"Mom, Dad, I'm moving out. I've found a place."
Kevin looked closely at his parents, bracing for a reaction, but they remained perfectly calm.
"And don't try to talk me out of it," he added. "I'm leaving for good. I called the landlord yesterday and we settled everything."
"That's good..." Instead of looking worried, his father let out a yawn. "The main thing is that you've finally made up your mind. This is the third time you've been 'moving out' in six months. I'm starting to feel embarrassed for your future landlord and I haven't even met her. You're always changing your mind at the last second."
"I'm definitely not changing it this time." Kevin gave his mother a meaningful look, waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent. "It's a final decision. And you both know why."
"We know, we know," his father chuckled. "You're making your own living now. You want to be independent. Good for you. But the chores around the house and the yard work still have to get done as long as you're here. If you've made your choice, though... well. You'll have your own responsibilities now; you won't have time for us. You'll see how tough the real world is soon enough, and you'll grow up fast."
"I grew up a long time ago, Dad!" Kevin corrected him irritably. "I'm twenty-eight years old. Do you really think I can't handle living on my own?"
"Why even talk about it?" His father shrugged. "Grab your suitcase and, as they say, Godspeed. Go build your life without your parents holding your hand."
"Mom, why aren't you saying anything?" Kevin looked at her again. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"
"What is there to say?" his father answered for her. "Start feeling sorry for you again? Beg you to stay?"
"Dad," Kevin snapped, getting worked up. "Why are you mocking me? I want to hear what Mom thinks about this."
"Honey, maybe you should have a bite to eat before you head out?" his mother finally spoke up.
"What?" Kevin stammered, having expected a completely different response.
"I said eat something, Kevin," she smiled. "I can pack you a Tupperware container with some meatloaf and mashed potatoes for tonight. For dinner."
"One slice of meatloaf is plenty!" his father exclaimed. "Let him start cooking for himself. Or he can go to a diner, like we did when we were young."
Kevin stared at his parents in confusion, unable to understand why nothing was going according to his plan.
"What are you standing there for?" his father asked impatiently. "I have a feeling this 'moving out' is going to take all day. First you'll eat, then you'll want a shower, then you'll feel like taking a nap. Don't go getting comfortable if you've made your decision."
"Fine!" Kevin marched resolutely toward the closet where the large suitcase was kept. "I'll pack my things right now and go."
"Don't stress yourself out. The suitcase is already packed," his father said.
"What?" Kevin's face fell in surprise. "What do you mean, it's packed? Why is it packed?"
He lunged for the closet, hauled out the heavy suitcase, flipped the latches, and stared at his parents in utter shock.
"How... how did you guess that I... that I was leaving?"
"What's there to guess?" His father gave him a mocking wink. "The second you threw that tantrum yesterday about not wanting to help out with the landscaping this weekend, we knew—our boy is going on the run tomorrow."
"I didn't throw a tantrum," Kevin grumbled. "I just said I didn't want to spend my weekend doing your chores..."
"Right, right," his father cut him off. "But it's all settled, isn't it? As you can see, your bag is ready. Don't worry, we put in everything you packed last time. Though, I'd suggest taking a few extra boxes of tissues."
"What do I need those for?" Kevin asked crossly.
"Well, what are you going to wipe your eyes with when you start crying for your mother's cooking? The landlord's hand towels? She'll get annoyed with you."
"Oh, stop it, George. Don't tease him," his mother said, suddenly coming to Kevin's defense. "Can't you see he's already a nervous wreck?"
Hope flared in Kevin's eyes at her words, expecting her to finally plead with him to stay, but she went in a different direction entirely.
"I was thinking, Kevin, I should probably let you take a pot and a frying pan from the kitchen—just in case. So you have your own things to start with..."
"Mom!" Kevin cried out in despair. "What do I want with frying pans?" He caught himself and forced a serious expression. "So, you're actually happy I'm leaving?"
"We're proud of you, son!" his father shouted. "It takes real guts to finally leave the nest and start an independent life."
"And it doesn't bother you that I might get into trouble? Do something you've always been afraid I'd do?"
"Well, you'll be the one answering for your own actions now," his father replied calmly. "You won't be living under our roof."
"Wait! I haven't actually left yet!"
"Are you saying you haven't made a final decision?" His father gave him a knowing look.
"I have... but not... entirely... decided," Kevin said sheepishly, avoiding his father's gaze.
"Well then, put the suitcase back in the closet," his father said evenly. "Let it sit there and wait until you've truly made up your mind."
"But I—" Kevin started to protest, but his father cut him off immediately.
"But you'd better get ready! There's a shovel and five hundred square feet of garden waiting for you this weekend. As long as we live together, we share the joys, the sorrows, and the yard work. Am I right, son?"
Kevin had no choice but to give his dad a silent nod.
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