Instead of spewing my anger and frustration, I painted. It was my only outlet and had saved me on many occasions. Because of the secrets and isolation, my parents’ house never really felt like home. It was a stage where we performed, not a sanctuary where we could be ourselves. Just looking at the outer façade as I pulled into the driveway had me gnawing anxiously at my fingernails.

It was three weeks. I could survive three weeks.

I unloaded the two boxes into the garage with all my other things and locked the door. My father had begrudgingly agreed to let me store my things where Mom parked her car so I didn’t have to deal with the hassle of a storage unit. I knew the minute I’d locked my things away in some run-down metal building, I’d think of something I needed to retrieve. This way, I had everything nearby, and Mom’s car could surely survive the elements for three weeks.

I used the key to let myself in the side door of the house closest to the detached garage. “Hey Mom, it’s me,” I called out, dropping my keys on the hall tree bench.

“Oh, Sofia!” Mom said as she hurried over from the other room. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a nice little visit,” I said with a forced smile. “Is Alessia still here?”

“No,” she groused. “She left earlier today, even though I wasn’t happy about it. She insisted on going back to her apartment. She’ll be here for Sunday dinner, but I may have to drop in sooner to check on her.”

“Oh! That was quick. I had hoped I’d get to see her while she was home.”

“It would have been wonderful to have both of you under one roof. I think more than anything it’s boy trouble that’s bothering her. Maybe you could call her. It might help to talk to her sister.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely give her a call in a bit.”

“Good. Now, while I have you here, I was just going over this seating chart for the graduation party and want you to have a look.” She took my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen.

“I can look at it, but you know I don’t care where people sit.” She knew very well that not only did I not care where people sat, I had no desire to have a party at all. This was her event, and I had little to do with it. However, I hadn’t refused her request to throw a party, so it was my own fault that I had to deal with her incessant planning. She lived for these things, and I hated to take that from her.

My mom wasn’t a bad woman; in fact, there were a lot of qualities about her that I respected. She was more apt than anyone in the family to call things as she saw them. I’d learned some colorful language from my mother over the years. One time, she cussed out a cop so thoroughly the man had blushed.