“Get it together, Hagan. You’re a fucking adult,” I grumble.
I groan under my breath, tapping the trackpad to wake my laptop, then shift my focus to the next topic—hallucinations.
The results are a letdown compared to the possibly malevolent orgasm ghost still haunting my frontal lobe.
Drugs.
Certain plants.
Sleep deprivation.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
But schizophrenia?
My pulse stutters as I click the link.
Schizophrenia can be hereditary. My mother … she never had a diagnosis. But she had episodes. They weren’t frightening. Not like the descriptions I’m reading now. Hers were … softer.
She spoke to my grandmother, who died before I was born, like they’d just caught up over coffee that morning. She’d pass along messages from Gram, her eyes glowing with quiet joy.
My father and I never questioned it. It was harmless and it made her happy. Who were we to take that away from her?
My mother was fucking magical.
Some days, I miss her so much it hurts to breathe.
I suck in air through my teeth, sidestepping the old ache that never quite left after she died.
There’s only one person who can help me sift through the shit in my head.
Dad.
Reluctantly, I grab my phone and press the call button, chewing the inside of my cheek while it rings.
Just as I decide to end the call, his voice crackles through the speaker.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty! How are things in the mountains? Have you seen any Bigfoots yet?”
I didn’t realize until this very second how much I miss my dad and his terrible sense of humor. I hate being this far away from him. Even though he goes out with friends regularly, he’s still alone. But he knew how miserable I was at my old job, and he fully supported my move.
We grew closer after my mom died, so I’m bracing myself for how he might react.
“Hey, Dad. I hope I didn’t wake you up. How are you? Are you eating enough?”
I need to know he’s okay. I need him to be happy and healthy. I just … need him to be around as long as possible.
“Of course you didn’t wake me up. You and me? We’re night owls, SB.” His voice is warm and teasing. “And yes,Mother, I’ve been eating, but mostly at the club with Bill and Julie. I know I should eat at home more, but I’m still adjusting to living in this house alone. So, when they go out, I go out.”
Shit, ripping my heart out and stomping on it would’ve hurt less.
“No, I get it, Dad. Just promise me you’ll have a salad or two this week to balance out all the fried food and beer. Okay?”
“Fine, salads with bacon and fried chicken for dinner tomorrow night!”
His booming laugh is so loud that I move the phone away from my ear.
“So, what’s up, princess? You never call this late unless something’s wrong.”
