Menorca

How long can you hold your breath?

I think I can hold mine for about... 3 minutes,

and that's without any tricks,

no fancy breathing, no practice.

I can hold my breath while moving,

which is very difficult.

Most people have to remain perfectly still,

but I can do it anytime,

under any circumstances.

Maybe there's something wrong with me.

Maybe I have big lungs.

No one has ever asked,

and you're the first person I've ever told.

It's my only trick.

It's never served any purpose

in the outside world,

but for me it's always useful.

And the best thing is it feels so good

when you're done.

What time is it?

It's my husband and kid.

Okay, you got to go!

Get out!

Augh!

Don't get dressed, you idiot!

Get out!

Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh, no.

And there it is,

another satisfying, fulfilling day.

Mom, I'm home!

Fuck me.

How quickly things can change.

One instant you think you've got your bearings,

you know where everything is,

and not just just talking about your emotional bearings,

I'm talking about where you're at on the map.

Take for instance our recent family trip to Spain.

I looked at the map a single time,

and then just followed my gut.

But these things are deceptive.

Your instincts might change and leave you wondering

if you ever knew anything at all.

And it's really hard to stay sharp

at anything when you're stuck at home.

Mom!

Come on, Mom, hurry up.

Back the other way. Get the ball, guys,

keep it going, keep it going.

All right, come on, go get it.

Of all the horrors a young mother must endure,

kids soccer practice must surely be the worst.

But like everything,

there's nothing really to complain about

because there's nothing really going on.

Over this way.

Over this way, guys.

Guys, bring it back this way.

Over here.

There you go.

And the only thing worse than sports for kids

is sports for adults,

like when your husband is the coach.

That's right, fuck head,

you know I'm up to something, don't you?

You're just not quite sure what it is yet.

Move the ball, move the ball.

I'm about to make a big life change here.

I know it's early in my life

and the story for such a brash move,

but what the hell.

Come on, Blake!

You're fuckin' doing it!

See that bitch over there?

Knock it down, knock it down!

That is Janice Jeworski.

This way! You're going the wrong way!

She leaves her keys in her van every week

because she's a dolt.

Who is that? Is that on your team?

I'm about to take advantage of that.

Get the ball, sweetie.

Come on!

Let's go, pick it up!

Woo!

This way.

I'm not the best mother,

I'm willing to admit that much,

but life is short,

and I've got a lot of shit to do.

I just need to get away from all this right now.

I'll bring Janice's van back,

some day... maybe.

Come on, George, let's go buddy.

I gotta admit

It's not the first time

I've done something like this,

but I'm going to make this one the best.

Now if only I had someone to share my joy with.

Although he hasn't called,

there's a good chance that by now,

after only an hour,

Aaron has already cancelled my credit card.

I knew this moment was coming,

and I'm prepared for at least a couple of days.

But will a couple of days do the trick?

Never swim alone.

It's too freakin' dangerous

and God knows what will happen to you,

there's lots of ass rape-y fish out there.

See, the problem is

you might not know how deep the water is

or where the big drop off is.

And who knows what will happen

when you reach the big drop off.

You might have to think for yourself for a second.

So part of you,

just a tiny part in the back of your mind,

starts looking for the big drop off,

but there's no sign of it,

and swimming is so damn refreshing

you begin to forget all those warnings

about the drop off.

And then, you start to wonder

if there is a drop off.

Like, how far am I gonna have to walk

before I can't touch the bottom anymore?

And what if you're right?

Maybe there just never is any point

where you reach the big drop off.

What then?

What's so special about you?

Why does there have to be anything special?

Got anymore of those cigarettes?

Half a pack.

That's special.

If you say so.

Get in.

Why should I?

You tell me, you're the hitchhiker.

What's so special about you?

Just get in.

No.

No?

No. Are you serious?

I'm serious, I'm not getting in.

Oh, come on.

All right, all right, I will tell you,

just get in!

Nope.

Asshole, get in the car!

No way.

Damn it.

The van is stolen.

I've abandoned my family

and I plan on drinking myself

into a coma tonight.

You see... you are special.

On the very top of the long list

of things a parent is now forbidden to do

with her child are two things.

The first is called screen time,

which used to be called television,

but now encompasses everything,

including phones and tablets,

The second thing is smoking, of course.

You can yell at your kids,

pressure them into feelings

of constant inadequacy.

Hell, even the odd spank

seems to be acceptable now.

But since we all know it's impossible to parent

without the babysitting assistance of an iPad,

you better, not, ever, smoke.

And we're not talking about an illegal substance,

just good old-fashioned tobacco,

the stuff that's built economies,

enslaved races

and spawned great conversations forever,

but whatever.

Fuck!

Hello.

Claire, listen.

I'm okay, Aaron.

I am sorry.

I just, I needed to get away for a bit.

Claire, Claire just, look, I don't care.

Okay.

I said it a thousand times before...

it doesn't matter.

I'm sorry, Aaron, I'm stuck a motel out of town.

I need you to come pick me up.

I'll stop you right there.

There's somebody here that wants to say something to you.

Are you sure?

Mom.

Hi sweetheart.

Don't come back here.

Baby, no.

No, I don't want this anymore... no more.

Don't you wish we could just see each other right now?