Carl says, his voice and aspect heavy, "This house is a huge weight around our necks. I cannot describe how much I feel like a hostage, a prisoner here. I have never known what it is like to have an ordinary life. Except for my three years of adolescent rebellion on the streets of Amsterdam, I have always lived under my mother's shadow and at her behest. So, you will all understand my evident lack of enthusiasm about her visit here."
"Carl, she is our mother", says Melissa.
"Oh, shut up", he barks, but more like a low growl. "She is our fucking jailer. For me, nothing would please me more than getting my sorry ass out of this sprawling farce."
"But you can't go" his sister says calmly, "And you know this, so might as well stop complaining."
"I'm outa here, Mel."
"You know you can't go. So let's just get over it, shall we?" she says flatly.
"Mel, if you're afraid of being left alone here, don't. Come with me. We could live with Chris. Or with Maureen and Jenn and Sarah. We don't have to stay here. And you know something else? We're not exactly poor, Even in legendarily expensive Vancouver, you and I could afford to find a decent place to live, with room to spare for the others."
"But we can't leave the house. We have responsibilities here."
"Our mother has responsibilities here. Shouldn't we make it her problem and stop letting her outsource to us her own shit?"
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