Elle (pronounced EL) Germanotta and her mother, Stefani, better known as Lady Gaga, live in New York City with their three dogs Asia, Gustav, and Koji. Other than Gustav and Koji, there are no other men in Elle's life.
Her father was nothing but a S...
"Elle..." I say, slowly opening the door to her dark room. I see a big lump in her blankets so I know thats where she is. I'm still pissed, but we have this agreement that whenever we upset one another, we are to communicate so that it doesn't poison our relationship. "Elle...I know you think I hate you or something because you always think that but, baby, you're my world. I just don't want you to poison your lungs the way I used to. You're killing yourself slowly, baby. I don't want you to do anything to harm yourself." I explain, sitting next to her and rubbing her back. She shifts a little. I try to peel the blanket away from her face but she holds on tight and won't let me in.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, mom." I hear her say. It's muffled because of the blanket but I can hear the pain in her voice. She's definitely crying.
"Baby, I can't say that I'm not disappointed in you...but this is something so small compared to the other issues we have had to deal with. I am more than prepared to forgive you only if you'll let me help you kick this bad habit." I say, trying once more to get the covers off of her face. This time, they slide off with ease and I see her pale face covered with tears. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are glossy. I wipe away some of the wetness and then kiss her forehead. I can smell the tobacco on her, but not too strongly. It kind of makes me long for a taste. I haven't picked up one of those cancer sticks in years. That doesn't mean I don't WANT to though.
"I'm sorry." She says, leaning up to hug me. We sit there, embracing, for a while. When I pull back she just looks at me. She closes her eyes for a few seconds and then gets up and starts rummaging through her drawers. She hands me two packs of cigarettes. She then goes to her bathroom and after a while she comes out holding what looks like a weed pipe and a small bag full of a green substance I can only guess IS weed.
"Wow...okay.....where the HELL did you get all of this?" I ask.
"Umm.........wellllll.....my sources are anonymous." She says, looking away from my eyes. I see her glance slowly drift toward her wall of polaroids.
(as seen below)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I follow her gaze and look at all of the pictures of her and her friends. She's always been a pretty private person and has about four or five close friends so I know if she was looking at her pictures it must mean it was one of them.
I get up and set the contraband down on her desk. I look at the photos and she sinks deeper down into her bed. I point.
"Was it Bea" I ask.
(Here's Beatrice)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
