Memory Motel: Michelle Meets Mick’s Grandparents
Michelle was in the middle of a recurring dream, fourteen years old back in High School only she hasn’t studied for a test and Mr. Crossfield is handing out the test, except she is 22 years old not 14 and she is looking at her friends and wondering how they don’t know she doesn’t belong there and when she looks up at the man at the desk, it isn’t Mr. Crossfield at all, it is Mick Jagger. Michelle jumped up and ran to Mick and gave him a hug and then stepped back, a little flustered, blushing. Mick laughed and it was a charming laugh, it pleased her.
“Mick, are you my Daddy?”
“How can we not be related?” he said. And they both laughed and they were mirror images of each other, they were the same face, same expression..
“Do you wanna meet somebody?” Mick asked
“Sure, well, wait… who do I wanna meet?”
“My Grandparents, would you like to say hello. They are very nice, very sweet…. Very English. Nothing like us…”
“Yes, I would like that…” Michelle said, and Mick took her hand, he was suddenly young again, in his thirties and she was just a girl, ten years of age. They were outside a beautiful cottage, Michelle wasn’t sure where it was. It looked like, well, it certainly didn’t look like New York. Mick went to knock on the door but it was open and Harriett Jagger, opened it wide. She looked beautiful and English and proper, and her husband David was sitting reading a book, which he dropped and walked towards his son. Harriet hugged him. “You came to visit before the tour? How nice…”
“Hello, yes, today is the big day.”
“Are you nervous.”
“Not nervous, really, it is something I’ve done many times though this is certainly unique.” Mick kissed her on the cheek before introducing Michelle. Harriet gave the girl a curious smile, made note of their similarities and also made note that Michelle was still alive. “I am very pleased to meet you, young lady.” She said and David joined them, shook Mick’s hand and bowed to the young girl. “Tea? Would you care for some tea?”
“The English way,” Mick nodded with a smile.
The dining room table was filled with an English tea spread: a selection of dainty sandwiches (including of course thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches), scones served with clotted cream and preserves. Cakes and pastries are also served. Tea grown in India or Ceylon poured from silver tea pots into delicate bone china cups.
Harriet poured tea for her husband and guests and Michelle, while completely aware she was in a dream state, could taste every morsel, every dab of thick clotted cream, it was like an exercise in heavenly taste buds. “Oh great,” she thought. “Now I am going to spend the rest of my life wanting more of this and not quite finding it.” She ate well, her eyes sparklingly, as Mick discussed the tour, the disagreements with Keith but their conclusion that they would keep writing together once the tour was over.
“Have you seen your father?” David asked.
“I will do once I get back from the tour.”
“Keith saw his father first thing, young man…” Mick winked at Michelle over the young man comment.
“Well, I am noting that…”
“Oh David, sshh, he is off to save the Universe.”
A little later they were sitting on the sofa, Michelle leaning against Mick, in the crook of her arm, when she drifted off to sleep and when she woke up she was back in the hotel room with Phillip. She opened her eyes, suddenly less trustful of Phillip. “So Mick is my daddy…” she thought, “So what is he? Just a drunken detective or…”
She steadied her mind. “Maybe he isn’t my blood relation dad, but I feel he is and that has to be enough.” Michelle felt as though she was see swinging between faith in Phillip and disbelief. Why was he a part of this?