I got a frantic call from Clarita around 10:00 one night. They'd gotten into an argument about her attitude, which was back full force, and she'd run off. She wasn't answering her cell phone. It was difficult seeing as I was hundreds of miles away. I couldn't exactly just go start looking for her. I told Clarita I'd call her and if we hadn't heard anything by morning I'd fly out.

After hanging up, I immediately called up my daughter. I understood her being upset but she knew better than to just run off and then not answer her cell phone. I left her a no-nonsense voicemail telling her to call her mother and me.

I barely slept that night. I tried calling her every hour but it kept going to voicemail. She was probably just being a moody teen but I was still a parent and worried something had happened to her. Joey still didn't know Chicago that well.

I got the first morning flight available and had to pay an exorbitant amount, but it didn't matter. My kid was missing and I needed to get there. As soon as I landed I called up Clarita. She was already downtown, looking around public places. I decided to check in with the youth hostels and hospitals. We continually called and texted her, asking her to respond. By noon I was starting to really get worried.

We decided to both head back to Clarita's to regroup and found her sitting on the couch.

"Josephine!" her mother called, her voice laced with a combination of relief and anger. She rushed to the couch and pulled her into a tight hug. I walked over slowly, relieved, my hands tucked in my pockets.

Clarita pulled back, tears streaming down her face as she straightened our daughter's hair. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said softly, seeming in a daze.

"Why didn't you answer our calls and texts?" I asked her firmly, crossing my arms.

"I turned it off," she told me.

"You know better than to just disappear and not check in with us. This was incredibly irresponsible. I flew in on a red-eye because we were both so worried."

"Sorry," she said quietly, looking down.

I sighed, my frustration immediately melting away. I walked over and sat on the other side of her, pulling her into my own hug. I pressed a kiss to her head. I don't think she'd washed it recently and she was dirty from being out all night.

"Where did you go?" I asked her.

"A youth hostel," she told me. "I left really early."

"Have you eaten?" I asked, and she shook her head. I sighed. "Go take a shower and get in some fresh clothes. I'll make us all pancakes and then we'll talk."

She nodded and stood up, then wandered back to her bedroom. I looked back at my ex, and the full frustration of the situation was coming back to her.

"Is she still not showering?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Only every couple days. I almost have to force her."

"And have you taken her to counseling?" I asked.

"I can't make her go, Lin," she insisted. "I'm too big to physically make her."

"Then I will," I decided, frustrated that Clarita hadn't gotten her to go. "I'll stay as long as it takes and I'll physically take her."

"She's not gonna like that," Clarita pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," I said. I didn't like having to be forceful with our daughter, but she was leaving us no choice. She wasn't taking care of herself and now her grades were dropping. "It's called parenting."

It was a low blow, but I was frustrated that I'd had to drop everything and come here because Clarita couldn't handle her. I stood up and went to the kitchen, opening cabinets to find what I needed to make pancakes. Clarita went back to her own room for a while. All three of us needed space for a while.

Half an hour later, we were all sitting at the table together eating pancakes. It occurred to me we hadn't eaten together as a family since Joey was a little girl. We were all quiet as we ate and I wondered how we should approach the situation. It seemed being sympathetic to Joey wasn't working anymore. She needed some firm reminders.

As Joey finished, we set our silverware on our plates and sat there.

"Josephine," I began. "You've been here over a month now. You're not taking care of yourself, you've lost weight, your grades are dropping. And now you're running away. What's going on?"

"I don't want to be here!" she groaned firmly.

"Well the reality is you're here," I told her. "And you need to make the best of the situation. Your mother found you a great school but now all of a sudden you're slacking? That's not like you."

"You're not even giving this a chance," Clarita accused her. "You've always been a happy, energetic kid and it's like I don't even know you now. If you'd just put forth a little effort you'd have tons of friends. I know it."

"You don't know anything," she told Clarita.

"Hey," my tone was firm as I shot her a warning look. "Your mother has tried to get you to go to counseling but she says you're refusing. Is that right?"

She grumbled in response.

"Excuse me?" I asked her.

"Yes," she answered with attitude.

"You have an appointment for Monday and I'm taking you," I informed her. "We are done with this whole feeling sorry for yourself rut you've gotten in. You have a great home, a great school, and you need to start getting yourself back together."

Her arms were crossed and she was scowling, not liking the lecture we were giving her. We were back to being a united front because it's what our daughter needed. Our family drama had to be put aside for her sake.

"Can I go to my room?" she asked.

"Yes," Clarita told her. "Take your plate to the sink please."

She got up quickly and let her plate clatter in the sink. Her door slammed. I sighed and Clarita stood up, picking up her plate and mine to carry to the kitchen. I got the syrup and butter and took them back to the fridge.

"Stubborn one, she is," Clarita mumbled as she rinsed off the syrup before putting the plates in the dishwasher. "Thanks for coming and backing me up."

"Sure," I told her, checking my watch. "Since I'm here I'm gonna go to the CIBC to check in with the crew. Want me to come back over later?"

"Yeah," she said, seemingly glad to have the help with Joey. "I'll make dinner."

"Great," I stepped forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then wandered down the hallway to Joey's room. I knocked and pushed the door open to find her curled up on her bed, hugging her stuffed bunny. I walked over quietly and sat on the edge, then rubbed at her arm.

"I'm heading to the theatre for a while," I told her. "But I'll be back for dinner."

"Why did you both have to yell at me like that?" she asked, a little tearful.

"Josephine, we can't let you keep acting like this," I told her. "This has gone on long enough. It needs to end."

"I want to go home!" she told me, turning around.

"I know," I said. "I'm working on it. But until then, you need to buck up and get back with it. Get your grades back up and take care of yourself. Can you do that for me?"

She sighed. "I'll try."

"Good girl," I told her, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Get some work done and I'll see you for dinner. Love you."

"Love you too," she said as I stood up to leave. I told Clarita goodbye and headed to the theatre.

I checked in with the theatre manager and hung out with quite a few of the actors. Things were going great and they were happy to see me. Miguel and I talked in length about the character we both played. I asked him about his daughter Adelaide and her struggle with epilepsy. I really admired his strength.

I headed back to Clarita's in the evening. She was finishing up dinner so I asked if I could help at all. She asked me to set the table so I did. As I did I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was obviously in over her head and frantic. Worry was etched all over her face. Even though I was still upset with her over taking Joey away from me, I still cared for her. I set down the last fork and walked over to her in the kitchen.

I gently tugged on her arm, turning her to me. "Hey," I said gently. She was surprised when I pulled her in for a hug. "Take a few breaths. You look crazy worried."

She relaxed a little into the hug and I felt her arms around me. "I just thought she would've adjust by now. I don't know if she's doing it just to spite me or if she's really miserable."

I wouldn't put it past Joey that some of this was for show. If she could prove how badly she was doing it might help her case. She was a smart kid. I think I knew my kid well enough though that she was truly having a hard time. Not taking care of herself was a big indicator.

"She'll get through this," I assured her. "She's strong. Just like you."

She let out a humorless chuckle and pulled away. "You didn't always like that."

"Well, you could be pretty stubborn," I said. "Joey's the same way. I think the problem is you're too alike."

"Yeah, maybe," she said, stirring at the spaghetti. "This is about ready. Will you go get Joey?"

I walked down the hall and pushed the door open. Joey was oblivious I was there. Her earbuds were in and she was tapping the eraser of her pencil on her nearly empty notebook. I watched her for about thirty seconds, trying to figure out what was making her tick. She finally looked over at me, then took out her earbuds.

"Hi, Dad," she said.

"Hi kiddo," I said, stepping inside further. "Mom's almost done with dinner. How's the homework coming?"

"Fine," she said, setting her pencil down. "AP is kicking my butt."

"You're up for the challenge," I told her as she stood up. I opened my arm as she walked towards me and I squeezed her shoulder, then pressed a kiss to her head.

"I have a B in World History," she told me. "A B. That never happens."

"Damn, kid," I admitted. It killed her to get B's. "Can you do extra credit?"

"Yeah, maybe," she said as we walked down the hall. "I just haven't had the motivation."

Hopefully she would soon be on an upswing. We all sat down at the table for the second time that day. The food was delicious and Joey actually joined in on the conversation. Afterwards I helped with the dishes and said bye to Joey before heading to my hotel.

Pippa was hurting a bit, being the primary caregiver to three kids. She had called my mom today for some help and she had swooped in like the hero she was. Mom insisted she go take a nap because she was exhausted. I told her I'd be back hopefully Tuesday. Pippa assured me that they were managing fine and that Joey needed to be the priority.

On Monday, I met Joey after school to personally take her to therapy. I couldn't make her talk but I could sure as hell give her some consequences if she didn't cooperate. On the way there I prepped her about it.

"You need to use this to your advantage," I told her as we walked. "Tons of people go to therapy. I think she'll be able to help you."

"I feel like a freak," she told me.

"You're not a freak," I assured her. "You're just having a hard time adjusting. You'll get there."

I checked her in and sat with her as she filled out a questionnaire. Her name was called by the therapist and I briefly introduced myself, then decided to go to a coffee shop I'd seen on the way there. I hung out and read while Joey hopefully talked.

An hour later I was back. Joey emerged looking about the same and the therapist asked to have a word with me. She said they'd had a good chat, which relieved me. She had a lot of pent up anger about the situation and needed a way to channel her energy. Back in New York she'd done softball and soccer and also ran a lot. She encouraged me to steer her into at least one of those activities.

I walked back out to the waiting room and Joey eyed me. We left together, taking the stairs.

"What did she say about me?"

I chuckled. "That you need to listen to your parents."

She gave me seriously dad? look and I chuckled again.

"Just that you seem upset about the situation and you need to channel your energy," I explained as we walked. "And I agree. You should maybe get into soccer or softball."

"Yeah, maybe," she mumbled.

"Ice cream?" I asked her as we reached the street.

"Sure," she said. I looked up the nearest place on my phone and we walked there. We found a nearby park and licked at our cones at a bench. She seemed to just look at her cone between licks, contemplating life. Her shoulders were hunched over.

"You'll be okay, kid," I said, gently rubbing at the nape her neck. "This is just a hiccup."

She offered a small smile and continued licking her cone. "Your lawyer's too slow."

"He's working on it," I said. "These things take time."

She sighed heavily and I pulled her to me for a hug. "Hang in there," I told her quietly.

"I'm trying," she told me.