Dreams Denied

Bailey had a way of pulling me out of my shell. We’d wander around campus, her snapping selfies, me laughing at her goofy poses. Sometimes I’d just watch her, amazed at how easy it seemed for her to shine.

When we went camping in the suburbs, we met a middle-aged man on a road trip. I had a great chat with him, and he shared his experiences from the past few years. Unknowingly, several people at the campsite gathered around to listen to us talk. It was like a small stage, with me and the man in the center. I felt the spotlight, just for a second.

The crackling campfire, the hum of cicadas, and the soft laughter of strangers—it felt like the world was opening up for me. For once, I wasn’t the outsider.

On the way back, Bailey said with interest, “Autumn, I think you’re perfect for being a host. That guy barely said a word at first, but you totally got him talking.”

Another roommate agreed, “Yeah, the more I interact with you, the more I like talking to you. I don’t know how to describe it, it’s just easy to talk to you.”

“Yeah, it’s just really chill talking to you.”

I was embarrassed by their praise. After all, no one had ever said chatting with me was comfortable. I remember in junior high, when I asked my mom for money for class fees, I blushed and couldn’t get the words out. But my brother would joke and easily get twice as much from my mom, and she’d be happy. Then they’d say I wasn’t as socially skilled as my brother, not as sweet-talking. After that, I became even more timid and afraid to speak. I looked down, face burning.

But today, I was praised again and again. Even the man said, “It’s my first time chatting so happily with an eighteen-year-old girl.” I felt like I was finally coming alive.

That night, lying in my sleeping bag, I replayed their words in my head. I realized maybe I had something special after all.

Something that couldn’t be measured by grades or test scores.

Unfortunately, before I could show my talent, life’s difficulties hit me first. Our major’s tuition was $26,000 a year. When I paid, my dad gave me $28,000 in total. He said the extra $2,000 was a reward for traveling after the SATs, but I didn’t use it. I was afraid that if I spent it, they’d say, “You did so badly, and you still have the nerve to travel?”

I kept the money tucked away in an envelope at the back of my drawer, just in case. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sure enough, after more than a month, they hadn’t sent me any living expenses. I only had $200 left. In the class group chat, the president was urging us to pay class fees again. I had no choice but to work up the courage to ask for money. I hesitated for days before finally sending the message. Before they replied, I saw my sister’s post on Instagram. Melissa posted a photo of a Mercedes-Benz and a car key, with the caption, “Twenty-six years old, bought a car in full with my parents’ money.”

I stared at the photo, my stomach twisting. The comments were full of congratulations and heart emojis. I sat there chewing on stale wheat bread, feeling invisible all over again.

In the comments, everyone was busy congratulating her on getting her own car. I chewed on bland bread, feeling a little bitter. No one remembered I was hungry at school, but they were busy planning Melissa’s future. Just then, my mom transferred $1,000 to me, with a note: “We just bought a car for your sister, and Dad and Mom don’t have much money left. You need to be frugal.”

The message was curt, almost like an afterthought.

I stared at the screen, feeling a mix of anger and resignation.

Feeling wronged, I angrily replied, “I can’t even afford to eat at school, and you’re busy buying a car for my sister?”

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. My fingers trembling. For once, I wanted them to know how it felt.

She called me directly. I instinctively felt a little scared and hesitated before answering. “Why didn’t you answer for so long?” My mom sounded impatient on the other end. I regretted questioning them so directly. My throat tightened.

My heart pounded as I listened to her voice, sharp and unforgiving. I could picture her standing in the kitchen, phone pressed to her ear.

Frustration etched into every word.

“What do you mean by that? Who said you can’t afford to eat? Did we ever let you go without food or drink? You asked for living expenses, and I sent it to you right away. Why are you being so sarcastic? Now that you’re in college, you think you’re independent, huh? Autumn, your parents have never mistreated you. If you’re so ungrateful, we raised you for nothing.”

She scolded me harshly, and my mind buzzed, unable to hear anything else. In that moment, whatever love I had left just... vanished. “Okay... I understand.”

I felt numb, like I was floating outside my own body. I wanted to scream, but all I could manage was a whisper.