Fever Dream

Kalena

The bass faded behind me the farther I walked.

It still thudded — faintly, like a memory — but it couldn't touch me anymore. Not where I was going. Not where I already was.

I didn't cry at first.

I just kept walking. Off the stage. Past the speakers. Down the hill. Through the crowd. No one stopped me — not that they could've. I wasn't there anymore. Not really. I was somewhere between this world and another.

The message replayed in my head over and over.

"Seu pai faleceu. Esta manhã." (your father passed. This morning)

No name. No softness. No warmth. No hello. Just a sharp, efficient sentence, like I was a stranger. Like she was updating an old coworker. Like it was business.

My father is dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Even now, even with everything — the fights, the silence, the way he never said I'm proud of you unless it was about grades — I still couldn't imagine a world where he didn't exist. He was there, looming, judging, always on the edge of my life. A weight I carried without even realizing it most days.

But he was still mine.

And now he wasn't.

I found a quiet patch of dirt behind the trailers. Sat down. Felt the cold bite of desert wind sting the sweat on my back.

My hands were shaking when I texted Ivana.

Come alone. Please. Bring Armani.

They found me in minutes.

I didn't even look up at first. Just stared at the dirt under my nails. A few leftover glitter flakes clung to my arms, a pathetic reminder of the joy I'd felt thirty minutes ago.

"Kal?" Ivana's voice was soft.

I lifted my head. My face didn't feel like it belonged to me.

"I got a message," I said. "From my mom."

They both froze.

I swallowed. "My dad. He... he died. This morning."

Armani gasped. Covered her mouth. Ivana's hand shot out like she wanted to touch me but didn't know where.

"Shit," Armani whispered. "Baby, I'm so—"

"I'm okay," I lied. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Ivana said gently, kneeling in front of me. "And you don't have to be."

I felt my chest clench. "I don't even know what I'm feeling."

"That's okay."

"I hated him. And I didn't. And he hated me. But he was still... mine."

Armani came closer. Sat beside me. "You don't have to justify your grief."

"I didn't even get a call," I whispered. "Just a message. No punctuation. Just a text from a woman who cut me out of her life like I was nothing."

Ivana's eyes shimmered. "You're not nothing."

I shook my head. "It's so fucking stupid. I shouldn't care. They disowned me. They said disgusting things. I shouldn't care."

"But you do," Armani said. "Because you're human. And you loved him. Even when it hurt."

That cracked something open.