I couldn’t hide in my room anymore, but I could at least cut the carrots badly.

One could argue that carrots can only be cut, and there is no good or bad—unless you’re in my mom’s kitchen. Mom had been working on the holiday dinner since the day before. I wasn’t much help, because I never did anything right, apparently. Even for a simple task like chopping vegetables, she would hover nearby until she could swoop in and correct me. Then she would complain that she had too much to do. After a few minutes of mutilating the carrots, she dismissed me from the cutting board to sit at the kitchen table and “keep her company.”

My anxiety level was higher than usual because I had decided to announce our plan today: after working like a dog my senior year of high school and full time since then, my boyfriend Chas and I were going to move in with one of his friends, and we would both start art school in January. I still couldn’t afford the whole thing myself, and needed to convince Mom to contribute what she would have paid for college.

Years ago, when Dad’s sudden departure made her the main breadwinner, she became a successful manager at her company. Unfortunately, she never let us forget it. She took care of us, but she also kept a mental ledger of every favor, every slight. My brother, Rob, was still in the debt column for a DUI court case from a year ago.

“Put the baby carrots in a dish on the high chair,” she said over her shoulder. She was excited that Rob and his family were coming for dinner. Their toddler had just started walking. The high chair was more of a baby containment device than a chair.

However, three o’clock came and went, the food was ready, and they hadn’t arrived yet. They never had been on time before, but she was fretting and complaining about it. After a few snippy texts to Chas to blow off steam, he stopped responding. But if Chas had at least been on time, it would have taken the tension down a notch, and I was getting annoyed. Maybe he wasn’t responding because he was driving over.

I tried to make things better with Mom by suggesting we watch a movie, shuffling a deck of cards enticingly, and even picking up the phone to call and check on Rob’s progress, but she wasn’t having any of it. Eventually, I settled into my favorite spot on the sofa, at the far end where I could get a view of the street out the window—a view of freedom—and put on It’s a Wonderful Life. The idea was to lure Mom in so she would sit and watch it with me, but she only came in the room to look out the window any time she heard a voice or car door outside.

The cozy familiarity of George Bailey and his small town helped me relax. I used to hate that movie; to me, it was about a guy who wants to leave and keeps getting held back by the whiny, non-adventurous people in his life who couldn’t take care of themselves. But I finally saw it as a choice—George Bailey’s choice to stay and be with people he cared about.

However, it is a little hard to follow a movie when someone is sighing behind you.

“Tina probably didn’t start the casserole early enough. I bet it’s still in the oven.”

“Good,” I said without taking my eyes off the TV, “then we won’t have to take time to reheat it.”

After about ninety minutes, Rob showed up. I left the movie on to give the appearance we weren’t waiting to jump on him like unfed dogs as soon as he walked in. When Mom moved away from the window, I could see Tina carrying my half-asleep nephew. They walked toward the porch slowly, almost like they weren’t eager to be there.

Mom opened the door and waved them in. Houston weather can be chilly or balmy on Thanksgiving. This year it picked moody with cloudy skies, but it was warm enough that a fly buzzed in the door.

“I was worried something happened to you.”

“Mom, I’m sorry we’re late. We did the best we could. Bobby had an upset tummy.”

Instead of welcoming them in, she stood with her hands clasped, like she wasn’t ready to let it go. Tina put little Bobby on the floor, and he clung to her leg with one arm. He looked at Mom and thrust his plush dinosaur at her, breaking the tension.

“Hey, Sis,” Rob gave me a quick hug while balancing a casserole in the other arm. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He must be on his way. I’ll give him a call.” I used the opportunity to escape to my bedroom while they settled in, shutting the door as I heard Mom say, “I hope the food isn’t all overcooked now . . .”

Chas picked up on the first ring. “Hello . . . oh . . . El.” Not a good start.

“Hey, Chas. Rob and Tina just walked in, so we haven’t started eating yet, but, uh, are you almost here?” I knew he wasn’t, because kitchen noises clattered in the background. A door closed and muted the sounds.

“El, sorry.” He drew a breath in slowly, and I held mine. “My aunt came down from Chicago for Thanksgiving dinner, and there’s a lot of stuff going on.”

“What stuff?” I was getting angry. “Chas, we planned this. I wanted to tell Mom about the apartment and everything with you here.”

“I wanted to talk about this in person, tonight . . .” His voice was peevish now. “But since you called, I have an . . . opportunity.”

I waited and heard muffled crunching. Was he eating while he talked to me? The hell, man! My stomach rumbled.

“My aunt said I can stay with her in Chicago and go to school there. I’m going to go back with her when she goes home.”

“To . . . uh, look for an apartment?” He was silent. Not even chewing. Was he leaving me? Seriously? “Chas, I’m coming to your house. We have to talk. Now.” I bent for my purse, but all my closet cleaning had cluttered my bedroom floor. I tripped over a pile marked for donations and found it.

“No, El, all my family is still here, and look, I . . . I’ll see you at Mariah’s. Are you still going there after dinner?”

“My plans haven’t changed!”

I hung up without saying goodbye. The nerve! Piles of clothes, books, and beauty items that were the sum of my material possessions surrounded me. Chas had seemed too calm recently about packing his stuff, waving it off as something that could wait. Come to think of it, we hadn’t visited Gary, our future roommate, in some time either.

Cool water splashed on my face helped me focus. Dinner and cleanup couldn’t take more than an hour and a half. Then I would see him at Mariah’s and talk this out. If he wanted both of us to go to Chicago, we would find a way. Judging by his voice, it was a slim hope, but I tried to hold on to it. Feeling lighter, I went to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, at the dinner table, Mom and Rob were trying to out-martyr each other while I sat, waiting for it to be over, the dry turkey on the platter in front of me growing cold.

“I didn’t want to call because I know how you get . . .” Mom said.

“How do I get, Mom?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then just sighed and waved her hand weakly. “You get all uptight at me.”

His mouth thinned from tight to lipless. “I never said we would be here at a certain time. I am very careful not to give a certain time, because I know how you get.”

Mom went back to the sink to busy herself with things that were supposedly done hours ago. She ran out of things to fuss with and stood at the sink, wiping her face while keeping it hidden.

We waited awkwardly until Mom finally sat down with us, gave the blessing, and started passing around food. Her silence was loud.

“Tina, the casserole looks good,” I said. She seemed surprised, and I looked at it again. It was green bean casserole, which I hate, and it was from the deli, not homemade. It just wasn’t my day.

“They were out of the broccoli,” she said apologetically.

Rob put a large serving of the green bean casserole on my plate.

“El, is this new job of yours full or part-time?”

I could already see the entire conversation unfolding, but didn’t see a way to avoid it. Eating in total silence would be tense and weird. Well, more tense than it already was.

“Full-time.”

“You’re still not going to college? What about your plan with Chas?” He held back his smirk, but he knew we had been planning to move in together once school started. Apparently, Rob was not above throwing me under the bus to get Mom off his back.

I put down my forkful of cold turkey. “Apparently, Chas is moving to Chicago. Suddenly. Change of plans. My plans changed too.” My voice wavered. “I’m going to continue to work in photography, get some experience before going to school. I’ll . . . work it out.” I was making this up as it came out of my mouth, but the surprise at hearing myself say it out loud kept me from crying. I tried to look unfazed. How could Chas drop me like this?

“How will you afford an apartment on minimum wage? And who’s going to pay for art school?”

Mom found her voice again. “I’m not paying for art school. It’s college or nothing.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Why would El need to pay for an apartment?” I kept my head down as she waited for his answer.

Rob was enjoying himself. We usually got along better than this. He was apparently sick of being the center of attention, but I didn’t want the spotlight either. Mom’s face showed she was reevaluating all my closet cleaning and organizing, plus the extra hours at work as I transitioned to my new job. “Are you moving out? Not with that actor?”

“Mom, you know his name.” Eating the green beans just to be polite would be pointless, so I shoved them aside and took a bite of mashed potatoes, willing the tears not to come. Everyone was against me, but I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hissed at Rob, “I said I’ll work it out. It’s not your problem.”

“It is, if Mom has to bail you out of trouble six months from now.”

“Why,” I spat the words out, “because then she’ll have less money to bail you out when you screw up?”

His face went pale, then brick red. I’d never seen him so mad.

“Shut up, El!” he shouted. “You’re not the baby anymore.”

Furious, I stood up and screamed back, “I will not shut up! I will not shut up!”

Mom lurched out of her chair and faked a faint. Badly. People who faint usually don’t hold on to something and look around at everyone in the room first. Or check for furniture partway down. I guess she deserves points for risking a broken hip. Once I was sure she was actually okay and Tina was helping her back into her chair, I stormed off to my room.

It wasn’t that nobody understood what I was going through; it was that nobody cared. I had to get out of there before my head exploded. Also, I had to do damage control with Chas. He couldn’t just dump me over the phone.

I grabbed a gym bag and stuffed in some essentials for an overnight stay—Mariah wouldn’t mind. Jeans, underwear, jammies, secret stash of Pop-Tarts, and a ragged teddy bear my dad had given me last time I saw him. I couldn’t have packed so quickly even a month ago, but everything in my room was sorted into stacks with color-coded sticky notes to take, leave, or donate.

After a moment of thought, I took my stockpile of cash from its place in the back of the closet and stuffed it down into the bottom of the bag. My family was still at the dinner table, soldiering on like we hadn’t had a group meltdown. Worse than after Dad left. My heart skipped a beat when I realized I was walking out like he did, but at eighteen, I was the youngest in the family; I’m not supposed to be the grown-up. I slipped out the front door as quietly as possible and drove to Mariah’s on autopilot.

Chas was not the love of my life. I realized that on some level. It’s not like I was “using” him to run away, though. I just thought we could both run off to an exciting future together.

The streets were practically empty; everyone must be with their families. Mariah’s apartment parking lot had half the cars it normally did. A twinge of doubt hit me; was she even home from her family’s house yet? With my fingers crossed, I grabbed my bag and headed for her door. I could fill her in on the details and also calm down before Chas arrived. She would help him see reason.

When I rounded the corner, I nearly ran into Chas. He was setting a note on a cardboard box on her welcome mat.

“Oh. Uh, is she not home?” I could hear music inside.

“El.” He had a habit of jerking his head to flip the hair out of his eyes. He stepped forward and gripped my arms gently. I tilted my face up for a kiss, mostly out of habit; I really felt more like spitting in his face. He looked into my eyes. “There’s no point discussing it further. I’m sorry I hurt you, but this is for the best. It’s all in the note.” He pointed toward the note like I didn’t know where it was, and in one smooth motion, he patted my arm and walked past me and away.

“What?” My throat was scratchy from yelling earlier, but I couldn’t keep my temper. “What makes you think . . .”

He paused and turned back. A car I hadn’t noticed idling nearby honked twice. He shrugged, said, “Sorry,” and trotted to the passenger side.

It was too early for it to be a Christmas gift, so I kicked the box in annoyance. At the same moment, Mariah opened the door and looked from me and my gym bag to the box.

“Are you moving in?”

I could see she was joking, but she looked horribly embarrassed when she saw my face.

“Oh, El, of course you can stay here as long as you want.” She hugged me, and I felt my face scrunch up to hold the tears back. After another moment, I let them go. Mariah could never stop being the big sister. Put in a foster home at sixteen, she had grown up with a parade of younger foster siblings. She patted my back and made soothing sounds that I couldn’t hear well over my sobs.

Instead of just staying one night, Mariah said she’d be glad to let me move in with her. Having a roommate would be good for her. She was working part-time as she finished her last year of college, and could use the help with rent. Considering the breakup, I preferred to pay rent to her than to Chas and his friend. Bitterly, I realized I had been saving my money to run away with a man who was running away from me. After calming down a bit, I read the note, and it set me off again.

“What? He says I’ve changed!” I read some more. “Different paths? Is this code for ‘I found someone else’?” Mariah waited patiently as I paced the floor. “A little time off will give us a new perspective. I’m leaving this box with you because I can’t take it with me.”

That’s odd; why not leave it at his parents’ house? Mariah leaned forward as I yanked up the tucked-in box flap, then back again when she saw what it was.

“He returned the gifts I gave him? Who does that? What a jerk!”

She pulled the box away and pushed my cup of herbal tea toward me. “Leave it, Ellie, and don’t call him again for a few days.”

I lasted an entire hour before calling him, but he didn’t pick up.