It’s a sunny Friday morning in the heart of summer, and while others might disagree, there’s something about mornings like these that always makes me feel it’s the best season of all.
Except for today.
The email I’d been waiting for, with breath held in anticipation, finally arrived. And, of course, today was the day I had to be rejected.
That’s right—they rejected me.
What would Mom say if she found out? I couldn’t bear to tell her. Dinner would be here soon, and I knew she’d ask if I’d heard from them yet.
How could I even look her in the eye?
Dinnertime was a special time for my family. Every 7 PM, the family gathered in the dining room. We’d start with grace, then relax and bond like family.
Mom’s work kept her busy, forcing Dad to implement a 7 PM rule: no devices, only family time for discussion.
So yeah, there was no escaping mom.
I liked that, as a kid, we’d sit around the table talking about school, friends, and whatnot. But now, sitting here with shaky legs and sweaty, clenched palms, it was my least favorite moment of the day. Arguably, of the year.
Blue eyes, wild and curious, stared at me from across the table. Mom’s fingers tapped at the polished wood, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart. She was waiting for an answer I didn’t have.
“Charlotte, I’m waiting for you.”
Silence.
The tension was unbearable, thick enough to choke on. Dad let out a small cackle, trying to lighten the mood. He always tried. But this time, he couldn’t even diffuse it.
“They haven’t sent a message,” I blurted out. The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn’t stop it. They had sent a message. And they rejected me. It wasn’t their fault; my grades weren’t good enough. Harvard was competitive, and I hadn’t made it.
“I cannot believe this.” Mom’s disappointment was palpable. Her frown deepened, and she shook her head. “Two of my colleagues’ children have been accepted. So what’s delaying yours?”
Pinpricks of guilt stabbed me everywhere, like a thousand needles pressing against my skin. I’d flunked my chance at Harvard. The words bubbled up, but I couldn’t say them. I couldn’t tell her that her not-so-perfect daughter wasn’t going to Harvard, that I’d failed.
“It’ll come,” Dad said, his voice soft and reassuring. “We just need a little patience.”
“That’s what you’ve been saying for weeks.” She didn’t even look at him. She gazed at me sharply. “Remind them.”
“I’ll do that once I get to my room.” My head hung low. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. If I did, I knew I’d break.
“I suggest you check the email now so—”
“This is family time,” Dad interrupted, his voice firmer this time. “Our rule still stands. No phones, no emails. She can handle it later.”
Mom didn’t argue, but how she pursed her lips told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t letting this go. I could feel her disappointment, thick and suffocating like a blanket of smoke, and it settled over me in waves.
My heart pounded harder, the pressure unbearable. My palms were slick with sweat, and my chest felt tight. How was I supposed to tell her? How could I look her in the eyes and say I’d failed?
“Char, come help me with the food,” Dad said, standing up and moving toward the kitchenette.
I practically shot out of my chair. My legs felt weak, but I didn’t care. This was my escape, however brief it might be. I needed to breathe, to distance myself from Mom’s piercing stare, even if it was only for a minute.
I followed him into the kitchen, my steps unsteady. But at least here, away from the dining table, I could breathe again.
I took the small steaming pot of spaghetti carbonara to the dining table while Dad carried a plate of roasted vegetables and set it down. There was also a salad bowl, garlic bread, and a water pitcher. It was a classic, easy New York dinner—simple enough, but it felt heavy tonight.
Thankfully, the conversation shifted to something lighter as we started eating. Dad went on about his day at work, telling stories about his office meetings and some projects they were working on. Mom, as usual, didn’t speak while eating. It was one of her many rules about good etiquette. So, Dad did most of the talking, filling the space with his usual easygoing chatter.
“What about you, Char? Any plans for the summer before college starts?” he asked after a while, turning his eyes on me.
“Nothing exciting,” I said as I twirled a spoonful of spaghetti with my fork.
He nodded, but I saw the twinkle in his eyes. He was up to something. Planning a surprise trip or something. Meanwhile, Mom just sat there, barely acknowledging the conversation, looking bored.
Usually, I’d keep the conversation going with Dad, but tonight, I didn’t have it in me. I let him carry on alone, nodding when necessary, but the lightness I used to feel during these dinners was gone.
When the clock struck 8 PM, the sky outside lit up with a bright flash, followed by the deep rumble of thunder. It was like the universe reminding me of what was coming, what I had to face. And sure enough, Mom’s piercing stare was back on me.
“Don’t forget to send them an email tonight, Charlotte.” And with that, she stood and walked upstairs, leaving me there in the tense quiet.
Dad got up, patted my back softly, and leaned in close. “Don’t you worry? Everything will work out fine.”
“Yeah, hopefully,” I whispered.
But I didn’t believe it. Before I told Mom the truth, I needed a plan to soften the blow—something to make her happy and lessen the weight of the disappointment I was about to deliver.
Because when I did, there would be no taking it back.
The phone rang three times before Jessica picked up. Her face appeared on my screen, eyes slightly bloodshot, dark circles etched beneath them. Her hair looked like a tangled mess, and it looked as if she’d spent hours hunched over her desk, likely working on one of her endless research projects.
“What is it, Charlotte?”
“Hello, sister.”
“I’m quite busy now, so if what you want to tell me isn’t important, we can have this conversation later.” She flicked her hair back and blew a heavy breath—typical Jessica. She has always been busy since the moment she set foot in Harvard.
“When will you be free and have time for me?”
“Umm…” She scratched her head, glancing at something off-screen. “I don’t know.”
That answer translated to “never” in Jessica’s language. But I needed her. Jessica was Mom’s favorite person in the world and could tell me exactly what to do to make Mom happy. She could turn this situation around for me, no doubt.
I had my list of things I could do, like buy Mom an expensive bag or some jewelry. Or taking her precious dog Kyle for walks and pampering him for a week. But Mom was cold, like a freezer, and those gestures wouldn’t melt her. Not when it was me. But Jessica? A smile from her and Mom’s mood would brighten like the sun breaking through clouds.
“I need something. A favor.” I flopped down onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Let it out.”
“Mom’s been stressed lately, and I want to do something to make her happy. I desperately need your help with that.”
“Seriously, Charlotte? That’s why you’re calling me? I have an assignment due at 7 AM, and I seriously don’t have time for this.”
“Sis, come on.” I batted my eyelashes, even though she couldn’t see me clearly through the phone screen. It always worked on her.
Jessica sighed, rolling her eyes. “Do something simple for her, like cook dinner or something, and tell her you love her. It’s that simple.”
Simple? Hardly. I wasn’t the golden child. Still, I’d try it. What other choice did I have?
“Thank you.”
There was a pause, and then Jessica’s voice sharpened slightly. “Mom told me you’re waiting for an acceptance letter from Harvard and Columbia. What’s up with that?”
Shit. Not Jessica, too. The last thing I needed was to do this now.
“You can go back to your assignment.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Char, is everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“If you say so. Remember, I’m always here for you, right?” Her voice softened momentarily before the screen flickered, and she disconnected the call, already back to her academic grind.
Had that gone well? Not really. Now, I had to figure out how to cook something halfway decent. It was time to find a YouTube video or read a cookbook because I was a terrible cook.
And practice telling Mom I love her because we have never said the L-word to each other.
Great. Just great.