Salena juggled the cardboard box from one hip to the other as she attempted to open the door to her room. It would have been easier to leave the door open but that would invite an argument from her parents, who still refused to accept that she was moving out. It didn’t matter that her twenty-sixth birthday had passed by six months ago, or that none of her friends still lived with their parents. She was Italian, second generation in America, and the traditions and culture brought over by her grandparents were the ones her parents insisted on following today.

Daughters lived with their parents until they were married.

Then and only then did they move away.

Daniella, Salena’s older sister, had squeezed some of their parents’ hard-headedness out of them at the age of nineteen. She moved out and found herself pregnant within a year. Completely messing up Salen’s life from that day forward.

Salena was exhausted by the constant critique of her life and was finally bucking the system.

It was before-the-sun-came-up early, and her parents were still asleep. Most of the time, she was sneaking in at this hour, only now she was tiptoeing out.

Her shoes sat on top of the box in her arms and her purse was slung over her shoulder. This was the last of the six boxes that she could shove in her small car for the short drive to her new place.

With careful precision, one well practiced, she backed out the door and quietly closed it behind her. The WD-40 she’d squeezed into the hinges to avoid the squeak had paid off.

Releasing a soft breath, she turned on her heel and straight into her father’s chest.

She squealed so loud, the sound of her voice bounced off the walls in the hallway. Salena’s heart rate skyrocketed and her stomach launched to her throat. “Holy shit, Papa!”

Her mother came running from their bedroom, yelling, “What happened?”

Her father glared, his bulky arms crossed over his chest.

“You scared the crap out of me,” Salena chided.

Her mother had grabbed the god-awful yellow ball of fuzz she called a bathrobe before storming toward them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” her father asked.

She looked at the box in her hands and back at him. “I think that’s obvious.”

“Sneaking away in the middle of the night.” It wasn’t a question.

“Technically, it’s first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” her father scolded.

“Yes, Papa.” Salena struggled to look at him over the bulk of the box and her dirty tennis shoes that were blocking her view. “I thought this would be easier.”

He reached for the box and started to pry it from her arms.

She attempted to hold on.

The struggle resulted in her shoes sliding to the floor, one of which landed on the edge of her toe and made her yelp.

Her father wasn’t a tall man, but he outweighed her by a good eighty pounds that he used to push around her.

The door to her bedroom flung open, and he dumped the box in the middle of the doorway.

He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes as he looked around her room.

Salena knew what he saw. Even though she’d left a smattering of her personal belongings in her dresser and on the walls, most of the things she held dear were either boxed up or already at her new place.

“You’ve been busy.”

She sighed.

It was then her mother joined her father as they inspected the bedroom.

“I’ve respected your thoughts and beliefs on when is the right time for me to move out. I have–”

“This is how you show your respect?” Her dad was pissed.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I won’t get married?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her mother clicked her tongue.

This was an old argument. One Salena had danced around many times with her parents. “It’s occurred to me.” Especially with everyone in her friend circle in the throes of weddings and the honeymoon phases of their lives, and nothing remotely romantic shining down on her.

“You’ll find–”

“And maybe I’m not looking,” Salena interrupted her mother. “Maybe I don’t want to be somebody’s wife.”

Her father rolled his eyes, dismissing her words.

“I’m not Daniella. I’m not cut out to be a housewife and move wherever my husband’s job takes him.” Her sister, ten years her senior, had married the father of her unexpected baby, likely by gunpoint, and relocated to Arizona before Salena had graduated from elementary school.

Salena had been dubbed the “miracle baby,” which was code for “oops.” As much as her parents had tried to have a dozen kids, Daniella came right about the time they were giving up on the idea at all. Her mother had been in the latter part of her thirties with her first pregnancy, so when Salena came, everyone thought she was going through menopause. The story had been retold so many times she could recite it word for word.

Now her dad was retired. Her mother never had a job outside of the home…and they’d both turned their eyes toward relocating closer to Daniella and her family to be near their grandchildren. And even if they denied it, Salena knew it was her keeping them grounded in San Diego.

Her mother turned and started down the hall. “Let’s have breakfast and talk this over.”

Salena put her hand up and shook her head. “No, Mama. We’ve talked. I’ve talked. Neither of you want to listen. I’m moving. I’m a grown woman. I’ve made my decision.”

“Just like that,” her father flung at her.

Salena raised her voice. “There is no ‘just like that.’ I’ve been talking about this for months. I took a management job at D’Angelo’s. Giovanna moved out of the upstairs apartment. This makes sense for me.”

“It’s less than a mile away.”

“Which means I’ll see you all the time. You’ll hardly know I’m gone.” Not really what Salena intended, but what Brigida, her mother, needed to hear.

“It’s stupid to pay rent when you can live here for free.”

The rent Mari D’Angelo was charging her was laughably small. “I want to be on my own, Mama. Not tiptoe past your room when I come in late or offend you when I eat at work and have no more room for what you’ve cooked.”

“We don’t mind your late hours.”

Salena’s eyes moved to her father’s. Aldo scolded her with only a glare. “You do. You pretend you don’t, but you do.”

“Do you think you’ll worry your mother less when you’re not here at all?”

“Maybe not at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

Her mother huffed.

“Where is Daniella right now?” Salena asked.

“At home with her husband and kids.”

“Is she? Are you sure? And what about last night…or the night before?”

“She has a husband to take care of her and worry where she is.” Aldo crossed his arms over his chest.

The three of them stood in the narrow hall as they argued.

“I’m not waiting for a husband to start living my life. I’m capable of taking care of myself.” Salena moved past her mother and stood in front of her father, willing him to move.

“Your sister said the same thing.” Her father’s words were cold.

“She was nineteen and naive.” And thought her parents would find out if she went on birth control pills, so Daniella hadn’t bothered. Even after she moved out, she’d depended on condoms. One tequila-filled night, and nine months later…”I’m twenty-six…and not.”

Her father’s glare alone made her sweat.

“I’m not asking you to like my decision. But I am asking you to accept it,” she finally said.

Salena stood nearly nose to nose with her father. Her stubborn streak she’d gotten from him.

Their standoff lasted for several breaths before Aldo stepped aside.

“Thank you.” Salena bent over to retrieve her shoes, this time putting them on her feet since sneaking out of the house was a moot point now.

Behind her, she heard her mother sniffle and walk away.

Guilt seeped in. “It’s just down the street.”

The door to her parents’ bedroom slammed shut. Her mother and all her yellow fluffiness were out of view.

Her father grumbled.

“This is for the best, Papa.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“I won’t get pregnant.”

The tightness in her father’s jaw re-affirmed he was holding back his words.

There was no winning.

The arguing exhausted her.

She repositioned her purse on her shoulder and lifted the box.

“I can pick up the rest later…or wait until you’re both out if that will make it easier.”

Her father didn’t say anything, he simply turned and walked away.

Salena cussed under her breath, her parents’ Catholic guilt working overtime in her head, and rushed out the door before she could cave.