CHAPTER THREE – FAMILY MATTERS

The next morning, Joan's alarm chirped cheerfully at 6:30 AM. She groaned, fumbling for her phone to silence it. Unlike yesterday, she managed to drag herself out of bed on the first try. As she shuffled towards the bathroom, still bleary-eyed, she nearly collided with her brother Tim in the hallway. "Watch it, zombie," Tim teased, sidestepping her. Joan mumbled something incoherent and continued her trudge to the bathroom. By the time she emerged, feeling slightly more human after a quick shower, Tim was in the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. "Morning, sunshine," he said with a grin. "Sleep well?" Joan grunted as she reached for the coffee pot. "As well as can be expected when you're up till 2 AM doing stats homework." Tim winced sympathetically. "Ouch. Sounds rough." "Yeah, well, welcome to grad school," Joan replied, taking a sip of her coffee. "Speaking of which, did you remember to take out the trash last night? It's your turn." Tim's spoon paused halfway to his mouth. "Uh... was it?" Joan felt a flicker of irritation. "Yes, Tim. We agreed you'd do it on Tuesdays and Thursdays, remember?" "Oh, right," Tim said, looking sheepish. "Sorry, I forgot. I'll do it after breakfast." Joan shook her head. "The garbage truck comes in like, fifteen minutes. It needs to go out now." Tim glanced at the clock and then back at his cereal. "Can't you do it just this once? I haven't even eaten yet." "Are you kidding me?" Joan's voice rose slightly. "I'm the one who's been up half the night studying. Why should I have to do your chores too?" Tim held up his hands defensively. "Whoa, chill out. It's just trash." "It's not just about the trash, Tim," Joan said, her frustration building. "It's about responsibility. Dad works hard enough without having to pick up our slack too." Tim rolled his eyes. "Here we go with the responsibility lecture again. You know, you're not Mom. You don't have to micromanage everything around here." Joan felt like she'd been slapped. "I'm not trying to be Mom," she said, her voice tight. "I'm just trying to make sure we all do our part." "Well, maybe you should focus on your own part and let me handle mine," Tim shot back. "I would if you actually handled it!" Joan snapped. "But half the time, I end up doing your chores because you 'forgot' or you're too busy playing video games." Tim stood up, his cereal forgotten. "That's not fair! I do plenty around here. Just because I don't run around like a stress-case all the time doesn't mean I'm not pulling my weight." "A stress-case?" Joan's voice was dangerously quiet. "Is that what you think I am?" Tim must have realized he'd gone too far because his expression softened. "Look, I didn't mean it like that. I just... I know you're under a lot of pressure with school and work. But sometimes it feels like you take it out on me." Joan took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I'm not trying to take anything out on you, Tim. I'm just asking you to do the chores you agreed to do." "I know," Tim said, sighing. "And you're right. I should have remembered the trash. I'm sorry." Joan nodded, feeling some of her anger dissipate. "Thank you. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you." Tim gave her a small smile. "It's okay. We're both a bit cranky in the mornings, huh?" "Speak for yourself," Joan said, managing a weak chuckle. "I'm a ray of sunshine." Tim laughed and headed for the back door. "I'll take care of the trash now. You focus on caffeinating yourself, Little Miss Sunshine." As Tim disappeared outside with the garbage bags, Joan sank into a chair, clutching her coffee mug. She hated fighting with her brother, but sometimes the pressure of everything – school, work, trying to keep the household running smoothly – felt overwhelming. She made a mental note to try and be more patient, even on stressful days. A few hours later, Joan found herself in the university library, surrounded by stacks of statistics textbooks and printouts covered in scribbled equations. She stared at her laptop screen, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to make sense of the complex data analysis in front of her. "Come on," she muttered to herself. "This can't be that hard. You've done harder things than this." But no matter how many times she went over the problem set, the numbers refused to cooperate. She was so engrossed in her struggle that she didn't notice someone approaching her table until a shadow fell across her papers. "Well, well," a familiar voice drawled. "If it isn't Joan Keppler, looking completely lost." Joan looked up to see Lisa standing there, a smirk playing on her lips. She bit back a groan. "Hello, Lisa. Can I help you with something?" Lisa's eyes swept over the chaos of papers on the table. "Oh, I don't think you're in any position to help anyone right now. Having trouble with your stats assignment?" Joan fought the urge to cover her work with her arms. "It's challenging, but I'm figuring it out." Lisa leaned in, peering at Joan's laptop screen. "Hmm, are you sure about that? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're completely out of your depth." Joan felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger. "I'm fine, Lisa. Thanks for your concern." "Oh, it's not concern," Lisa said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Just curiosity. I mean, how did someone who can't handle basic statistical analysis even get into this program?" Joan's hands clenched into fists under the table. "I can handle it just fine. Everyone struggles sometimes." Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Do they? I finished this assignment days ago. It wasn't that difficult if you actually paid attention in class." "Some of us have jobs, Lisa," Joan snapped. "We can't all devote every waking hour to schoolwork." Lisa's smirk widened. "Ah, yes. How is life in the glamorous world of pizza delivery? Still living the dream?" Joan felt her temper rising. "At least I understand the value of hard work. Some of us weren't born with silver spoons in our mouths." "Oh, please," Lisa scoffed. "Spare me the working-class hero routine. If you can't handle the workload, maybe you should consider a... simpler career path. I hear McDonald's is always hiring." Joan stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Several nearby students looked up in annoyance. "You know what, Lisa? Not all of us measure our worth by how quickly we can crunch numbers or how much our parents can pay for tutors. Some of us actually want to help people, not just pad our resumes." Lisa's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you tell yourself to feel better about your mediocre performance? How very noble of you." Joan took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice level. "You don't know anything about me or my performance. Just because I'm struggling with one assignment doesn't mean I don't belong here." "If you say so," Lisa said with a shrug. "But from where I'm standing, it looks like you're in way over your head. Maybe you should stick to flipping burgers and leave the real academic work to those of us who can handle it." Joan felt a hot surge of anger. She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but at the last moment, she caught herself. Getting into a shouting match in the library wouldn't solve anything. Instead, she began gathering her papers. "You know what, Lisa? I don't have time for this. Some of us actually have work to do instead of putting others down to feel better about ourselves." Lisa looked taken aback by Joan's sudden calm. "Running away? I thought you said you could handle it." Joan met Lisa's gaze steadily as she packed up her laptop. "I can handle the work. What I can't handle is wasting any more of my time on your petty insecurities. Have a nice day, Lisa." With that, Joan shouldered her bag and walked away, leaving a stunned Lisa in her wake. As she exited the library, Joan felt a mix of pride at not losing her cool and frustration at the interruption to her study time. She'd have to find somewhere else to work on her assignment, but at least she'd stood up for herself.