Another Broken Home, chapter 2
"Is she awake?" Bridgette heard a little girl's voice from far away. "Who is she, Daddy?"
"I don't know, but she's not awake," a man's voice answered. Bridgette hardly dared to open her eyes, wondering if she was dreaming. She pinched herself with a hand near her thigh, but she felt the tweak of being pinched at her touch, so it obviously wasn't a dream.
"I wonder where she's from," the little girl's voice wondered. "Why was she sleeping outside our house?"
"Stella, that's a good question," the man's voice answered. "Maybe you could ask her when she wakes up."
"Is she gonna stay here?"
"I dunno, Hero." Hero? Stella? Wait... wasn't that... no, couldn't be.
"Okay."
Bridgette began to slowly open her eyes. She was in a room, with white walls and a large bed, on which she lay, covered by a blanket. There was a large chair in one corner, and two people who she couldn't quite see, sat in it. She moved her head to look, and they both looked over. One was a little brown haired girl in jeans, Converse, and a Snoopy t-shirt. The other, was a skinny, brown haired man who looked like her a bit.
"She's up!" the girl squealed, and ran over. Bridgette sat up, as the girl jumped on to the bed.
"What...?" Bridgette asked.
"My name's Estelle, but you can call me Stella. What's your name?"
"Bridgette," Bridgette answered.
Stella looked at her. "Oh, that's my Daddy," she pointed to the man in the corner. "He plays bass. My Mommy's not here though, she's on vacation. But she wouldn't be here anyways she and Daddy aren't married anymore. I'm seven, how old are you?"
"I'm eighteen." Bridgette smiled, only partially realizing who she was with, due to the fact that she did not function well when just waking up.
"You're older than me. Can I ask you a question?"
"I think you just did."
"Another one?"
Bridgette smiled, and paused for a second before nodding.
"Why were you sleeping outside my Daddy's house?"
"Because... um..."
"Stella," the man said, getting up, "don't pester her with questions. It's not nice." He looked at Bridgette. "I'm Mike."
"Hello Mike," Bridgette said, "How long have I been asleep?"
"About three hours."
"Oh... I'm sorry, I should go." Bridgette moved to get up.
"No. Don't go. Not now at least. Look... I... I own a café, would you at least let me feed you?"
"Well," Bridgette considered things, and already, what was left of her dignity was pretty much gone.
"Its got really good milkshakes," Stella coaxed.
"Okay," Bridgette gave in, "sure."
"Yay!" Stella shrieked and clapped. "Rudy's!"
"Rudy's?" Bridgette asked, not recognizing the nickname.
"Rudy's Can't Fail Café, after the Ramones song."
"Hm, okay, so you're name's Mike, but you own a café called Rudy's?"
"Co-own. But yeah, the other guy's name isn't Rudy."
"Didn't think so," Bridgette laughed. "You know, I should probably change... I feel filthy."
"Yeah, there's a bathroom in there." Mike pointed to a door, "Um, use the shower if you want..."
"Thanks," Bridgette said, "for everything."
"No problem."
She walked into the bathroom, carrying her bag. She undressed, turned on the shower to a good temperature, and stepped in. As she felt some of the dirt and grime slip away, she contemplated what was happening. By now, she had pretty much realized who she was with, but was too tired to point out the obvious. She finished her shower, and stepped out to pull on some of her clothes. She took a pair of somewhat clean jeans and a Pinole Valley High t-shirt, mainly because it was one of the only shirts in there that was remotely clean. Finally, she put her Converse on and stepped out to the room.
Finding no one there, she ventured out into the hall, and down some stairs, to a living room, from which voices were coming from. She stepped in to find, Stella playing with Barbies and Mike watching her, as three of the Kens had a rock concert to six of the Barbies.
"See Daddy, that one's you," Stella pointed to a Ken in black. Bridgette noticed that all the Kens were in black and two had tattoos drawn all over their arms.
"Hey," Mike said, looking up, "you clean up good."
"Thank you," Bridgette said.
"Pinole Valley High. You go there?"
"I did. I just graduated," Bridgette confessed.
"I went there."
"I know. A copy of your permanent record's in my bag."
"I'm not even going to ask," Mike said. "C'mon Hero, let's go."
"Rudy's! Rudy's!" Stella chanted. "Can I bring a Barbie?"
"Um..." Mike considered this for a minute, if he let her she would be completely absorbed in it all night, and if he didn't she would pout in the car. "Just in the car. Okay?"
Stella looked at him with a frown, but reluctantly agreed.
So that was how, fifteen minutes later, Bridgette found herself sitting at a booth with Mike Dirnt, while Stella watched some of the chefs cook.
"Um," Mike said, "if you don't mind me asking, why were you sleeping the sidewalk? I've done it enough myself, but I'm still curious."
"I ran away," Bridgette confessed, "this morning." It was hard to believe that just this morning, she had been reading his permanent record, and laughing about the number of absents his band mate had had.
Mike looked at her, attentively.
"See, my parents are divorced, and I lived with my mom. We... we don't get along. And there are some issues that I have with my life, and I made a huge mistake, and it's gonna ruin everything that was ready for me."
"What do you mean?"
"I had a scholarship to college. But... but..." Bridgette could hardly say it, as she felt tears welling up behind her eyes.
"Yeah?" Mike asked. "Bridgette, I know what messed up families are like. I come from one."
"Okay, I just need to calm down," Bridgette sighed, as she felt herself breathe and loosen her jaw. "Okay."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Good. Um, if you don't want to tell me, I understand. I..." Mike stopped talking, as he watched Stella point to a picture on the wall, with another little kid.
"I'm pregnant," Bridgette admitted quietly.
"That's not good," Mike said, after a minute of looking at her. "You're not kidding, that this could mess things up."
"Um, yeah," Bridgette said. "Everything was so great..."
"Well, do you have a place to live?"
"Other than the dorms, no. And I don't know how they'll feel with a baby in them..."
"Well, you could stay with me. I have a large enough house. And we could work something out with childcare."
"You'd do that? Omigod, I fucking love you!" Bridgette said. "Wait, not like that..."
"I understand," Mike chuckled.
"How much rent?" Bridgette asked suspiciously.
"None. I know what situation you're in. I lived in a warehouse. Remember? Plus, I'm already rich as hell."
"Well, I... I can't do that; I'll feel like a moocher."
"Why?"
"I mean; I can't just take up a room in your house. I'll... I'll..."
"Don't worry. I can cover it. I'm a rock star. Look, how about when I'm away, you baby sit the house for a bit? And other times, you come?"
"Well, okay, but I'll buy my own groceries."
"Why? I can do that."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Mike looked at her, and she smiled weakly.
"Thank you. You have no idea how much this helps."
"I think I do."
"But... I dunno, I can't do this. I'll feel like I'm mooching off you... c'mon, let me help somehow."
"Well... um how about you watch Stella when I need you to, and... uh, I dunno, you can have a job here, to buy your own clothes. How's that?"
Bridgette considered things for a minute. "Alright."
Mike smiled at her, and Stella came back to the table, announcing that her new favorite waitress was someone named Lindsay, because she had given her a piece of chocolate and tied her shoe for her.
"I don't know, but she's not awake," a man's voice answered. Bridgette hardly dared to open her eyes, wondering if she was dreaming. She pinched herself with a hand near her thigh, but she felt the tweak of being pinched at her touch, so it obviously wasn't a dream.
"I wonder where she's from," the little girl's voice wondered. "Why was she sleeping outside our house?"
"Stella, that's a good question," the man's voice answered. "Maybe you could ask her when she wakes up."
"Is she gonna stay here?"
"I dunno, Hero." Hero? Stella? Wait... wasn't that... no, couldn't be.
"Okay."
Bridgette began to slowly open her eyes. She was in a room, with white walls and a large bed, on which she lay, covered by a blanket. There was a large chair in one corner, and two people who she couldn't quite see, sat in it. She moved her head to look, and they both looked over. One was a little brown haired girl in jeans, Converse, and a Snoopy t-shirt. The other, was a skinny, brown haired man who looked like her a bit.
"She's up!" the girl squealed, and ran over. Bridgette sat up, as the girl jumped on to the bed.
"What...?" Bridgette asked.
"My name's Estelle, but you can call me Stella. What's your name?"
"Bridgette," Bridgette answered.
Stella looked at her. "Oh, that's my Daddy," she pointed to the man in the corner. "He plays bass. My Mommy's not here though, she's on vacation. But she wouldn't be here anyways she and Daddy aren't married anymore. I'm seven, how old are you?"
"I'm eighteen." Bridgette smiled, only partially realizing who she was with, due to the fact that she did not function well when just waking up.
"You're older than me. Can I ask you a question?"
"I think you just did."
"Another one?"
Bridgette smiled, and paused for a second before nodding.
"Why were you sleeping outside my Daddy's house?"
"Because... um..."
"Stella," the man said, getting up, "don't pester her with questions. It's not nice." He looked at Bridgette. "I'm Mike."
"Hello Mike," Bridgette said, "How long have I been asleep?"
"About three hours."
"Oh... I'm sorry, I should go." Bridgette moved to get up.
"No. Don't go. Not now at least. Look... I... I own a café, would you at least let me feed you?"
"Well," Bridgette considered things, and already, what was left of her dignity was pretty much gone.
"Its got really good milkshakes," Stella coaxed.
"Okay," Bridgette gave in, "sure."
"Yay!" Stella shrieked and clapped. "Rudy's!"
"Rudy's?" Bridgette asked, not recognizing the nickname.
"Rudy's Can't Fail Café, after the Ramones song."
"Hm, okay, so you're name's Mike, but you own a café called Rudy's?"
"Co-own. But yeah, the other guy's name isn't Rudy."
"Didn't think so," Bridgette laughed. "You know, I should probably change... I feel filthy."
"Yeah, there's a bathroom in there." Mike pointed to a door, "Um, use the shower if you want..."
"Thanks," Bridgette said, "for everything."
"No problem."
She walked into the bathroom, carrying her bag. She undressed, turned on the shower to a good temperature, and stepped in. As she felt some of the dirt and grime slip away, she contemplated what was happening. By now, she had pretty much realized who she was with, but was too tired to point out the obvious. She finished her shower, and stepped out to pull on some of her clothes. She took a pair of somewhat clean jeans and a Pinole Valley High t-shirt, mainly because it was one of the only shirts in there that was remotely clean. Finally, she put her Converse on and stepped out to the room.
Finding no one there, she ventured out into the hall, and down some stairs, to a living room, from which voices were coming from. She stepped in to find, Stella playing with Barbies and Mike watching her, as three of the Kens had a rock concert to six of the Barbies.
"See Daddy, that one's you," Stella pointed to a Ken in black. Bridgette noticed that all the Kens were in black and two had tattoos drawn all over their arms.
"Hey," Mike said, looking up, "you clean up good."
"Thank you," Bridgette said.
"Pinole Valley High. You go there?"
"I did. I just graduated," Bridgette confessed.
"I went there."
"I know. A copy of your permanent record's in my bag."
"I'm not even going to ask," Mike said. "C'mon Hero, let's go."
"Rudy's! Rudy's!" Stella chanted. "Can I bring a Barbie?"
"Um..." Mike considered this for a minute, if he let her she would be completely absorbed in it all night, and if he didn't she would pout in the car. "Just in the car. Okay?"
Stella looked at him with a frown, but reluctantly agreed.
So that was how, fifteen minutes later, Bridgette found herself sitting at a booth with Mike Dirnt, while Stella watched some of the chefs cook.
"Um," Mike said, "if you don't mind me asking, why were you sleeping the sidewalk? I've done it enough myself, but I'm still curious."
"I ran away," Bridgette confessed, "this morning." It was hard to believe that just this morning, she had been reading his permanent record, and laughing about the number of absents his band mate had had.
Mike looked at her, attentively.
"See, my parents are divorced, and I lived with my mom. We... we don't get along. And there are some issues that I have with my life, and I made a huge mistake, and it's gonna ruin everything that was ready for me."
"What do you mean?"
"I had a scholarship to college. But... but..." Bridgette could hardly say it, as she felt tears welling up behind her eyes.
"Yeah?" Mike asked. "Bridgette, I know what messed up families are like. I come from one."
"Okay, I just need to calm down," Bridgette sighed, as she felt herself breathe and loosen her jaw. "Okay."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Good. Um, if you don't want to tell me, I understand. I..." Mike stopped talking, as he watched Stella point to a picture on the wall, with another little kid.
"I'm pregnant," Bridgette admitted quietly.
"That's not good," Mike said, after a minute of looking at her. "You're not kidding, that this could mess things up."
"Um, yeah," Bridgette said. "Everything was so great..."
"Well, do you have a place to live?"
"Other than the dorms, no. And I don't know how they'll feel with a baby in them..."
"Well, you could stay with me. I have a large enough house. And we could work something out with childcare."
"You'd do that? Omigod, I fucking love you!" Bridgette said. "Wait, not like that..."
"I understand," Mike chuckled.
"How much rent?" Bridgette asked suspiciously.
"None. I know what situation you're in. I lived in a warehouse. Remember? Plus, I'm already rich as hell."
"Well, I... I can't do that; I'll feel like a moocher."
"Why?"
"I mean; I can't just take up a room in your house. I'll... I'll..."
"Don't worry. I can cover it. I'm a rock star. Look, how about when I'm away, you baby sit the house for a bit? And other times, you come?"
"Well, okay, but I'll buy my own groceries."
"Why? I can do that."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Mike looked at her, and she smiled weakly.
"Thank you. You have no idea how much this helps."
"I think I do."
"But... I dunno, I can't do this. I'll feel like I'm mooching off you... c'mon, let me help somehow."
"Well... um how about you watch Stella when I need you to, and... uh, I dunno, you can have a job here, to buy your own clothes. How's that?"
Bridgette considered things for a minute. "Alright."
Mike smiled at her, and Stella came back to the table, announcing that her new favorite waitress was someone named Lindsay, because she had given her a piece of chocolate and tied her shoe for her.
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