Micha felt a little nausea backstage. Maybe he was homesick, missing that dank basement with Sal and baby Ava. Perhaps his best times were spending the wee hours in the morning watching Ava's favorite nursery rhyme videos with her while Sal slept.
Honestly, he didn't think he would miss her so much. He hadn't meant too.
Sure, he'd been lazy. He wasn't exactly dad material. And when he found out he wasn't really Ava's dad after all, he felt as if he could hardly breathe around the baby, anymore. He was so angry with Sal. Why? He wanted some real answers, but she had nothing to say.
It didn't take long to get back with the band. They'd neede him. It felt good to be wanted. Although, he wasn't sure he was cut out for being on the road with a group of misfits.
The lead singer still lived at home and called his mom every night. The drummer smoked too much. Micha could hardly stand to be around him. It was a life of either camping out, staying with distant friends and cheap motel for the three of them, ever so often.
Perhaps, there was a look-alike in another country having the perfect life, but being a musician wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Now, he wanted to spout words about Old MacDonald's farm or the monkey rolling over. Not screaming a heavy metal tune into a microphone that only gave off a bad vibe.
He couldn't enjoy greasy food anymore. He should have just gone to Diago's and cooled off, kept those jobs that kept him running.
But there was a gig to get through, festivals to play. Hopefully, he'd find his way home by the end of the month.
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