Page 70 of Organized Chaos
“Rave, can you hand me the parking stub?”
Raven frowned. “The, what?”
“Parking stub. I slipped it in your purse when we entered the lot.”
“Umm... okay.” Raven fussed over her purse.
“What does it look like?”
“It’s white with a bar code on it.”
My mind was still reeling from Reid’s comment. I had told Raven multiple times how much I loathed our previously unstable living situation. Raven wouldn’t move again without discussing it with me first. Right? I desperately needed an answer.
“Rave, are we moving?” I asked her with more urgency this time.
“One sec, babe,” Raven dismissed me absentmindedly. “Reid, I don’t see any parking stub. Are you sure it’s in my purse?”
“Positive.”
I waved my hand to get Raven’s attention. “Rave—”
“Not now, Mia,” Reid cut me off callously, moving closer to presumably help Raven search. “Check the inner pocket.”
I had phrased a question that should take mere seconds to answer. Perhaps they were distracted by the parking slip debacle, but deep down, I knew better.
One-on-one, all of my siblings could hold a conversation with me. However, they actively tuned me out in group settings. Within five minutes of an airport pick-up, I had lost their attention.
Generally speaking, I had gotten used to being ignored. However, the simple answer they were withholding could impact one of the last remaining positives in my life.
Over the years, our house in New York had truly morphed into a ghost town. Our parents might have moved back from Grand Cayman, but Mom still stayed locked in her room. I had no relationship with Dad. Reid moved out years ago for college, and Milo constantly traveled for work.
My only companions were the beloved string of nannies.
It was my lonesome self versus a big empty haunted house. It’s the reason I cherished smaller spaces, like our apartment in Paris. I felt more at home in that tiny apartment than inside our mansion on the Upper West Side.
While long flights and jetlag had become second nature—and being shuffled back and forth between the two cities caused instability—it was all worth it when we found a permanent address in Paris. A two-bedroom apartment in an eclectic neighborhood, where eccentric personalities weren’t as easily rejected because they were a dime a dozen.
Raven and I loved the apartment. I even felt optimistic enough to decorate my room this time. Not to mention, Gabby and her family lived in the same building. She was the only one who knew what happened with Brandon and had been there for me through thick and thin. If I texted her in the middle of the night, she’d come rushing over.
During my time in Paris, we regularly had visitors, keeping our place loud and vibrant. It was the only place where I wasn’t alone.
And now... I was being uprooted yet again without so much as an acknowledgment of the fact.
It sucked.
A five-year-old was informed when their parents planned to move. I was less significant than a child. I was more like the family dog they strutted around, set boundaries for, and then placed wherever they pleased.
I blinked away the tears and pressed for answers. “Please just say yes or no.” I heard the hysteria in the way my voice went up an octave.
Raven’s brows were pressed together as she concentrated on the contents of the purse. “Reid, it’s not in here,” she announced.
Reid opened the purse wider to help her dig through the satchel. “It has to be.”
Damnit, stop ignoring me.
Neither of them was aware of how much I needed this comfort today. I couldn’t recoup what happened with Brandon, Milo was giving me the silent treatment, and there was nothing left for me in New York. The only thing I had looked forward to was face-planting on my bed, crying for hours, and talking to Gabby.
Instead, my last semblance of stability was being taken away. I could understand if there were logical reasons, but I wasn’t provided with any. I was barely informed then promptly ignored, like always. They’d rather bicker about a ticket than take two seconds out of their lives to answer a simpleyesornoquestion.
