Chapter 4
Broken Dreams
Eight Months Prior
Melissa
Life was full of decisions and opportunities but also loss and disappointment. When I was about ten years old, my parents and I went to Chicago on vacation. We visited all the usual tourist activities. One of the attractions in a neighboring city included a trip to Northwestern University. Immediately, it captivated my heart. The world-renowned history and culture came to life, and I begged for more information. I fell in love and dreamed of becoming a student there, a place recognized for greatness both internationally and nationally. So many great scholars had walked along the paths at Northwestern, and I wanted to follow those same tracks to my future. My determination to attend Northwestern kept me focused and ensured I would find a way to live my dream.
I spent the next seven years studying, achieving high grades with the hopes of a scholarship to offset some of the expenses. From the time I entered high school, weekends were spent prepping and reviewing for the SAT. The only time I set my academics aside was when I was at work. I didn’t have time to socialize. Admittance to Northwestern was more critical than interaction in my mind. I didn’t realize how much I lost until I didn't have many friendships left. Life went on without me in my quest for success.
At the beginning of my senior year, I filled out the application to Northwestern. A section of the application asked why I wanted to attend this university and what were my future goals. I completed the form, listing all the reasons why Northwestern was my first choice of higher education. I explained that I wished to be part of the history associated with Northwestern, that I had since I was ten years old. I believed that it was the place where I would be able to receive an excellent education; after all, it was one of the top business schools in the nation.
At seventeen, I didn’t understand how quickly life could change, virtually in the blink of an eye. I was naïve with the mindset that nothing bad would ever happen to me. I received a rude awakening a few weeks after my birthday when my father was involved in a car accident. Someone ran his car off the road and into a shallow ditch. The other driver didn’t stop and never was found. That person just left my father in a mangled car until an anonymous caller reported the accident. By the time the fire department rescued him, he’d been trapped in his car for over an hour. His recovery was slow, leaving him unable to work, and without his paycheck, my parents struggled financially. They were forced to use the money they’d put aside for my college fund for everyday expenses. No matter how much my parents wanted to help me with college costs, that one accident made it financially impossible.
Nevertheless, my dream stayed intact, even if I had to work harder than expected to reach my dream to attend Northwestern. The obstacles only made me more determined.
Though my father’s accident and parents' financial struggle left so much of my future uncertain, I believed I’d earned a place in my dream school. Days before my graduation I received the letter from Northwestern about my scholarship application. My hands shook as I ripped open the envelope and read the words that changed my life forever.
Dear Miss Summers,
Thank you for your application submission to Northwestern University. We’re honored you chose our school as one of your college options. However, we regret to inform you that your application for a full-paid scholarship was not approved. We are confident with your high GPA and SAT score that another college will be able to accept and accommodate your financial needs. We urge you to reapply in the spring semester as new grants and scholarships open yearly.
Devastated wouldn’t have been close to the correct term I would use to describe my reaction. I stared at the letter, but the words blurred. A single teardrop fell on the paper, smudging the ink. I should have expected it. I should have sent other applications back in December when I called about the status of my application. It was still under review—they were waiting for final approval and funding for several grants.
The letter dropped to the floor as I ran to my room and locked the door. I needed time to process the rejection. I’d worked so hard to achieve my dream—valedictorian and 1590 on my SATs. I knew other students had gotten into their choice college with lower scores, but maybe they hadn’t requested a full ride. The wind was knocked out of me. Northwestern didn't want me. As painful as that was to admit, it didn’t change the fact that I still wanted to be a part of Northwestern.
I walked through the next few days in a haze. Nothing interested me anymore, including the address to my classmates that I was required to give at graduation. The speech I had prepared no longer held relevance to me. I felt like a kite lost in the wind with no string to guide me. I wanted to kick and scream at the top of my lungs, proclaiming that it wasn’t fair. All the time I’d spent in school and work and the lost friendships were all for nothing. If I learned anything in the last year, it was that life wasn’t always fair.
I pushed through the heartache even though I didn’t want to sit on that stage. I refused to let anyone know my shortcomings, my failures. Lost and emotionally drained, I stood at the podium and gave my speech. I spoke of dreams and opportunities, made empty promises that if my fellow students worked hard enough, dreams would come true. My address ended with the hope that one day we would all see our dreams fulfilled. I stood with confidence in my words, my eyes hiding the pain, my heart bleeding with every lie that came out of my mouth. I forbade my failure to be identified by anyone. Everyone assumed that I would attend Northwestern. In the event that someone would ask for confirmation, I would smile and assure them that everything was in place. They didn’t need to know the truth. They hadn’t earned the right to my pain—no one had. I just couldn't say that Northwestern had rejected me. I wouldn’t. It was still my dream.
My mother’s best friend had set up a little graduation dinner for me before we learned of my rejection from Northwestern. I didn’t feel festive. What was there to celebrate over graduating high school? In my mind, that wasn't a huge accomplishment. My mother liked to say that the university hadn’t rejected me; they’d declined a full scholarship. She could wrap all the pretty paper around the truth that she wanted to, but it was still bullshit. Whether they excluded, refused, or rejected my entrance to their university, it boiled down to one thing: I wasn’t good enough.
I argued with my mother most of the day to cancel the dinner. I had maintained and hidden my disappointment, showing fake happiness through my graduation. They were people I didn’t care about, but my mother’s friend was different. She’d been like an aunt to me. I wasn’t sure I would be able to fake enjoyment with people I cared about.
"Melissa, I know you’re disappointed, but this could be a good thing. You can attend college closer to home. Besides, Regina already made the reservation, and you always loved your time with Regina."
"Mom, I don't want to go."
"Darling, Regina said Peyton would be there, and she said she would talk to him about a possible job at his company. It would look bad if you didn’t show up. The job won’t be anything fancy, but it will undoubtedly pay more than you make now."
“So this isn't a celebration—it’s a job interview?” I snarled back. “And why is Peyton going to be there? I’ve met him, like, once or twice.”
“I don’t know why he’s coming. Regina asked him to come so they could spend more time together. According to her, they’ve been trying to work on their marriage.”
“Great, so it’s a job interview, marriage-building session, and celebration dinner.”
The sarcasm didn’t make my mother happy. My mother was beautiful with bright green eyes and dark brown hair cut short in the back and longer in the front.
"That’s enough. I’ve had about enough of your mouth, Melissa. You’re smart. You can still apply to another college for the fall semester, one closer to home… maybe even take online classes at first and reapply to Northwestern for spring. Maybe more grants will be available.”
"Sure, Mom, Northwestern wasn't something I dreamed about since I was, like what, ten." The hurt was evident in my voice—or maybe it was pure anger. Deep down I was angry at everyone and everything. I was upset with the person who’d hit my father and caused the financial hardship, at my parents for not planning better for my college, at Northwestern for not accepting me, and more than any of those, I was mad at myself for not working harder. I’d failed, and it cost me my dream.
"Stop! It was a dream. Now face reality, Melissa."
"Mom."
"Don't want to hear it. Get your butt in the shower so that we aren't late. Regina wanted to do something special for you—don’t ruin her night, too."
"Whatever. I'll go, but don't expect me to pass this job interview." I knew it was rude, but at the moment I didn't give a fuck.
"Watch it, get yourself changed, and while you are at it, adjust that attitude. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
What the hell did she expect from me—to be happy? Northwestern had been my dream, and now it was gone. Why didn’t she understand? It wasn’t just disappointment I felt but like a piece of me had died. Since receiving the rejection letter, I’d spent hours every day lamenting my worth. The confidence to succeed in college was no longer a certainty. What if I wasn’t smart enough?
That letter was not only my downfall, but would become the path that led to a series of decisions never to be reversed.
Regina had made a reservation at a little restaurant in Myrtle Beach. Before we left, I threw one more spoiled-brat tantrum, begged and pleaded not to have to go. It didn’t work, and there we were, about to walk into the restaurant thirty minutes late. The look my mom gave my dad after she texted Regina made me even more nervous. I’d only met Regina's husband a few times, but I’d overheard stories. From all accounts, he was a dick, one who didn’t tolerate anything—especially tardiness.
Peyton and Regina were seated at a table that overlooked the ocean. As we approached, my mother whispered, “Peyton doesn’t look happy.”
My mother was right. His expression frightened me. And then I felt worse because as scary as Peyton looked, Regina looked even more terrified. Peyton stood up as we approached. He shook my father's hand as my mother and I hugged Regina. My father pulled the chair out for my mother while Peyton pulled the empty chair next to him out for me.
Peyton continued to stand until I sat and pushed my chair beneath the table. He said something under his breath that I swore sounded like “this shit won't happen much longer.”
“I’m sorry we are late...” my mother continued.
Peyton looked around the table, smiled, and interjected. "Please, don't mention it again. Let's just enjoy a night with friends."
Regina and my mother stared at each other in shock at his response. I heard the last time someone was late, he’d reprimanded them for wasting his valuable time. Friend or not, he didn’t care. Peyton was a successful businessman, and he had high expectations for himself and everyone around him. He didn't tolerate rules broken without penalties, and I was positive that punctuality was one thing he demanded.
Peyton turned toward me as the words passed his lips, and our eyes met. He appeared relaxed. The arch of his brow lifted, and his eyes bore into me as if he could read my every thought. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or the way he gazed at me, but my stomach clenched. His expression gave me chills. Strangely, I wasn’t sure if the way he looked at me scared or excited me. What the fuck—why was I even thinking thoughts like this? He was married to my mother's oldest and best friend.
Regina was my mom’s age, but she looked more like a trophy wife. Her blond hair was perfectly styled with large waves that hung over her shoulders. Regina’s makeup always looked like she’d just walked out of a magazine photo shoot.
Peyton was a little older than my parents and Regina, yet he looked handsomer than men half his age. When he’d stood to help me with my chair, I noticed that he was at least six inches taller than me, and I was wearing three-inch heels. He was lean but muscular; his black designer suit fit perfectly. One could wonder what it hid. His black hair was peppered with a little gray, and he wore a five o'clock shadow, which was also highlighted with gray. He had a square jaw, high cheekbones, and dark brown eyes that commanded attention. Peyton was sexy as hell, and his presence—for some unknown reason—brought a sense of peace to me.
Laughter and conversation filled the table. Peyton commented and joined the conversation a few times, but he mostly listened and watched. I observed him too. For some reason, he intrigued me. To anyone who viewed our table from the outside, he appeared as involved in the discussion as his wife and my parents, but that wasn’t the reality. His boredom was evident to me while the rest of the world saw an animated persona.
Once the conversation turned to my college plans, I was done. For the first time in over a week, I actually felt something again. And the mere mention of Northwestern took me right back to where I had been before dinner. The sad story of my rejection filled the table. I refused to listen anymore. I already knew this chapter in my life and didn't need to reread it. The charade was over, and so was the night. I wasn’t sure if I cried for the anger or the hurt. I pushed my chair back and left the table. I needed fresh air. My parents would text me when they were ready to go. Until then, I wanted to be alone.
The sky had darkened, and the temperature cooled since we’d entered the restaurant. I walked along the shore with the sand between my toes until I found the perfect spot to sit. My feet hung in the shallow water that surrounded a large rock. It was hard and uncomfortable, but it was peaceful. I lost time listening to the waves crashing the shore and watching the moonlight shining down on the dark water. I’d visited this beach a hundred times, but I’d never taken the time to really take in all the sounds and smells. It was refreshing and freeing. It could be so easy to lose myself in such a peaceful place. I closed my eyes and let the wind temporarily take all my pain away.