Did I just imagine that I took it up to Caitlyn’s room and actually left it there in the Writing Room? Am I really that tired? It’s possible, I guess. That’s the only thing I can come up with, or, at best, I went upstairs to Caitlyn’s room and forgot to bring the necklace with me, but that adds to a whole other problem that I can’t ignore; I really might be starting to lose it. The lack of sleep, the visions. I’m not only seeing things that aren’t there, I’m hallucinating actions that I’m not really taking. This can’t be simple, run-of-the-mill processing of grief, and if it keeps up, I’m going to have to talk to someone. I know there’s no shame in it. Under the circumstances, it’s understandable, but it just adds another level of difficulty to everything. I suppose I can try to keep it a secret from Caitlyn and go to therapy sessions while she’s at school, but I don’t want to sneak around or lie to her when I want her to be honest. Merely thinking about it is giving me a headache and I’m not there, yet. I’m simply allowing myself that option if this keeps up.

Last night, I slept on the couch, again. I got some sleep but only three or four hours. That chapter that I wanted to finish before going to bed? Yeah, that didn’t happen. Not even close. Instead, I crashed on the couch, lights on, thinking about the necklace.

Caitlyn walks into the kitchen, dressed and ready for school.

“G’morning, pumpkin. How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” she replies, sliding into the alcove.

“I’ve got scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. You want juice or milk?”

“Juice, please.”

“You got it.”

I pour her a cup from the fridge and set it on the table.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I bring our plates over from the counter by the stove and sit across from her.

“Listen,” I say, scraping some butter across a wedge of toast. “That necklace you left on my computer? I really appreciate it, but why did you leave it there for me to find?”

She bites off the end of a strip of bacon. “I didn’t leave it there. It was my friend. She said you were sad about losing Mom’s ring. She said you could have the necklace and wear it like Mom’s ring.”

She’s making things up, again, but how can I be upset? She’s trying to do a nice thing. I have no problem letting this one slide.

“Well, you can tell your friend that’s very sweet, but I’ll be okay,” I say with a knowing nod. “She can have the necklace back.”

Caitlyn just munches her bacon and takes a sip of juice.