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“I can’t diagnose you, but my educated guess would be an audio processing issue and ADHD.”

Morgan stared at him.

“What?”Harvey asked.

“It’s just hearing you say that hit me like a bolt of thunder.”

“You mean lightning?”

“See, I do have a learning disorder,” she said.“All this time, I thought I had a hard time in school because I drank myself stupid.”

Morgan floated out of that meeting with happy tears in her eyes.She wanted to sing joyfully and hug the first person she saw, but she changed her mind when she got on the elevator with a slovenly guy with hair coming out of his ears.

Morgan planned to get formally diagnosed, then find the money to go back to school, earn her bachelor’s degree, and become a substance abuse counselor.She tried hard to save money, but her car died, her refrigerator broke, and her job didn’t pay enough for her to work less and go back to school.

As tough as these obstacles were, there was one thing that stood in Morgan’s way more than money: her fear of failing.From her disastrous years in school to all the times she was drunk at important family events, Morgan couldn’t get the look of disappointment on her mother’s face erased from her mind.If she had gone back to school to get her degree only to drop out again, she would have gotten her mom’s hopes up for nothing.

School wasn’t the only thing Morgan hadn’t been able to follow through with.The first time she tried to get sober, she thought she could do it on her own.That didn’t work.The next time, she took Charlie’s advice and went into therapy.This would be the first time she spoke to anyone about her past mistakes.Morgan was relieved that things were progressing slowly and the therapist hadn’t pushed her out of her comfort zone.Until two months later, when her therapist started the session a little differently.

“I’ve been seeing you for a while and noticed we haven’t yet delved into why you first began drinking,” the therapist said.“Is it possible that you were trying to numb the feelings of abandonment of a father you barely remembered?”

Morgan clasped her hands together for a minute, then began cracking her knuckles.

“I know this is difficult,” the therapist said, “but it will help you if we explore how not having a male role model in your life has affected you.”

“I don’t need to talk about it,” Morgan said.

“From what you’ve already told me, there are some things we should go deeper on that will help you work through old trauma.”

“I don’t want to talk about my father,” Morgan said sharply.

Morgan finished the session with clenched teeth.When the hour was over, she headed to the nearest bar.

After a brief slip, Morgan returned to sobriety with a vengeance.She threw herself into AA, relied on her sponsor, and went to conferences as often as she could.AA became a new addiction—one she could thrive on.

Sobriety was Morgan’s first goal, and her second was to get a job where the people she worked with appreciated her.She accomplished that when she was hired at Bloomington’s Mortuary.When Morgan applied, the competition was far from fierce, so having been arrested for a DUI didn’t seem to bother her soon-to-be employer.

“The job is yours as long as you can stay off Facebook long enough to reorder embalming fluid,” her boss Carl said during the interview.“With our last employee, we got so backed up we had to put up a sign for two weeks that said,If deceased, drive to Samson’s Mortuary.”

Morgan liked the job, but even more, she liked the security that there would always be dead people, so being laid off for lack of work wasn’t likely.Her responsibilities mainly consisted of paying vendors and overseeing the stock of coffins and urns.She made a deal with Carl that she could hide in the back when a funeral took place.She didn’t want to deal with mourners; sad people depressed her.

Morgan’s plane landed back in Oregon half an hour early, so it was only ten p.m.when she pulled up to her apartment with Albert in tow.Her building, the color of curdled milk, boasted an oversized sign that said Lake Oswego’s Luxury Living.The only factual words in that sign were Lake Oswego.

Morgan could have afforded to live in an apartment with all the amenities in an area where she wouldn’t have felt safe, but she chose a crappy building in a nicer neighborhood.A building where elderly men in their shortie pajamas, knee socks, and crocs sunbathed next to the pool.A pool that had water the color of wet cardboard and smelled like a gaggle of teenage boys’ sneakers.Morgan worried that if she even dipped a single toe in that pool, it would fall off, which meant she’d have to trash her collection of flip-flops.

She headed down the ramp into the underground parking structure and backed into her spot, trying not to scrape her car on the yellow pole again.When she opened her car door, Albert sprinted like a kid getting out of school for the summer.

“Albert, wait!”Morgan yelled as she grabbed him and hoisted him into her arms.He was much heavier than he looked.

Albert had been Carla’s constant companion for years, so the warmth of his fur against Morgan’s chest made her think about her mother and how much she had already missed her.She balanced the little sausage in her arms while reaching for her apartment key in her purse.Albert’s juicy tongue slid from her chin to her nose as if he knew she was now his meal ticket.

Albert ran inside Morgan’s apartment like he had always lived there.She couldn’t help smiling; it would be nice having the company.After all the partying she’d done in her youth, the quieter life she led now suited her, but at times it could be lonely.Her friends were mainly a few women from her program, most of whom were married.Morgan wasn’t interested in dating because she had been prone to being with the wrong men; the right ones didn’t want her.

Albert wandered into the living room.Immediately, his hackles raised as he stuck his nose under the couch.She now knew exactly where her cat, Brigitta, was.

“You’ll get used to our guest, Brigitta,” Morgan called out.“But for now, I’ll protect you.”She picked up Albert, brought him into her bedroom, and closed the door.

Then she picked up her phone and called her boss.“Hi, Carl, it’s Morgan.”