Worth the Wait

chapter one

MIA

A soft, chilly breeze sweeps through the window into the car, lifting my curls from my shoulders. I twist my wrist, shaking and aligning the bangles. Tucking a few strands behind my ear, I pull out my phone when I hear the soft ping of an email notification.

My stomach churns as I unlock my phone, skimming through my emails only in time to feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach when I see another rejection.

One would think after receiving so many, that you would be immune to receiving them. But still, I feel the weight pressing on my chest, the sharp inhale that stings my lungs and the sweat that beads and blooms along my dark forehead.

My mom eagerly glances over her shoulder, anxiously awaiting my news. I peer up at her; I pinch my lips together and shake my head slightly. Besides waiting to see if I'll have a source of income after I graduate, it's the looming fear that I'll become a burden to my parents that keeps the renewed sense of hope whenever I get an email.

"It's okay, Meenamma," she reaches behind and squeezes my arm reassuringly, "You'll get something. Don't give up." Her soft smile is heartening, and her dark brown eyes, similar to mine, fill with sympathy, making me push the pinching in my chest aside.

My mother is a beautiful and confident person. She has the confidence that I wish I had.

Moving to a new country, starting over as a young married couple with only broken English and little money to support them, they built a life for me here, thriving in ways I could only imagine.

Growing up, I always had the liberty to make my own choices. My parents were never strict in that regard, allowing me to do as I please. They were, however, unyielding when it came to my whereabouts during high school. As a result, I was to be home right after school, didn't take up a part-time job, and didn't have many friends to hang out with.

They were often worried about my safety—the most common fear amongst immigrant parents.

I thought this would prevent me from pursuing the renowned arts program at the University of North Cardill—or UNC as everyone calls it. Located across the country in Cardill, Pennsylvania—a small town south of Pittsburgh, I was sure my parents wouldn't allow it, at least to guarantee their ability to ensure I was safe.

But they surprised me by being supportive.

However, lately, I'm finding a strain on that autonomy.

I'm heading into my last semester before graduating with a Fine Arts and Art History degree. As I now apply for jobs, being on the receiving end of rejections and often unanswered job applications, I wonder if I've been a tad bit liberal with my choices.

My relatives chastised me for the lifestyle that I have. They criticized me for not pursuing a traditional job that is deemed well-off. But my parents never took notice of that. Instead, they allowed me the space to make whatever choices I wanted.

Things have been easier for me, and I'm aware of that, so I try not to take advantage. But this caused me to bury many of my thoughts and feelings because I didn't want to appear ungrateful. My problems seemed to be privileged in the grand scheme of things. My cousins are forced to study highly regarded programs that are so financially driven that it doesn't seem right to bring forth my concerns.

Despite not wanting to take advantage, I wonder if I perhaps had. I wonder if I accrued a debt of $80k for nothing. The anxiety that I'll have spent all this time and money on a degree only to get a job that has nothing to do with said degree plagues me. And the feeling is exacerbated with each rejection.