Chapter 1 - Emma

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Manhattan, 2015

I'm sitting in my apartment, flicking through my history book. My dad, ecstatic at the thought that I'm learning about dinosaurs, has decided to give me a lecture, which I am doing a great job of ignoring. My mom, who is setting a perfect example for me, is reading a copy of this month's Vogue. She works for some new up-and-coming designer, and she is head of some department at the moment. My dad is a paleontologist, and the only time he ever really took interest in my mother's job was when she nearly got transferred to Paris.

Actually, come to think of it, my parents have been on a roller coaster since they met. It started when they met just over twenty years ago, and then they broke up, and they got back together. I still can't understand if they were on a break or not, all I know is following a drunken one-night stand, my mother got pregnant, and nine months later, I showed up.

It worked out pretty good for a while, being "friends who had a kid" until Mom got fired from Ralph Lauren and almost moved to Paris to work for the Louis Vuitton company, and Dad convinced her to stay in New York. Because of job demands though, she had to return to France in 18 months, so they got married a year later, and made the move together. We stayed in France until I was five, and when Mom's father died we came back to America. We haven't left since then.

"Then, you have the tyrannosaurus..." Dad is still blabbering on about the this and the that of dinosaurs. Mom rubs her temple, and rolls her eyes at me. I try and stifle a laugh, but it doesn't work out too good. Dad looks up sharply at me. "Emma!" he almost yells. I bite my lip, and look to my mother for support. She smiles a tiny bit, puts the magazine back on the table, and stands up.

"Ross, let it go!" she soothes. Dad turns back to her, and starts to object, but he never can say no to Those Eyes. I smile gratefully when Dad suggests we order a pizza. Mom nips to the bathroom, and Dad picks up the phone. As he reaches for the menu, he knock an old photo. He doesn't notice, and I wait until he leaves to look at it.

There are six people in the photo. A lady with long blond hair, who I think is called....Phillis? Phillipa? I don't know, something like that. There's a guy with dark hair, who I know is Joey Tribianni, because he's an actor. Mom and Dad are there, but they're a lot younger. There's another couple too. I've never asked about them, because I was never told, and if my parents wanted me to know, they would've told me.

While Dad is dialing, I look out the window. I really love Manhattan, but I miss Paris. I know Mom does, but she feels that she can't leave now that she's back. Dad doesn't care, as long as we all stick together.

There's something strange, though. I know all there is to know about Mom's family, how her sister Amy pierced my ears when I was only an infant, how my Aunt Jill dated my Dad (when they really WERE on a break), how my Grandpa had a heart attack (before the one that killed him) that was probably caused by bad food choices, and how Grandma nearly helped my parents raise me.

But what of my Dad's family? I know that his parents are dead with years - but I don't remember their funeral. Either that or I was never there in the first place. But why? My dad's never done anything wrong as far as I know.

Something in the window catches my eye. I turn, and see the apartment across the way. It's been empty for years - since we moved back from France, maybe even before. But there's just been a light turn on inside there. I see two people, a man and a woman, most likely a couple, walking around. Just when I'm about to ask Mom to call the cops, a third figure in a business suit walks in. Just as I see a fourth person walking in, the doorbell rings, and Mom calls me for pizza.

How long have I been daydreaming for?

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