Page 36 of Notes About Vodka (Happily Ever After Hangover #1)

Chapter Nineteen

LAURA

"Vodka has a way of blurring the lines between reality and paranoia, turning whispers into shadows that dance just beyond the light."

A few nights later, as I’m getting ready to go on stage at Pianissimo , I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I glance at the screen and see it’s my mom.

I haven’t heard from her in a couple of weeks. Normal. But she’s really good at calling when I’m about to be busy.

She's also the only person I keep my phone’s ringer on for. I never know if her calls are going to be calm or frantic, a result of her paranoid schizophrenia, and I know I need to answer. I step out back to take the call, bracing myself for whatever she might say.

“Mom, what’s up? I’m about to go into work, is everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“They’re watching me, Laura. They’re watching all of us,” she says, her voice trembling with fear.

“Mom, it’s okay. You’re safe. No one is watching you,” I say into the phone, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. But I can hear the panic on the other end of the line, the way her breath comes in short, frantic bursts. It’s like she’s trapped in her own mind, too far gone to hear me.

“You don’t understand, Laura!” she cries, her voice breaking. “They’re everywhere. I can see them watching me through the windows… They’re following me again!”

There’s a rustling noise, like she’s moving around, checking the windows or maybe pacing the room. I can’t see her, but I know her well enough to picture it: her wild eyes darting around, her fingers clutching the phone so tightly her knuckles must be white.

“Mom, listen to me,” I say, trying to cut through the fear in her voice. “There’s no one there. You’re at home, and you’re safe. It’s just the medication making you feel this way.”

She doesn’t seem to hear me. “They’ve put cameras in the walls, Laura. I can hear them talking about me…plotting against me. You have to believe me!”

I feel a lump forming in my throat, my chest tightening with helplessness. “Mom, there are no cameras. No one is plotting against you. Mom, can I speak with Nick?.”

I’ve said this so many times before, but it never seems to help. She’s been like this my entire life… The paranoia comes and goes, but lately, it feels like it’s more here than gone.

“They’re going to take me away!” she shouts, and I can hear the tears in her voice now, the sheer terror. “I don’t want to go, Laura. Please, don’t let them take me!”

I bite my lip, trying to keep my own emotions in check. “No one is taking you anywhere, Mom,” I say softly. “I promise. I’m here. Just…try to take a deep breath, okay? For me.”

There’s a pause, a brief moment of silence on the other end, and I hope—just for a second—that maybe she’s calming down.

But then she starts again, her voice a whisper, filled with dread.

“ They’re outside right now. I can see their shadows moving.

You have to come here, Laura. You have to help me. ”

Tears spill down my cheeks as I lean against the counter at the back of the Pianissimo , feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, okay? First thing in the morning.

But for now, you need to try and get some rest. Can you do that for me?

And also, where’s Nick, mama? Can you help find him for me?

I need to speak to step-daddy, okay?” I say sweetly, hoping mom calms down a little if I remind her I’m still her little girl that needs her help.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, sounding so small, so scared. “I’m so scared, Laura.”

“I know, Mom,” I say, my voice breaking. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’m right here with you. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

She doesn’t respond, but I can hear her breathing, slow and unsteady. I stay on the line, listening to her, wishing I could reach through the phone and hold her, wishing I could make it all go away. But all I can do is listen and hope that somehow, that’s enough.

Tears well up in my eyes as I just wait for my mom to speak.

Suddenly, Tony sidles up next to me, a greasy smile on his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, his eyes lingering on my tear-streaked cheeks. “You look like you could use some cheering up. I could make it better, you know,” he adds with a smirk, his hand reaching out to touch my arm.

I flinch, pulling away, disgust twisting in my stomach. Before I can find my voice to tell him to back off, Val steps in, his expression dark and hard.

“Tony, get lost,” Val says sharply. “She doesn’t need your crap. ”

Tony’s smile falters, and his eyes narrow. “Just trying to help,” he mutters, but there’s a sneer in his tone. He gives me one last, lingering look before slinking away, his presence leaving a greasy residue on the air.

The moment he’s gone, I collapse into Val’s arms, my sobs coming hard and fast. I don’t tell him about my mom—I can’t. I just bury my face in his chest, letting the tears flow, and he holds me tight, his embrace strong and steady, his silence the only comfort I need.

After a while, Val gently suggests we leave. “Let’s go to our favorite bar,” he says softly, brushing a tear from my cheek. “You need a break, Laura. I’ll go tell Dante there’s an emergency and you can’t go on stage.”

I nod, but my heart isn’t in it. “I want to,” I reply, my voice shaky. “But I need to get home. I need to call Skip.”

Val raises an eyebrow, concerned. “Why Skip?”

"Skip’s been with me forever,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“He just...knows what to do. He’s always been there when things get tough.

I don’t know what I’d do without him.” I pause, thinking about Rhea.

“I’d call Rhea, but... she gets upset when things get like this.

It’s too much for her. She doesn’t handle it well, and I don’t want to pull her into it again. ”

“Ok, I’ll leave it for now,” Val nods, understanding in his eyes. “But, I want to know the rest later after you calm down. Alright, let’s get you home. You do what you need to do.”

I give him a grateful smile, feeling a small measure of relief that, at least for now, I’m not alone in this.

“I wish I just knew how to explain it to you,” I mumble to him.

“What do you mean?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face.

“It’s family stuff, Val. I don’t know how to explain. So, let me run and be the one to talk to Dante. I need to get out of here. ”

“Hang on, are you on that damned scooter of yours?” Val asks.

“Obviously, it’s the only vehicle I own,” I tell him.

“Well, let me at least drive you. You are still shaking. And I’ll go with you to talk to Dante.”

“Okay,” I look into his dark brown eyes, “okay.”

On the way home, I text my cousin James while Val is driving and let him know about my mom’s recent phone call. We locked my scooter up for the night. It would really suck if it was stolen just because my boyfriend didn’t want me to drive it for the 10-minutes it takes to scoot home.

Me: J, what do I do about mom? Her symptoms are getting worse

James: I think you are going to have to let your step-father handle things

James: Or call your aunt…

Me: Why don’t you call her, she’s your mom…

James: Same reason we all avoid calling her…

James: Anyways Laura, don’t go speeding up to New Haven

James: Relax, there’s nothing you can do if she won’t help herself. Besides, there is nothing you can do tonight, go in the morning.

Me: You’re right

At home, Val invites himself inside, and I can't help but smile at his boldness. Skipper walks in from our patio, smelling fresh from the weed he just smoked and looking satiated with the lingering traces of last night's boytoy evidenced in his disheveled appearance.

Half Latin, half Caucasian, Skipper was blessed with height as well as beautiful caramel skin and bright blue eyes. Even hungover, he’s still beautiful.

“Hey, Laura. Val, glad you came over, too!” Skipper says, his eyes a bit glazed but friendly. “You two need a hit of this,” he offers, holding out a joint.

I laugh. “Maybe later, Skip. Val and I are just going to relax for a bit.”

“Suit yourselves, this would help with that relaxing,” he says, plopping down on the couch and taking another drag. The room fills with the earthy, sweet scent of marijuana.

We settle in, and Val looks around our cozy, slightly chaotic living room. There are mismatched pillows on the couch, a stack of textbooks on the coffee table, and a few potted plants that Skipper insists help with the vibe.

“So, are you going to tell me what has you all upset, Laura?” Skip asks as he joins us in the living room, relaxing in an overly huge red arm chair.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I reply.

“Come on, does it have something to do with…”

“Skipper, just drop it already. I came home early so I wouldn’t have to think.” I should feel bad for snapping at Skip, but I don’t. I’m mentally exhausted.

Val strokes my back. “Hey, it’s okay. Skip, why don’t you go make us one to share. ”

“Yeah, sure thing, Val,” Skipper says as he gets up and heads to his room.

Val pulls me into his side, “I really wish you would talk, I don’t like this clammed up Laura. But I get it, when you are ready, I have a really good ear for listening.”

“Thanks, honey,” I say as I look into his dark brown eyes.

“Honey?”

“Yeah, it’s a Southern thing.”

“Oh, I know, I just didn’t expect to hear you call me that.”

“Do you not like it?”

“Laura baby, I love it. I’ll be your honey and you can be my honeybee.”

“Stop it, you are so silly.” I gently slap Val’s chest.

Skip comes back in the room at that moment, grinning ear to ear as he waves a big, fat doobie in our faces. “Come on, Laura, let’s really relax.”

“Fine,” I say as I reach for the joint.

Lighting it, I take in a long, slow drag. Immediately, the weed relaxes the muscles in my back, calms down my hurried mind. I sigh, passing the joint off to Val.

We spend the next several minutes smoking as we argue about what we want to watch on TV.