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dad goes on, “It sounds like those people are just trying to take you for a ride.”
    “You just don’t have the life experience to be able to see it,” my mom remarks, signaling for the waiter to refill her water glass. “Take it from us, dear.”
    I can practically feel the steam pouring out of my ears as I look back and forth between my parents, smiling serenely at me from across the table.
    “I don’t have the life experience?” I say slowly, my voice filled with concentrated outrage. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years, now. Ever since I started school. Or have you forgotten that I’ve been putting myself through college on my own?”
    “It was your choice not to study something practical,” my mom says. “You know we would have paid the way if you’d gone for math, or science—”
    “But I didn’t. I chose to study the thing I’m actually passionate about. Are you familiar with the term, passionate?” I fume.
    “Don’t take that tone with me, Logan,” my mother warns.
    “Don’t talk to me as though I’m a petulant child,” I shoot back.
    “Then stop acting like one,” she all but hisses. “And keep your voice down. We’re in public, in case you haven’t noticed.”
    “Why don’t we all just take a breath and order some lunch, OK?” my dad puts in, trying to play the peacekeeper. “Let us treat you to a nice meal, Logan.”
    “Sorry Dad,” I say firmly. “I seem to have lost my appetite. Besides, I wouldn’t want to go on mooching off your generosity. I think I’d better just leave you to it.”
    “You’re overreacting as always, Logan,” my mom sighs. “But if you must go blow off some steam, then by all means do so. We’ll see you at the ceremony tomorrow.”
    “Actually Mom, I don’t think I’ll be attending graduation,” I say, rising to my feet. “But you two are welcome to go and have a good time.”
    “Why are you doing this?” my mom hisses. “Why can’t you just show us a little bit of respect, Logan?”
    “Because you can’t seem to show me any in return,” I say sadly. “Maybe, once I’ve shown you that I can support myself while doing what I love, you’ll start to see what I’m made of. But honestly, Mom, I’m not holding my breath. Enjoy your lunch.”
    I turn away from my parents and hurry away from their table. The last thing I want is for them to see the disappointed, frustrated tears that stream down my cheeks. Nothing I’ve done in the past has ever been good enough for them, but I honestly thought that this job might finally be the thing to impress them. Maybe even convince them that I’m as determined and intelligent as they always hoped I would be. I guess that was just more empty, wishful thinking.
    Boston is absolutely packed with happy families in the midst of graduation festivities. I pick my way through the boisterous, smiling groups as I walk back to my apartment alone, unable to hold back my tears. I’d give anything to have a whole, supportive, loving family. A group that always had my back, no matter what. Maybe Juliet had the right idea, seeking one out somewhere else.
    By the time I finally make it back to my apartment, I feel like I’ve been hit by an emotional wrecking ball. Emma is out gallivanting with her artsy friends for the afternoon, so the apartment is totally empty. I glance around at the threadbare space, listening to the muffled city sounds filtering through the walls. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this lonely in my life—not when I left home for college, not even when Juliet left. With no one around to see me, I sink onto the dusty hardwood floor and have the good, honest cry that’s been building up inside me for longer than I care to admit.
    I don’t know how much time goes by before I feel like I can solider on. But my tears have been restorative. By the time I rise shakily to my feet once more, I’ve come to a decision. I’m not going to let doubt or uncertainty hold me back any longer. So