Quit? How could he suggest something like that?
I went to college, studied all those years, graduated, and got a job so I could make a living and help around the house. Quitting sounds like giving up. Like I failed somehow. I’m used to earning my own money, to be able to give back—even though in smaller doses—everything they did and still do for me. It’s not fair to them to simply quit. And do what?
“Why would I do that? I don’t have any idea about what I want to do,” I tell them, creasing my brows in confusion.
“You can write your book. Isn’t that something you always wanted?” Mom suggests.
“This won’t pay my bills, Mom.”
“You don’t have to pay for anything. That’s what we’re here for,” Dad adds, leaning back in his chair.
I turn to face him in disbelief.
“Of course not! I’d never
