She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We all have to grow up sometime.”
I bit my lip and nodded. I told myself it was just stress. I told myself she’d calm down. I told myself dad would step up if she didn’t.
Every day felt like walking on glass. If I did laundry too late? She complained about the noise. If I left my shoes by the door? She huffed and moved them. Every little thing I did seemed to irritate her.
One morning, while we were having coffee, she leaned against the counter and said, “You know, Elena, it’s unhealthy to be so dependent. You’re not a child anymore.”
I stared at my cup. “I try. I try everywhere.”
She sighed. “Trying isn’t the same as doing.”
Dad cleared his throat. “Let’s not fight, okay?”
I wanted him to say something more. I wanted him to tell her to back off. He didn’t.
The tension grew like a storm cloud over the house. I started staying out longer, sending resumes from cafés, crashing on friends’ sofas when I could.
One afternoon, after a long interview around the city, I came home and found something that made my heart stop.
Boxes. All my things packed up, piled on the front porch like trash waiting to be picked up. Carol was at the door with her arms crossed. She smiled like she had just won a game.
“I think the best thing for everyone is that you move out,” she said.
I looked past her. My dad was there. Behind her. Silent.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We all have to grow up sometime.”
I bit my lip and nodded. I told myself it was just stress. I told myself she’d calm down. I told myself dad would step up if she didn’t.
Every day felt like walking on glass. If I did laundry too late? She complained about the noise. If I left my shoes by the door? She huffed and moved them. Every little thing I did seemed to irritate her.
One morning, while we were having coffee, she leaned against the counter and said, “You know, Elena, it’s unhealthy to be so dependent. You’re not a child anymore.”
I stared at my cup. “I try. I try everywhere.”
She sighed. “Trying isn’t the same as doing.”
Dad cleared his throat. “Let’s not fight, okay?”
I wanted him to say something more. I wanted him to tell her to back off. He didn’t.
The tension grew like a storm cloud over the house. I started staying out longer, sending resumes from cafés, crashing on friends’ sofas when I could.
One afternoon, after a long interview around the city, I came home and found something that made my heart stop.
Boxes. All my things packed up, piled on the front porch like trash waiting to be picked up. Carol was at the door with her arms crossed. She smiled like she had just won a game.
“I think the best thing for everyone is that you move out,” she said.
I looked past her. My dad was there. Behind her. Silent.
