Nothing Else Matters
Recover the damage, bring it all home
“Why does it have to be so fucking hot outside?” I whine as I walk around the stadium with Luna and Presley. “I swear I hate summer. Give me winter.”
“You’re born and bred in California and you lived in the desert; the heat should be your ally by now.” Luna laughs. “You’re made for heat.”
“I think as I get older my tolerance for the heat diminishes.” I chuckle. “I might have to move to some place colder.”
“Like Denmark.”
“Hell no.” I say just as Presley screams out ‘yes.’ I just laugh at my son, he really loves Denmark. “The only way I was moving to Denmark is if Mike married me. But the engagement got called off so I’m off the hook for moving there.”
“Don’t you have an apartment there? Or are you going to just crash at Mike’s whenever you’re in the country.”
“I’m not buying property in Copenhagen, so I’ll just crash at my baby daddy’s until I can’t anymore. It’s not like we broke up on bad terms.”
“He’s going to eventually get a girlfriend,” she points out. “Some girls can’t deal with their boyfriends having a good relationship with their ex, kid involved or not.”
“He’s not going to ditch me for some chick.” I assure her. “Mike isn’t the guy to let a girl come between him and his son. She’s going to have to realize with the kid package momma comes along with it.”
“I hope you’re right. I’d hate to see Matt have to kick his ass.” Luna smirks at me, earning any eye roll.
“Please Matt has been threatening to kick Mike’s ass since 2009.” I chuckle. “It’s not going to happen.”
“I wonder who would actually win.” She ponders.
“Me.” I simply reply. “Because I’d kick both of their asses.” Luna just laughs and we continue our walk talking about random shit. Mike and Matt didn’t come up again….
**
I’m standing outside the venue smoking a cigarette as I try and catch Pokemon for my six year old. Just as I’m about to catch my 5th Sentret in the last hour, I feel someone walk up behind me.
“You know, moms shouldn’t dress like that.” The person says. I turn around and see a woman, the same age as my father, standing in front of me. She’s wearing mom jeans but tried to cool it up with a Metallica tour t-shirt. Her blonde graying hair is up in a bun and I couldn’t tell if she was wearing any makeup under her oversized aviators.
“And how do you know I’m a mom?” I question her, earning an eye roll.
“Please you’re Layla Hetfield, everyone flocks to your instagram. My son is obsessed with following you.” She informs me. “He likes to know what his sister is up to.”
“Last time I checked the only other kids my father has are the kids he had with his wife.” I tell her. “So I’m sorry but your son is mistaken, I don’t have other siblings.”
“I should have know he’d keep pictures of me hidden.” The lady scoffs. “He was always so childish.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I ask her.
“My name is Bridget; I’m your mother…”
