection that her child was. She missed the baby every time she was not around, and she also missed Michael. Lately, they both had been quite busy and the only thing she remembered doing with him for the past two or three weeks, was just falling asleep snuggled close to his body.

At the same time, she now recognized the urge that at times kept Michael working as if nothing else existed. When he had first started recording his new album, she had wondered if he stayed away from the house because he didn’t want to be with her that much anymore. However, every time he would come back, his words and actions assured her that he loved her, no doubt. That he wanted her around, longed for her.

So what was it?

Well… now she knew. It was the fever. It was the power of true vocations. It was about following a dream, chasing it, grasping it, turning it into something concrete. Lisa knew because she had very recently started to experience it firsthand. The moment she had managed to put her regret over past mistakes into her music, she had been able to see those regrets under a new light: they were due to past ignorance. Whereas her soul had always known which direction she should have taken, she had allowed her inexperience to guide her steps. Wise decisions had started to come naturally only the very moment she had willingly decided to rise up and put joy at the center of her life. No longer fear, but joy.

It was only then that every single promise that she and Michael had made to each other – and possibly themselves – had started almost to fulfill itself.

The phone rang and Lisa about jumped out of the chair. Glancing at the clock, she noticed that it was a bit past eleven.

“Goddammit…” She fumbled with the receiver. “Hello?”

“Good evening, Miss Lisa. It’s the founder of your record label speaking.”

“Oh, good evening, sir. Anything I can do to help?”

“Yes, well, you could start by opening the door, ma’am. You’re locked in the studio and I can’t get in.”

Lisa hung up. Smiling, she stood up and walked over to the entrance of the studio, grabbing some Gatorade from a table and gulping it down. God, she realized that she was beyond thirsty! And starving, too!

Unlocking the door and finally opening it, she found herself face to face with a set of big, dark eyes.

“Hello, miss.”

“Hello, sir.”

“Did you just hang up on me?”

“Yes, but I was just because I was following your orders, boss.”

The man smiled and showed her a brown paper bag.

“I figured you must be hungry… So I brought some sandwiches.” He then showed her the carton box that he was holding with his other hand. “…And some beer.”

“I knew I had chosen you for a reason!” Lisa immediately took the box of beers from his hand and he laughed, stepping into the studio.

“Bull! I almost had to twist your arm!”

He closed the door behind his back and put the box on the table nearby.

“So, Mrs. Presley…”

“Presley-Jackson, if you don’t mind…” Staring at him, she uncapped a beer bottle and took a long sip. All the while, she leaned against the table.

Michael grinned, mirroring her actions and leaning back against the closed door.

“I’m so sorry… Sometimes I forget that you’re married. And I forget that I’m just the guy whose record company you’ve signed for…”

“Do you, now…”

Another sip while she glanced up at him from below her long eyelashes.

“I do. And that happens because I would love to ask you out sometimes.”

“Well, sir… I am sorry, but my husband is a very jealous man…”

“Really?”

Michael tilted his head to a side, loving the game. And more than anything else, loving how much they still loved to play.

“Yes… Jealous and a bit possessive, to be precise. I am not even sure he’d be happy knowing that you got in this late in the evening… While I’m here all alone…”

Biting his lip, he pushed himself off the door and started unbuckling his belt.

“But I haven’t really gotten in… yet.”

Holding his gaze, Lisa put the beer bottle on the table. She immediately began unzipping her jeans, letting them pool at her feet and stepping out of them. Michael, his hands still fidgeting with his pants, moved closer and into her personal space and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him with a passion that had been severely downplayed up until that point. He unbuttoned his pants and finally managed to pry open his fly just as Lisa started rubbing her lithe body against him. He picked her up without any effort, striding over to the nearest wall. Pinning her against it as they kept kissing and sighing.

She reached down, blindly, and freed him from the constraint of his underwear. The moment she realized how aroused he already was, she smiled into the kiss. She loved how responsive her husband was to her.

When she positioned his cock at her center, Michael’s hand covered hers and just caressed her fingers for a moment. The short, tender contact in the whirlwind of their passion made her feel as if her heart was going to explode. Leaving his lips, she traced a path of kisses to his ear.

“Get in, then…” she whispered.

“So you’re telling me that… you don’t care about mixing professional and personal?” He panted, all the while guiding her movements on himself, turning her on even more.

“I don’t give a fuck…”

Michael’s hand left hers and she felt him move her panties to a side.

Lisa knew exactly what to do, so she guided him inside and they both moaned out loud the moment he started to enter her. Forehead against forehead, they stared at each other for a quick, yet endless instant. Then she glanced down, loving how he kept his body in a position that allowed her to see everything – because he knew that they both found visual stimulation just as arousing as the act itself.

Michael just stood still for a moment, then he thrust upward, penetrating her fully, making her cry out. Lisa’s head fell back, against the wall, and he started kissing her exposed throat.

“Shit… You OK?”

His voice was husky, and he was breathless.

Lisa swallowed and just nodded her head, not finding the lucidity to speak at the moment. She felt him nip at her skin.

“Then buckle up, baby… This ain’t gonna be slow…”

God, she sure hoped so. The moment she had seen him at the door, she had realized that he was in one of his moods. It had been enough for her to align with him right away. She wanted what was happening just as much as he did.

He started moving with all the pent-up desire Lisa knew he had been accumulating for the past week or so. Lisa knew exactly the feeling. But they were just human, and they had been so busy, so exhausted lately, caught in between two demanding creative processes and their little one who, finally mobile, had become a little bundle of energy. Their intimate moments had been pushed aside for a bit, and she wanted her husband. She longed for his body. She missed him and had loved to have him show up at the studio unannounced.

Not that he didn’t have the right to. After all, despite his playful tone over the phone, Michael still loved to brag about having her sign for MJJ Music. It had taken him quite a long time to convince her because Lisa was a stubborn woman and always had been. Still, in the end, he had succeeded and never forgot to remind her. Just like he never stopped bragging about how beautiful the lyrics she had co-written with him for a couple of songs of his were – another kinda-sorta victory for him. He could be exhausting when it came to gloating. But it was just his playful attitude, and it was never about maligning anyone.

With time, Lisa had learned to just laugh it off and let him be a baby when he wanted to act like it, because she loved him just the way he was and she wouldn’t have changed anything about Michael. Not a single thing. She loved him for him.

However, at that very moment there was absolutely nothing about him that was childlike. With every thrust, every kiss, every stroke of his hands he reminded her that he possessed all the dominance and virility that he needed to mark her his every time he wanted to. And Lisa loved every second of it.

She was glad that the studio was deserted at that time of the evening. Because as much as this was nothing but a scorching hot quickie, she and Michael were not made for fucking in silence. They never had been made for quiet lovemaking and even their most languid, slowest lovemaking sessions were always interspersed with that verbal communication that, especially as of late, had become one of their trademarks.

Soon, the flawless acoustic that permeated every single room of the studio filled with moans and little sighs, with curse words and breathless declarations of love.

Lisa clung to Michael’s neck as she screamed out, coming violently for the second time within minutes, and bit down on his shoulder, making him flinch.

“God, I wish I could feel your skin on mine,” she moaned, her words chopped and breathless. “And I wanna feel you come…”

He didn’t let up and kept pounding into her – his movements voracious and hurried.

“Oh shit, I can’t fucking hold it anymore… Oh, fuck! I’m coming…”

He threw his head back and started to release into her as she followed him into his climax instantly, stirred up even more by his language. By words that he reserved just for her, and only for these moments.

His essence invading her also did something to her and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, feeling her eyes well up. Reaching up blindly, she caressed his sweaty skin as he too collapsed against her body, still holding her in his arms, and kissed the side of her face. Lisa moved the damp fabric of his shirt to a side and gently licked his skin. She sniffled.

“I love you…”

He didn’t move. He just kept panting.

“Me too… So damn much.” He kissed her temple. “Are you crying?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Lisa smiled.

“Why?”

“Because my husband fucks me so good that I can’t help but feel overwhelmed.”

Michael laughed, breathlessly.

“OK… I’mma sit down… Don’t move.”

“No, you don’t move. I feel you wanna stay where you are…”

He stepped back and their eyes met. He was still smiling.

“Damn right… But I gotta sit. My legs are all shaky and I need to catch my breath.”

“…’kay…”

Lisa kept kissing him, her eyes closed, as he sat down on the small couch near the table. Without leaving her lips, Michael reached out and grabbed the beer bottle, pulling it close, then the paper bag.

“Baby-girl… I think we need to find another way to meet and… spend some quality time together…”

Lisa laughed, breaking the kiss and using her hands to dry up his sweaty face.

“Why? This is kinda hot.”

“It is, but I wanna make love to you at night, too… In our bed… With all the time in the world.”

“You do have a point.” Lisa took a sip of beer, then handed him the bottle and watched him drink. She loved having him still inside, still half-hard. And given the look on his face, she knew he too appreciated the accommodation.

“So… How was your day? Productive?”

His casual tone faltered a bit when her hips swayed on him slightly and he cleared her throat.

“Very. I think I’m almost done, you know…”

“That’s amazing…” Michael pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “And let me remind you that we can set up a mini-tour, once the album is released. I think we should consider-”

She covered his mouth with her hand.

“I haven’t thought about that yet. I told you. I’m not sure I wanna be on a stage, in front of an audience. I know that’s your element, but it ain’t mine. I still think I’d feel mighty uncomfortable, you know that.”

He gently removed her hand and kissed her palm.

“Yeah, I know… but things change, Lise. They change all the time.”

“True… And yet, some things just stay the same.” Lisa touched his face, lovingly.

“OK… What about the title? Did you make up your mind yet?”

“Well, I was thinking about something along the lines of, ‘My hubby is a stud’ and-”

He laughed and pulled her close for another kiss. Playful at the beginning, the contact became slower and more intense. They savored the moment as long as they could and when they broke apart, Lisa studied his face and she was serious.

“I hadn’t made up my mind until I saw you tonight, but now maybe…”

Michael wasn’t smiling any longer, either. He just watched her, waiting.

She took a deep breath.

“Unraveling. I think my album will be titled Unraveling.”

He blinked, very slowly. She didn’t need to explain. He knew.

“I think it’s beautiful, Lise. I think it’s perfect.”

Knysa, South Africa – Six months later

Relaxing in her deck chair while sipping a cocktail, Lisa watched Michael and Riley play in the pool. The day was sunny, and Michael was immersed in the water up to his waist, laughing as he moved the infant around on her little rubber dinghy. He wore sunglasses and was standing there with black shorts and a black t-shirt on – both drenched. His only defenses against the African sun.

Lisa had told him that she could take care of it. That she should be the one playing with Ri in the pool, since the day was pretty hot even though they were close to Christmas, but he had refused. He had told her that, for once, he wouldn’t care about anything but spending time with his daughter just the way his daughter wanted him to, and Lisa had relented.

So she had sunbathed for several hours during the afternoon, and now she took a moment to just enjoy the cooler temperature that was granted by the shade, knowing well that their baby girl was always safe with her dad. Michael was a perfect parent, no doubt about that. And an imperfectly perfect husband, which worked just fine for her. She wouldn’t change Michael for any other man in the world.

The house in Knysa had been his idea, by the way. The moment he had discovered the villa on the cliff, granting absolute privacy and an uninterrupted view of the ocean and the mountains, all bets had been off. He wanted it, and whatever Michael wanted, Michael got.

Two weeks later, the house was theirs and their little family could finally enjoy the luxury of leaving the States and just retreat in a place where the paparazzi would never be able to reach them. Even the aerial space was off-limits, since Michael had experienced one too many reporters trying to pry on him while flying over the ranch on helicopters. Some had even resorted to parachutes, on some specific occasions. It was nuts!

The very first weeks after Riley’s birth had been crazy, and the media had been in a constant frenzy, trying to find out everything they could about the biracial baby that was the embodiment of the two most prominent musical dynasties in America, and likely the whole world. The speculations had started to abound while Lisa and the baby were still at the hospital, and although part of the press had shown unexpected respect, the sleazy tabloids were having a field day: was Michael really the father? Was it all a publicity stunt? Was the baby the result of some human-alien genetic mash-up? Was it true that the Church was behind it all and what Lisa and Michael shared was nothing but a mutually lucrative business deal?

What an utter pile of crap!

Lisa was glad that all her time and attention had been absorbed by their newborn during those first, frantic times. And eventually, Michael had been right: the moment they had released a public statement about their marriage and their baby, together with a picture of their new family, the press had finally left the premises and Hidden Hills had gone back to its usual, serene quietness.

Obviously, even Frank had played his part, by carefully choosing the outlet that would deliver the news. It had been one of Michael’s most favorite black-owned magazines, and its numbers had skyrocketed into holy heaven. Since then, the blabbermouths of course had kept gossiping, but it all had become way milder when compared to the past. Apparently, even the nastiest press could end up relenting in front of the most obvious situation. Even when the targets were two low-hanging fruits like Michael and Lisa.

However, when it came to the press, the USA could be pervasive and Lisa and Michael never had the luxury to just step out of Hidden Hills or Neverland – or even the Hideout, for that matter – and be left alone. That was just beyond the realm of possibility.

Spending some time abroad on a regular basis had ended up looking like the best solution, mainly because the havoc had started again once Lisa released her album.

Unexpectedly, the reviews had been more than good – some even surprisingly so. It was pretty apparent that the media didn’t expect much from Lisa, and they were stunned by the quality of her work. She had been forced to give a couple of interviews and had been adamant about her intention to not go on tour, at least for the time being. She had a couple of reasons for that, and they were more than valid: she had an infant baby to take care of, and she didn’t think she needed to promote her album with a series of live shows. She just didn’t care about live performances.

That last part had fallen on deaf ears and, for quite some time and despite her resistance, Lisa had engaged in several meetings with tour promoters. People who were trying to convince her that touring was indeed a great idea, even though she kept reiterating that she didn’t really care if her album climbed the charts or not. She had made that album for herself mainly.

But those people, they could be unrelenting. She had berated Michael in the past, telling him that he shouldn’t give them so much space. Until she had discovered that they would always find a way in, it didn’t matter where she was or what she had said. Lisa still remembered one particular occasion, when she and Michael were having a private dinner at the Ivy Restaurant in Los Angeles.

After what had looked like a completely ordinary evening, they had stepped out of the restaurant and she had been ambushed by another tour promoter. A new one.

It had been the straw that broke the camel’s back and she had told Michael that she needed to get away from all the attention. She needed to be left alone for a while. And that simply was not going to happen there.

That was why their South-African house felt so different. Both from Neverland and the mansion at Hidden Hills. Its flavor and overall sensation were different and possibly it was because there was never anybody, not even the staff, around 24/7. Lisa had been unmovable: if that architectural masterpiece had to be theirs, it had to be theirs alone.

Michael had agreed, and now they had very trusted cooks, nannies and maids helping them out only when it was strictly necessary. A wing of the house was perfect for the security detail, just in case, but that was pretty much it. They were on their own most of the time. The South-African mansion allowed Michael and Lisa to be nothing but parents and nothing but partners.

Compromising was the key. They both knew when it was the case to put their foot down and when to relent. They also knew that every decision and every choice they made was always part of the most significant vision of wholeness, fulfillment, unity. They cherished their life as a married couple, it didn’t matter how imperfect it could be at times. They were still parents, confidants, lovers, each other’s best friend and soulmate. They accepted one another – both in their limits and talents, qualities and flaws – and loved each other profoundly.

Lisa now knew that bliss was not perfection per se or constant happiness. Bliss was a state of unity, transcendence, completeness, knowingness, wholeness, and uplifted consciousness. Unlike several other different feelings, bliss was never dull – it was expansive, always new, and infinite.

“Lisa! Lise…! Come playing with us!”

Almost on cue, Michael laughed as Riley clapped her hands and Lisa shook her head, smiling. She just stood up and got rid of her sarong slowly, knowing well that he was watching, then she made her way to the pool.

“Hey, Ri! Look at your gorgeous mommy!”

Michael fully immersed himself in the water and started pushing the dinghy in Lisa’s direction.

“Mommy!” Riley squealed in delight when Lisa climbed down the three stairs and reached them in the water, kissing her cheek.

“Hi, beautiful baby. Are you having fun?”

“Daddy! Pool!”

Reaching out, Riley grabbed Michael’s hand and clung to his finger. He brought her chubby little hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.

“That’s right. Daddy is in the pool with you. Which is unexpected and beautiful.”

“’Utiful.”

“You’re exactly correct, baby-girl. It’s beautiful!”

Lisa touched Riley’s head.

“Alright… Enough sun for today. Plus, she looks like a little prune. We’re going out…” She turned to Michael. “You can stay in if you want, but given how hot it’s getting, I think you might wanna follow us inside and cool off.”

Squinting his eyes from behind the lenses of his sunglasses, he looked up at the sky.

“Yeah… But not because it’s too hot. It’s gonna rain soon.”

“No way, there isn’t a single cloud in the sky.”

“Yeah? You’ll see.”

Precisely forty-five minutes later, the three of them were snuggled on the couch under a light comforter, watching cartoons on TV while the rain poured down outside. Riley had fallen asleep between Lisa and Michael, her head resting in her mother’s lap, her little feet pressing against her dad’s stomach. Michael’s arms were around Lisa’s shoulders and he pulled her close for a kiss.

“She’s out like a light.”

“That’s because she didn’t have her afternoon nap. Guess whose fault is that?”

“Well, she wanted to play with her dad. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing…” Lisa stroked his hair and sighed. “It’s perfect.”

He stared into her eyes and she thought she was floating in a black universe studded with stars.

“You want me to tuck her in?”

Her hand moved to the side of his face and she caressed his cheek, loving the feeling of his evening stubble against her skin.

“No… Not yet. Let’s just stay here for a little while still…”

“You aren’t falling asleep, are you?”

“No, I just wanna spend some time like this. It’s so peaceful.”

He smiled, ever so slightly, understanding the profound meaning of her words. They both knew that they would never have regular lives. They were very much aware of what their very existence entailed: chaos, first and foremost.

But not here. And not right now.

This had been such a great day. They had woken up early and had spent the morning at a local hospital and then at a nearby orphanage, taking care as best as they could of so many kids Lisa that had lost count. Bringing toys and equipment and donations – which was what those places needed the most. In the past year or so, she and Michael had shared their humanitarian vision and their efforts had ended up being multiplied tenfold. They had doubled the time and the investment in that field and it was possibly one of the most rewarding things they shared as a couple. They loved doing charity together – adored it, really.

At this very moment, Lisa could not fathom how insecure and shaky she had been, right before meeting Michael, about what her future had in store for her. And even now, at times, she was amazed at how things could change so radically in such a short time. If Michael asked her, at this very moment, if she felt accomplished, Lisa would reply that she did. Or at least that she was pursuing the road to absolute completion.

Just like he was.

They never really talked about it, but Michael too had been undergoing a new metamorphosis. It was reflected in his new songs and in the way he carried himself. He paid less attention to his public persona now, as his focus and interest seemed to have shifted. At times Lisa had a feeling that he felt he had arrived, wherever it was that he had been planning to go for his entire life. She also knew that it surprised him, the lack of control he had been able to allow on the most recent events of his life. And also how relieving it had been to find out that being in control all the time wasn’t always necessary.

Lately, he would at times go out unshaven, wearing just a hoodie and baggy pants, holding his daughter in his arms, not a care in the world. He was no longer preoccupied with what anyone could think of him, or worried about what pictures would be plastered in the magazines. Which was something that had surprised her when she first had met him, anyway. This semi-divine creature was bothered by what commoners could say about him. This artist, who had spent his entire life perfecting his craft, was also an extremely self-conscious man. A shy guy, a nerd, a prankster, a lover, a flawed individual with so much good in his heart that possibly, the world wouldn’t be able to contain it.

And yet he often felt insufficient. When he was far from it. He had to know that – he had to remember and never forget that he was all that Lisa could hope for and everything she dreamed.

“You are so loved…” She just whispered at one point, almost thinking out loud. “You are so loved, Michael.”

His eyes seemed to shine in the dim light of the room.

“Lise…”

She just smiled and took his hand.

“You are. And no matter who you were and no matter who you are and no matter who you will be, I’m going to love you.”