I'd been with my mother for about a week and a half now and I was constantly being reminded of why I'd chosen to live in New York with Dad up until now.  Just by her merely walking into the room, I became irritated.  She always had some comment; some reminder.  As she shuffled around the kitchen before work, I tried to focus on my laptop screen, attempting to decipher my pre-calculus work.  Khan Academy was not helping.

"There's dishes in your room," she commented as she shoved a St Croix into her lunch box.

"I know," I grumbled, trying to keep my attitude under control, something she constantly reminded me of.

"Don't forget the maid is coming at ten," she said as she zipped up the box.

"Mmmhmm," I replied, my brain getting more and more overwhelmed.  Could she just leave already?

"Excuse me?" she prompted me.  I sighed loudly.  Mom was a stickler about answering adults with words, not sounds or ignoring.

"Okay, Mom," I tried to muster respectfully.  I glanced her way momentarily, trying to be chill.  But, like my dad, I have no chill whatsoever.  She let a warning stare linger as she slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her work bag.

"I'll be home around seven," she said.  "Don't burn the apartment building down."

Despite our iciness, she still kissed me on the temple on the way out.  I breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed.  After living in a house of five, sometimes six people, having a whole apartment to myself was bliss.  I could blast my music without any complaining and not have to worry about a small child storming in on my peaceful time.

I tried to get back to work, listening to an instructor drone on about polynomials, but after about five minutes I gave up.  I closed my laptop and went for the fridge.  I wasn't much of a breakfast eater, but I found a bottle of orange juice and poured a glass.  I chugged some back and then spit it into the sink.  Pulp.  Disgusting!  I'd told Mom to buy the no pulp kind but, as usual, she didn't listen.

I let out a loud growl as I poured out the rest and filled it with water.  I rinsed out my mouth, now even more irritated.  No matter what choices I seemed to make in my life, I ended up disappointing someone and hating everything.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table, where I'd placed it so I wouldn't have any distractions.  That seemed to have fallen off the wayside, however.  I crossed the room and picked up my iPhone, finding a message from Elliott.  I unlocked it and found a picture of Alex, proudly holding up two trees.  As I looked closely and realized it must be her family tree project.  She had a goofy grin on her face; classic Alex.  She was so proud of herself.

Awww it looks great!  Tell her awesome job!

Have time for FT?  She wants to show you.

I opened FaceTime on my phone and dialed Elliott.  A few moments later, Alex's forehead and eyes appeared on my screen.  I instantly teared up, not realizing how much I missed the kid.

"Hi, Joey!" she greeted me happily, the screen bouncing as she carried me around.

"Hey, munchkin!" I grinned like a fool, pushing my tears back down.  

"Wanna see my family trees?" she asked excitedly as she carried me to the kitchen table.

"Of course," I told her, getting comfy on the couch.  I just listened as she first told me all about her biological family tree, telling me about her parents and grandparents.  She then went onto her adopted tree.  There was Dad, Pippa, Elliott, me, Alex and Jack.  Our patch-worked, imperfect little family.  The family that annoyed me but that I loved wholeheartedly.

"You did a great job," I told her.  "Is that what you're going to say to your class?"

"Uh-huh," she confirmed.  "I'm gonna show them tomorrow.  And Grandma and Grampa are gonna come, and they're gonna have lunch with me at school."

"That sounds really special," I told her.  "Are you nervous about talking in front of your class?"

"Uh-uh," she shook her head.  "Elliott practiced with me and I showed Mom and Dad too.  I'm very prepared."

"You most certainly are," I agreed.  Even though we weren't biologically related, it seemed we were two peas in a pod.  Public speaking had never bothered me.  I loved when the whole class had to listen to me.

"Joey, when are you coming home?" she asked me, carrying me to the couch.  I heard the sound of Elliott tickling Jack in the background.  He laughed and screeched in protest.  Those sounds used to drive me crazy.  I could never get a moment of peace.

"I'll be back next week," I assured her.  "For Mom and Dad's wedding.  And we'll be all dressed up together and dance all night!"

"Yay!" she exclaimed, clearly tickled to see me again.  "Then we'll be for real sisters."

"We've always been for real sisters," I told her.  I'd always felt protective of her and wanted the best for her.

"Are you gonna stay?" she asked, tugging on my heartstrings.

"I..." I stumbled.  "I don't know, munchkin."

"But why?" she asked innocently.  "Don't you wanna be with me?"

"Of course," I assured her.  "It's just...when you get a little older...when you're a teenager things get more complicated."

It seemed like a crap-out answer, and it was.  What was so bad about living with Dad?  Sure, having famous parents complicated things.  I messed up and it was all over social media.  Having little siblings could be exhausting, and so could living with an ex and his mother, who happened to be marrying your own father.  It sounded like an episode of Jerry Springer.  Being out of the spotlight in Chicago was nice, but I missed my family terribly.  I missed New York and my friends.

"Elliott says he misses you soooo much," she sing-songed mischievously. I grinned as I witnessed the phone being wrestled away from my little sister.  Moments later, Elliott's embarrassed face appeared on screen.

"Rascal," he rubbed at the back of his head as he walked down the hall.  "Sorry about that."

I grinned again and felt my face blush a little.  Did he really miss me?  He'd been the one that had broken up with me, after all.  He was the one living a new life on Long Island.  How would he have time to miss me amid all his classes, partying, and girls, girls, girls?

"It's okay," I told him, readjusting my legs on the couch.  "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said as he shut the door to his room.  "School's keeping me pretty busy."

"I bet," I said, feeling more melancholy.  I wondered what my life would be like when I went to college.  Where would I go?  Would I stay close by or move across the country?  Would I miss Elliott like I did now?

There was a silence, and it seemed like everything we'd left unsaid filled up the vast space between us.

"Jack always asks for you at bedtime, you know," he told me.  I felt my heart ache, thinking of little Jack.  First he'd lost his parents and now both his oldest siblings were out of the house most of the time.  He'd just been getting used to his new life and I'd walked out on him.

"Are you trying to make me feel like shit?" I accused him, suddenly feeling bombarded it.  Alex missing me.  Jack missing me.  Elliott missing me?

"It's not always about you," he told me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I spat back.

He sighed loudly, as if he didn't have the energy to explain it to me.  "You know, a lot of people don't have the luxury of family who loves them no matter what.  Do you know how lucky you are?"

Guilt stabbed at my heart, but also defensiveness.  Sure, I never wanted for anything and I had three parents who adored me.  That didn't make my life not hard.  Not many kids had to deal with their life being on display to the world.  It wasn't my choice.

"Of course I do," I countered.  "But life isn't all peaches and roses."

He let out an annoyed sigh again.  "But wasn't it?  You have a great home, friends, school."

"Past tense," I reminded him.  Did he forget how it had all gone to shit when the soccer team got busted?  Everyone hated me.

"Your life isn't over," he said, his face serious.  "You still have your family.  Your friends will get over it.  You still have..."

He trailed off and ran his hand over his short hair again.

"What?" I prompted him.  Was he going to say him?

"Nothing," he mumbled.  "Just...when you're back for the wedding, just think about what you're missing when you're gone.  Think about what we're all missing."

I opened my mouth to say something clever, but I couldn't think of anything.

"I better go," he said abruptly.  "I'll see you soon."

He hung up before I was able to respond.  I removed the phone from my ear and just stared at it for a moment, then tucked my arms around myself.  Was he implying I was being selfish for wanting to get a little control back over my life?  For wanting to escape the magnifying glass of New York City, my father's kingdom?  I was finally just Joey again.  Why was that selfish?

I let myself collapse onto my back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it would have the answer.  Ceiling gods, how do I know what the right thing is?  How can I fit into society as myself when society won't let me just be an anonymous regular teenager?

I shut my eyes and let the heavy feeling take over.  I knew enough about life that there was no easy answer.