‹ Prequel: Uncle Good Riddance
Daddy Cool
1.
A strong pair of arms wrapped around my waist and made me so protected in an instance. It was amazing how a simple gesture could change your feelings so quickly, so simply, so breath-takingly. I smiled softly to myself.
“And what can I do for you?” I teased my long-term partner. 17 long years me and Frank Edwin Wright the 3rd, commonly known as Tre Cool, have been together now and he still gives me those butterflies. Well most of the time he does. When he's not siding with our children. Children. God times moved quickly, I tell you now, dear readers.
“I just saw you standing here and needed to hold you.” He placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek, making me laugh and push him away.
“Eurgh, parent sex, disgusting.” Our eldest scoffed as she walked into our kitchen and saw her father with his arms around me. She tossed her long chocolate brown hair over her shoulder, the different diamond earrings in her ears glinting and glittering as they caught the natural light.
“Good morning, Freya, and how are you on this wonderful day?” Her father turned and asked her. She rolled her eyes at him and opened the fridge, taking out the orange juice and taking a long drink straight from the carton.
“Excuse me, what were glasses invented for, young lady?” I scolded. One thing you should know, all the discipline falls to me in this household, unless the children did something really bad like drugs and then I think Tre might have something to say. Of course, we've never had to deal with drugs or anything – yet. But these are OUR children we're talking about.
Freya – 17, attitude problem, cocky, sarcastic, but good natured anyway. She wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone, or anything. Her long chocolate hair fell just past her chest, she was tall – something Tre blessed her with – and was blessed with a body she was extremely proud of. Her dark blue eyes were known for glittering dangerously when she was angry and her small nose with pierced, along with all of her ears. She's been shooting for a lip ring for a while but I will not let her get one.
Willow – 15, quiet, and always happy. She's nicknamed the hippy in our household, her long blonde hair is worn often wavey with a head band or some sort of ribbon around her forehead, she is the opposite of her older sister who favours the dark, more serious clothing, a scene kid if you will. Willow is often found meditating in her room, aligning her chakra's or doing yoga.
And finally, our only boy Raiden. He is absolutely Tre's son at the age of 12. He already has the skinny jeans and is trying to go a mohawk and is amazing on the drums thanks to his father for teaching him from the age of 4. They are incredibly close, and Raiden is the spit of him. Raiden has also recently gotten into wearing a little eyeliner and pestering me for a tattoo or a lip ring. It's not going to happen, let me tell you right now. Tre's starting to relent, but I'm trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for now. 12 is too young to start being pierced and tattooed.
“Glasses were invented for old people. We're family, we got the same germs, chill out.” She shrugged taking another gulp from the carton.
“Listen to your mother, Freya. Use a glass next time.” Tre smiled at me.
“Jump out of Mom's ass, Dad. She won't fuck you tonight.” Freya smirked at him, throwing the empty carton in the trash and grabbing her car keys. “I'll be home whenever.”
“Be home by 5 tonight, we're having family round!” I called after her.
“I'll be home when I'm home, right?” She called back, slamming the front door behind her.
Tre gave me a look, fighting to keep a smirk off his face.
“What?” I asked him, rubbing my temples.
“I bet you were exactly like that when you were her age, weren't you?” He reached out and pulled me into him and gave me a tender kiss on the lips.
“No I wasn't.” The truth is, I was exactly like that.
***
“Afternoon.” I strolled lazily outside, it was the schools summer holidays – which meant Willow would be in our garden, constantly; Freya wouldn't be seen for hours on end as she trawls the mall; and Raiden will be playing drums or guitar with his dad and Mike and Billie. I walked up to my middle baby, who was sitting awkwardly on the grass next to our pool in a long flowing skirt and a bikini top, her hair tied up with a 'hippy ribbon' as Freya calls them.
“Hey.” She said, twirling a daisy around her fingers, not bothering to look up at me.
“What you up to? Fancy coming to the shops with me? Treat you to some new clothes?” I sat down next to her, picking a flower myself and placing it in her hair.
“No thanks.” She still didn't even look at me.
“What's wrong?” I asked, concerned.
“Nothing.”
“Willow, I can tell when your upset.” She stood up and stretched.
“Mom, I'm fine.” She walked quickly into the house, leaving me sat on the grass alone. This isn't like her, Freya can be the biggest, moodiest bitch you've ever met, Willow is always so happy-go-lucky. It's got to be something serious. I followed her into the house.
“Willow?” I called, walking up the stairs and finding her in her room, checking her cell phone. “Talk to me?”
“Mom, go away, god you always have to be so nosey!” She shouted, slamming the door in my face. I was beyond shocked. Tre looked up the stairs at me as I walked down in a daze.
“What the hell happened then?” I shrugged.
“Something's not right with her and she won't tell me.” He held out his arms.
“She's a teenage girl. It's probably, I don't know, time of the month or something.” He hugged me tightly. “Plus, remember, she is your daughter and she is the sister of Freya. She gotta have some moody genes in there somewhere.”
“Men always have to refer back to periods don't they?” He winced.
“That's my little girl, Bodaceia.”
“Mine too, and she won't talk to me.”
“And what can I do for you?” I teased my long-term partner. 17 long years me and Frank Edwin Wright the 3rd, commonly known as Tre Cool, have been together now and he still gives me those butterflies. Well most of the time he does. When he's not siding with our children. Children. God times moved quickly, I tell you now, dear readers.
“I just saw you standing here and needed to hold you.” He placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek, making me laugh and push him away.
“Eurgh, parent sex, disgusting.” Our eldest scoffed as she walked into our kitchen and saw her father with his arms around me. She tossed her long chocolate brown hair over her shoulder, the different diamond earrings in her ears glinting and glittering as they caught the natural light.
“Good morning, Freya, and how are you on this wonderful day?” Her father turned and asked her. She rolled her eyes at him and opened the fridge, taking out the orange juice and taking a long drink straight from the carton.
“Excuse me, what were glasses invented for, young lady?” I scolded. One thing you should know, all the discipline falls to me in this household, unless the children did something really bad like drugs and then I think Tre might have something to say. Of course, we've never had to deal with drugs or anything – yet. But these are OUR children we're talking about.
Freya – 17, attitude problem, cocky, sarcastic, but good natured anyway. She wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone, or anything. Her long chocolate hair fell just past her chest, she was tall – something Tre blessed her with – and was blessed with a body she was extremely proud of. Her dark blue eyes were known for glittering dangerously when she was angry and her small nose with pierced, along with all of her ears. She's been shooting for a lip ring for a while but I will not let her get one.
Willow – 15, quiet, and always happy. She's nicknamed the hippy in our household, her long blonde hair is worn often wavey with a head band or some sort of ribbon around her forehead, she is the opposite of her older sister who favours the dark, more serious clothing, a scene kid if you will. Willow is often found meditating in her room, aligning her chakra's or doing yoga.
And finally, our only boy Raiden. He is absolutely Tre's son at the age of 12. He already has the skinny jeans and is trying to go a mohawk and is amazing on the drums thanks to his father for teaching him from the age of 4. They are incredibly close, and Raiden is the spit of him. Raiden has also recently gotten into wearing a little eyeliner and pestering me for a tattoo or a lip ring. It's not going to happen, let me tell you right now. Tre's starting to relent, but I'm trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for now. 12 is too young to start being pierced and tattooed.
“Glasses were invented for old people. We're family, we got the same germs, chill out.” She shrugged taking another gulp from the carton.
“Listen to your mother, Freya. Use a glass next time.” Tre smiled at me.
“Jump out of Mom's ass, Dad. She won't fuck you tonight.” Freya smirked at him, throwing the empty carton in the trash and grabbing her car keys. “I'll be home whenever.”
“Be home by 5 tonight, we're having family round!” I called after her.
“I'll be home when I'm home, right?” She called back, slamming the front door behind her.
Tre gave me a look, fighting to keep a smirk off his face.
“What?” I asked him, rubbing my temples.
“I bet you were exactly like that when you were her age, weren't you?” He reached out and pulled me into him and gave me a tender kiss on the lips.
“No I wasn't.” The truth is, I was exactly like that.
***
“Afternoon.” I strolled lazily outside, it was the schools summer holidays – which meant Willow would be in our garden, constantly; Freya wouldn't be seen for hours on end as she trawls the mall; and Raiden will be playing drums or guitar with his dad and Mike and Billie. I walked up to my middle baby, who was sitting awkwardly on the grass next to our pool in a long flowing skirt and a bikini top, her hair tied up with a 'hippy ribbon' as Freya calls them.
“Hey.” She said, twirling a daisy around her fingers, not bothering to look up at me.
“What you up to? Fancy coming to the shops with me? Treat you to some new clothes?” I sat down next to her, picking a flower myself and placing it in her hair.
“No thanks.” She still didn't even look at me.
“What's wrong?” I asked, concerned.
“Nothing.”
“Willow, I can tell when your upset.” She stood up and stretched.
“Mom, I'm fine.” She walked quickly into the house, leaving me sat on the grass alone. This isn't like her, Freya can be the biggest, moodiest bitch you've ever met, Willow is always so happy-go-lucky. It's got to be something serious. I followed her into the house.
“Willow?” I called, walking up the stairs and finding her in her room, checking her cell phone. “Talk to me?”
“Mom, go away, god you always have to be so nosey!” She shouted, slamming the door in my face. I was beyond shocked. Tre looked up the stairs at me as I walked down in a daze.
“What the hell happened then?” I shrugged.
“Something's not right with her and she won't tell me.” He held out his arms.
“She's a teenage girl. It's probably, I don't know, time of the month or something.” He hugged me tightly. “Plus, remember, she is your daughter and she is the sister of Freya. She gotta have some moody genes in there somewhere.”
“Men always have to refer back to periods don't they?” He winced.
“That's my little girl, Bodaceia.”
“Mine too, and she won't talk to me.”