CHAPTER ONE: Introduction

Emerson sat in the passenger seat of her mother's car, casually watching the New York scenery pass her by. The route was familiar to her by now and she took pleasure in watching the signs and buildings she recognized flash her by. Her mother, on the other hand, only looked ahead of her. 'Not like that's unusual,' she thought.

Emerson Adler had always felt like a stranger to her mother. Sure, she had known the woman for seventeen years, (which was the entirety of her life) but instances like this reminded her just how strained her relationship with her mother really was. Not that she didn't try to work on it, they both did. However, trying was sometimes just as disappointing as not trying.

"So, I..uh..got that prompt for my history class.." Emerson said, trying to ease some of the tension in the car.

"Oh?" Her mother said questionably. Emerson could tell she was not interested, but at least she had responded.

"Yeah," she continued, shifting away from the window and toward the middle of the car. "We have to argue whether women's lives improved or not from the 1920s to the 1950s." She mother's eyebrows lifted slightly, a sign she was at least a little interested now.

"You get to choose?"

"Yeah… Supposed to be a persuasive essay I guess," Emerson shrugged.

"When's it due?" She asked while turning the car. Emerson could tell that they were close to home.

"By the end of the month," Emerson responded quickly.

"What's it out of?" Her mother pulled to a parking structure by their apartment.

"A hundred points. Nothing too big, but.." Emerson shrugged, not really sure what to say.

"Better get it done then," her mother fished, parking the car. Emerson only nodded her head, not really wanting the conversation to go anywhere further than it had already gone. She grabbed her bag from her seat and closed the car door, walking up the steps to her family's apartment. She heard her mother behind her lock the car and follow her up the steps.

"Is Dad home?" Emerson asked without looking back.

"Yes," her mother replied in a monotone voice.

Internally, Emerson sighed with relief. Her mother and she could really only coexist if her father was there. He kept the two at bay, offered topics of conversation when awkward silence presented itself. He was really the glue that kept her small family together. Knowing he was home waiting for them lifted a little bit of the car-ride anxiety from her shoulders.

She finally reached her family's door, opening it and holding it for her mother. When she passed through, Emerson closed it again and walked to her right, entering the kitchen. Setting her stuff on the small kitchen table, she found her way to the fridge, grabbing a can of soda and cracking it open. Before she could even take a sip, something small and fuzzy touched her leg, almost making her jump. Looking down, she was relieved to see the familiar face.

"Bug, I almost had a heart attack," she bent down to her furry friend, patting his head first before scooping up the small kitten. "Who would be here to sneak you table scraps if I died, huh?" She asked sarcastically. The black and white cat didn't respond, only pressing himself further into her arms for warmth. Emerson slightly chuckled, taking sip of her drink and carrying Bug with her to her room. She placed him on top of her bed, making sure to place him on a spot where there were plenty of blankets for him to lay on. Bug stretched his body, releasing a silent yawn and made himself comfortable on Emerson's bed. She shook her head at the cat's behavior. 'What I wouldn't give to have your life, Bug.'

She went to her window, the one connected to a fire escape, and opened it slightly, hoping to get some airflow into her stuffy room. She looked out the window a bit, admiring her view. She really did love New York, arguably one of the most famous states in the country. She knew there were probably many beautiful places out there, but to her, none of them could compare to her own home state. She had always felt a weird sense of acceptance living in the land where dreams were made. There was always something to be done, always adventures to be had and journeys to take here. The thought of not living in New York almost terrified her.

Behind her, she heard two swift knocks on her already opened door, waking her up from her thoughts. She turned and saw her father, wearing his almost always present goofy grin.

"I was wondering where my Cuddle Bug went," he said, making his way to the bed where the cat slept, "but now I see I've been betrayed," he finished.

"I've tried telling you I'm his favorite," Emerson said, watching her father pet the cat, making him purr softly.

"How was school?" he asked, changing the topic.

"Good," she replied, putting her drink down on the desk next to the window. "Kevin finally gave us our essay prompts," She said.

"So I heard," he said. "I find it odd you call almost call of your teachers by their first names," he narrowed his eyes with a hint of confusion, however he didn't look at her..

"You find anything a person does odd," emerson pointed out, crossing her arms on her chest.

"Guess I choose the right profession then," he said, finally looking at her to wink. She only responded by rolling her eyes, not trying to hide the smile inching its way to her face.

Her father was a psychologist. When he was young, he went to a local community college with an undeclared major. It was there, he always told her, that he discovered his fascination with the human mind; how it works the way it does and such. Although he had told her that he used to do lab research and run his own experiments, he now mainly focused on child psychology, and was the head psychologist on a school psychology team. She never knew why he stopped his experiments; the way he would talk about that, she could tell he really loves doing it. His eyes would light up, his face would wrinkle around his eyes and lips and he would smile big. Of course, she could tell he was happy with the job he had now, but she also knew it wasn't the same for him.

"I was thinking of heading over to Lucy's to brainstorm on the prompt. Would that be cool?" Emerson asked casually, trying to stop the overflowing thoughts in her brain.

"Totally radical, Em!" Her father said, imitating a stereotypical "surfer-dude" voice. She could tell he was trying to make her laugh, he was always doing that.

"How are we related?" Emerson asked bluntly, using all the force she had in her not to chuckle. Suddenly, a voice from across the apartment caught both of their attentions.

"Ryan, your work phone is ringing!" her mother said in a tone Emerson swore was specifically reserved for mothers. Even though the voice wasn't directed toward her, she could feel the six-years-old version of her coward inside of her.

"Well," her father said, giving Bug one last stroke before getting up. "Duty calls."

"Go save the children," Emerson said enthusiastically, gesturing toward the door and bowing her head slightly. The two smiled at each other before her father walked out. Emerson found her drink on the desk again and brought it to her lips, chugging half of it. As she drank, she walked over toward her bed, then, when finished, she put the half empty can down on her bedside table. Her blanket layed haphazardly on her bed, since she saw no reason to make it in the morning; she was only going to get back in it, so why bother? She took off her sneakers, resting them next to the bed, and slipped into her unmade bed, burrowing herself into the comfort of her blankets and pillows.

"Whadda say Bug? How 'bout a quick cat nap?" Bug, having been disturbed from his resting place by Emerson's feet, stretched his body before lazily, then walked enthusiastically up towards her arms. He quickly plopped himself down in the crevice between her arm and her side.

"Who am I kidding? You're a pro at naps," Emerson said quietly chuckled. Taking her phone out of her pocket, she set a timer for one hour. Her phone was placed on the table beside her drink. She pet the top of Bug's head, hearing and feeling his gentle purr. The let the soft mewls of Bug loll her to dreamless sleep.