Part 1A Room of My Own

After high school, homebody me chose a college two thousand miles away from home.

My parents roared in anger, "Just because of a room?"

Yes.

As the only daughter of a middle-class family with three houses.

I grew to the age of eighteen without ever having a room of my own.

* * *

At my eighteenth birthday party, I made a loud wish in front of all our relatives and friends.

"I want a small room of my own."

The venue went quiet. My relatives looked at us in disbelief.

"She doesn't have her own room? A girl this big needs her privacy."

"She's an only child! Even if they have a two-bedroom apartment, they could partition the living room to make a third bedroom."

I ignored my parents' instantly darkening faces and smiled generously.

"That's right, I don't have my own room."

My dad forced a strained smile.

"She's just joking. She's our only daughter, and we have three houses. How could she not have a room?"

My mom winked at me frantically.

"Emma is just teasing us. Quick, make another wish."

I sighed inwardly and said solemnly,

"Mom, Dad, I'm eighteen now. I really want my own independent space."

The room fell dead silent again. The relatives exchanged glances and looked at my parents with complex expressions.

Both of my parents had comfortable government jobs. To the outside world, they were parents who spoiled their daughter rotten. How could they not have a room for their own flesh and blood?

My grandma suddenly started crying. "It's my fault. I took up my granddaughter's room. I'm so old, I've just become a burden to my kids."

I felt a flash of guilt. Even though my grandma had always been distant with me, we had lived in the same room for over a decade. I wasn't completely devoid of affection for her. My actions today were a bit extreme.

While I was hesitating, a heavy slap landed on my face.

My dad stood there, hand raised, panting heavily.

"You ungrateful brat. You haven't even achieved anything yet, and you're already discarding your grandma."

My mom frantically tried to stop my dad, then checked my face with concern.

"Emma, we can talk about this at home. Do you really think we wouldn't agree to it?"

I stood there, stunned.

Actually, I had a room of my own for a short time.

But when I was six, my grandpa passed away, and my grandma moved in with us from the countryside.

We lived in a two-bedroom apartment. My parents had one room, and Grandma had to share the other with me.

I wanted my own room and protested from the time I was six until today.

But every time I brought it up, they just laughed it off.

When they got annoyed, they would brush me off:

"You and your grandma are both girls. What's the big deal? Besides, if you don't have enough space for your things, we can just install more shelves."

But I needed an independent space! A room that belonged only to me!

Under the heavy academic pressure of high school, I needed a place to decompress.

I wanted a room filled with things I loved, not my grandma's supplements and drab, dusty clothes.

Grandma snored in her sleep and ground her teeth. She woke up constantly during the night. I rarely got a good night's sleep and would doze off during the day.

During the three days of my SAT exams, my uncle finally took her away.