Don't Forget

"You have issues with following directions, don't you? I told you that hanging out with me wasn't a good idea. Thank God you had the good sense not to bring Kevin" I sighed as I opened the front door of my new home.

"I don't have issues. I just don't follow directions," Joe laughed, "And can you blame me? I haven't seen you in forever."

It was at that moment that he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me close, and proceeded to squeeze all the air out of my chest. I let him in because, well, I missed him. My mom flipped out when she saw him. She went on and on about how tall he'd gotten and even asked if he'd been working out. Joe blushed and said yes and then gave me a dirty look while I tried desperately not to laugh.

"Your still shorter than me," he pointed out randomly as he rifled through a cardboard box filled with DVDs.

"I've always been shorter than you. I'm shorter than everyone. I'm only 5 feet tall," I said, wondering why he'd brought it up.

"I know," he mumbled and then shouted, "The Grudge!"

"I don't like scary movies," I protested.

"You used to watch scary movies with me and Kevin all the time," Joe whined, "You liked them then."

I was quiet for a moment before softly saying, "He used to hold my hand."

"Oh," Joe said and then, "How about Pineapple Express?"

"Mmkay," I muttered and sat on the couch.

The TV and the couch were the only things in the room. Everything else was still in boxes stacked in the kitchen and dining room. Joe didn't seem to mind, even though I was secretly going crazy. I'm kind of a neat freak. The movie was over right around the time my mom started making dinner. I could smell it.

"Does he ever talk about me? I mean, has he ever said anything about me?" I asked, shutting off the TV.

"He wrote you a song. At least, I think it was for you. Nick heard him singing and asked if we could put it on the new CD but Kevin got all defensive and said no and he wouldn't have said no if it was about anyone else," Joe told me.

"Oh," I said softly.

"He kinda gets pissed when ever anyone mentions you. It's a sore subject for him. He misses you," Joe went on.

"He never called, never texted. Nothing. If he wasn't famous I wouldn't even know if he was alive or not," I said angrily.

"I'm telling you Kevy, he misses you like crazy," Joe smiled.

We went into that kitchen then, to see what my mom was making. She had unpacked some pots and pans so that she could make Paella. The Jonas boys used to come over for dinner every Friday for my mom's Paella. She's completely Spanish. My Grandma was born in Toledo and my grandpa was born in Madrid. Her name isn't really Casey, it's Castalia, but she's assimilated. Anyways, she makes amazing Paella.

"I hate to break it to you Kevy, but I think I missed the Paella more than I missed you," Joe laughed as my mom put the pan in the middle of the table.

"Joey!" I pretended to be offended.

"Alright, so not really. But I did miss it," he giggled, helping himself.

"Kevynn, you should show him the song you wrote," my mom said out of the blue.

Joe looked up at me expectantly. I shoved a forkful of chicken in my mouth so I wouldn't have to say anything. My mom has a knack for saying stuff I don't want her to say. I don't even like music. My dad used to play piano and after he died my mom could never bring herself to get rid of his piano. Kevin taught me how play. He taught me how to play the guitar too. I like music, not as much as the Jonases, but I like it. And sometimes it's a good way to deal with feelings.

"I wanna hear, I wanna hear!" Joe shouted like a little kid.

"Maybe some other time," I said and shrugged.

"That's not fair. Whenever you say some other time you really mean never in a million years," Joe whined.

"Play it for him Kev," my mom pushed.

"After dinner," I gave in.

The movers had shoved the piano in the corner of the dining room so as soon as he finished eating, that's where Joe headed. He sat on the bench and played an unfamiliar tune as I walked in. I was going to ask him what it was but I didn't want to interrupt. He was really good. Nick and Kevin had always been the instrumental brothers; I'd never even realized Joe was talented.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "Your turn."

"I liked it," I said with a smile, "Was it for a girl?"

"Maybe," Joe smiled, "Is yours for a boy?"

"Maybe," I returned and took his place on the piano bench.

I miss your hands
I miss your face
I miss your voice
And what you'd say

I miss your smile
I miss your arms
I miss your touch
So tender and warm

I want you
I need you
I miss you

I miss your thoughts
I miss your strength
I miss your love
God, it never ends
I miss your eyes
I miss your kiss
I miss our nights
Nothing's like it

I want you
I need you
I miss you

I miss the mornings that you'd kiss me awake
I miss the songs we used to play
I miss the day on that boat in the sun
I miss our talks in the restaurants

I miss you smoking cigarettes
I miss you carrying me to bed
I miss you
I miss you

I want you
I need you
I miss you

Joe's mouth was hanging open and my mom was smiling. I blushed and looked down at the black and white keys. Joe closed his mouth then, but he looked confused. My mom left the room and Joe sat next to me.

"Who was that about?" he asked.

"Kevin," I replied as if it was obvious.

"I don't remember him kissing you. Or smoking cigarettes," Joe said, "Am I missing something?"

"A lot, actually," I said softly.