Hope for the Hopeless [Jemily]

Catastrophe and Cure

July 17, 1995
— Emily's POV
"Emily, come down here please!" I groaned when I heard my mother calling me from downstairs.

I yelled back, "What is it?!" There was no response. I hated that. Why not just answer when I ask what you need me for? I slinked out of bed and trudged downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and asked, "Yes?"

"Get dressed we're going out."

"Ugh. What for?!"

She blankly answered me as she continued to chop up vegetables, "It shouldn't matter 'what for,' it's 3:30 and you've been lying in bed all day."

"My bed is the only thing that understands me."

She rolled her eyes, "Cute, Emily." Our home chef was quickly called over to the kitchen, "Olive, would you mind finishing this for me? Merci." Mother is so polite to everyone except me.

I sighed and crossed my arms, "I can't get dressed until I know what we're doing."

She stepped over to me and started fixing my hair as she explained, "There's an event at the Embassy tonight and we're invited. And you're going. I want to see you poised and polite this evening, we'll be meeting several of my colleagues."

"You mean I can't talk about what a back-stabber you really are?"

"Emily!"

"Is that a no?"

She avoided eye contact and shooed me upstairs, "Just go get dressed." I gave her the finger when she turned around before heading back up to the second floor. Paris is such a beautiful city in the summertime and I've been barred from enjoying any of it. Mother took one day, one goddamn day, to let me explore the city. But now I have to be accompanied by one of her security goons anytime I wanna leave our house. And she wonders why I sit in bed all day. I heard a knock on my door as I was in the middle of getting dressed.

"Emily?" It sounded like Joseph, my chauffeur and the only member of my mom's staff that I could tolerate. He was an older guy, in his 50s or so, and he had no children. He's been treating me like his own since I was 4 years old.

I slid on the floor as I rushed to let him in, "Hold on! Hold on!" I opened it up and immediately wrapped him in a hug, "Joey!"

He chuckled, "Hi Emily! I trust you're getting ready for this evening?"

I groaned to him, "Against my will. Do I really have to go?"

"Your mother is persistent, I'm afraid."

"Gross. Will you at least be there?"

"Have I ever left your side?"

"Well you've been on 'vacation' for the last 2 wee—"

"Don't answer that." I giggled and moved to sit on the edge of my bed.

"How was Italy?"

Joseph leaned against my doorframe and swooned, "As beautiful as ever."

I sighed, "I miss it." I put my head down and quietly mumbled, "How's uh... How's Dad?" When Mother and I left Italy last year, she separated from my father. I've had minimal contact with him since then, because he's also on active duty. Saying it's been hard is an understatement, although I have to admit my father was far from perfect. It was just an awkward situation I guess.

"He's good, he's good."

"Has he asked about me?"

"On occasion. He wishes he could be here."