Daniela drove to work on Monday morning feeling relieved. She had definitely made up her mind. She would take the time off to travel to Europe with Nicasio—not only as a remedy for any new entanglements, but for the continued introspection she so desperately needed. Though still not apprised of any details about Nicasio's current project, she remembered what he had told her if she decided to join him. It was a promise to let her in on his work, and Daniela felt now she was never more ready for that and the European excursion.

Having responded coolly to Nicasio's silence all weekend, she decided that he was in the midst of preparations for his trip with his advisor, and frankly did not want to appear too eager to see him. Perhaps by Monday evening, when she was certain they would be in contact, it would be better to discuss her decision.

She thought of the trip often throughout her workday, and by two o'clock was already gaining her courage to notify Mr. Cuomo of her plans to be out of the studio for at least a week. She even thought of texting Nicasio with the news, but realized to surprise him would be better when they met up that night. She went about closing her computers, tidying her desk, and began watering the plants in the corners of her office in some futile gesture of hope that all things with her job would be relatively the same when she returned. Frankly, however, she did not care if they would or would not. And seeing and hearing her boss already in a foul mood with Vicky by midday, Daniela decided to breech the decision to inform him first thing the next morning.

An hour and a half later, Daniela closed her office and left for the parking garage characteristically fast. She wondered as she drove her Mercedes Smart through the downtown traffic and entered onto a thoroughfare to the Portola district why she had not taken more time off to travel before. Her parents had always encouraged it. But summer after summer she had declined to attend any 'study abroad' programs as a high school student, and even later rejected more adventurous opportunities while at university in Santa Barbara. So many times she remembered her parents bringing home the shiny brochures of far away places to entice her into travel. But at each turn she had argued with them, opting instead for the 'safe' life, comfortably close to her home. Daniela always preferred to pour herself into the drawings and paintings which she had surrounded herself with at the time, and anticipated only her visits to the riding club. Now feeling she was in a different zone, and noticeably emboldened each day, safety no longer seemed her main priority. Thoughts only of packing essential clothing and whatever else she might need minimally in a foreign country were what newly occupied her thoughts.

Returning home that evening, Daniela entered the house and found her mother in a state of exhaustion preparing to take her uncle to the airport. He had mentioned earlier in one of the family's all night discussions that he would spend some time with their younger sister who lived in San Diego—though everyone knew this was more about financial and emotional support than a visit. Now surprisingly, as Daniela entered the front door and sensed the house was in a state of genuine disarray, it seemed his departure would really happen.

"Oh . . . Daniela! Glad you're home, Hon."

Her mother practically collided with her in the entryway.

"Can you go back and see if your uncle has left any suitcases in the guest room? His taxi will be here any minute. My God! Where is he?" She turned and sprinted away shouting back behind her, "Hurry, Honey!"

Daniela calmly walked to the opposite end of the house on the first floor and diligently looked into the bedroom where her uncle had been staying. The maid had already tidied up the room and she could see there was indeed a brown carry-on bag left on the corner of the bed. She mindlessly picked it up and returned with it to the entryway where her uncle's other baggage was stacked monolithically, ready to be ferried to the airport.

"Mom . . . ?"

Daniela tried to make eye contact with her mother as she reappeared, but realized that wasn't going to happen during the theater of her uncle's departure.

"Mom? We really need to talk sometime soon . . . OK?" Again she saw no response. "It's about my job, Mom . . . Mother?"

Her mother remained inattentive, seeming to be mentally elsewhere under the pressure to get her intractable brother-in-law out of the house and on his way.

"Oh! Now please! Where did he go?" She now seemed visibly stressed. Looking around the room as if the man had suddenly vanished, her mother hurriedly looked out onto the street, noticing a taxi had just rolled up to the gate.

"Michael? Michael!" She shouted into the house. "Your ride to the airport is here!"

Suddenly her uncle, wearing a black pair of Bermuda shorts and a green and red Hawaiian print shirt with flowers, appeared in the entryway where Daniela, her mother, and the maid, were standing silently, motionlessly. It entered Daniela's thoughts that her eccentric uncle had finally and completely lost his mind, believing he was off on some luxurious adventure to the tropics rather than merely seeking refuge from his financial ruin and depression in San Diego.

She remembered him saying he had not seen her aunt Catherine in over a year, but Daniela knew it had been much longer. Over the past week she had learned perhaps too much about his business failure, the bankruptcy, and the immanent foreclosure of his large home near Boston. All of these details and her uncle's inability to handle his life were the unpleasant details Daniela had been reluctantly privy to. And she had been captive to the whole ordeal, overhearing conversations she tried to avoid each evening while the man sat as the catatonic centerpiece in the house. During these lengthy sessions her father seemed absurdly to both ask and answer the questions carefully fed to him.

"Mom? I'm serious, can we talk soon? It's important!"

Once again her mother just passed her in the entryway, directing the taxi driver inside to carry out the luggage. Michael calmly walked out behind him following the last load of his belongings and pathetically leaving the premises with his head down. He moved in his characteristic, slow-motion, turning only once to wave back at them all, distantly and robotically. As the taxi sped away, Daniela's mother finally reentered the house and closed the door. She was obviously relieved, taking in a deep breath then letting it out dramatically. There seemed some well-anticipated closure to the whole process as the wall clock in the hallway chimed what seemed to be a death knell.

"OK, now. . . Daniela? What were you saying?"

Her mother was wiping away tears on her cheeks and fluffing up her hair on one side of her head.

"I'm sorry darling. Something about . . . your work?" Using a handkerchief, she dabbed the perspiration on her forehead and the visible moisture from her eyes.

"Well Mom, yeah . . . I'm going to take a leave . . . quit for a while. I just need some time off, that's all."

Her mother looked at her for the first time since she entered the house.

"Dani? Is everything alright? Are you are getting along with the employees down there at the studio?"

"Yes mom . . . everyone. In fact, they admire me these days."

"Well then . . . sit down baby. What's the matter?"

"There's nothing the matter, Mom."

Daniela defiantly remained standing in front of one of the two beige settees which lined the walls of the foyer.

"I'm just very tired of my life right now and . . . I really just need to travel. That's all."

Her mother was silent. Frozen, but with an arresting look.

"Dani, I think we should continue this conversation when your father gets home. I want him to hear what you're saying here."

"No, Mom, there's nothing to discuss. I'm taking a leave beginning this week or next. I'll return by the middle of the month. That's it. No problem."

"Dani? Just where did you get this brilliant idea? What does Nicasio say about all this?"

"That's exactly it Mom. His project is now moving over to Greece with Cal. He has to attend. And he's invited me along. The school will pay for both of us. And well . . . I've decided to go. It's simple really . . . so don't even try to change my mind."

"What? Well, we'll see about that, young lady. I really don't want to hear any more about this until your father get's home. Now you just. . ."

Daniela simply walked past her and stepped into the small, antique elevator. The noisy contraption automatically closed its door when anyone entered. It hummed briefly while in route and then a tasteful little bell rang as its door slid open at the third floor. It was there where Daniela's bedroom, bathroom and study were conveniently connected.

Entering her domain she glanced briefly out over the Pacific from her large bay window. She then paused a moment and looked out with greater concern and interest toward the darkening sea. She thought about the ocean on the other side of the country. She would be crossing it soon, she mused. And couldn't help but wonder what feelings she would have there, being in a new, but also much older world. The resolve she had just displayed to her mother, to take affairs into her own hands, buoyed up her confidence once more. She also wondered, a bit angry with herself, why she had not been able to show such conviction and resolve before concerning her decisions—why only now, in her mid-twenties? It was a direction she wanted to pursue.

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