Blessing in Disguise

Blessing in Disguise (1)

I stare blankly at the email on my computer.

Dear Miss Valerie A. Crest,

We regret to inform you that we are not able to offer you a scholarship this year. As you probably know, we look at each application as a whole so that we could select the most deserving candidate. The number of students applying this year has been exceptionally high, and unfortunately, you did not have the grades to meet the-

The cursor on the screen hovers over the garbage can icon above the email. I press it before I read any more. The email disappears from my inbox just as quickly as it had appeared.

Another rejected scholarship application.

It is my third one so far.

The chair creaks as I sit back into it, my fingers fidgeting on my lap. Over the music blasting in my ears, I can faintly hear my mom cooking in the kitchen.

It's best if she doesn't know about this.

Absentmindedly, I press the keyboard and refresh my inbox.

No new messages.

I still have one scholarship application left under review. There is still a chance for me to enroll this year.

I graduated from high school with good grades. However, the world is full of people who are better than me.

For the past two years after graduating, I have worked my ass off to get the grades I need to get into a proper university in the city.

While studying, I worked with my mother at a hotel down the street. The pay as a housekeeper wasn't much, but it was enough to get me a decent allowance. It will cover the expenses for books, transportation, and food for university at least. That is, if I get enough financial support to be able to pay the tuition fee.

I remove the headphones draped over my ears, and sit in silence.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I stare at the red clock on the wall behind my computer. Save for the red-tinted frame, the walls of my room are colorless and naked.

Strangely, I don't feel crushed about this particular rejection letter. I know it was a bit of a stretch to apply. Still, the taste it left in my mouth was... bitter.

Has rejection finally become the norm for me? Or maybe I'm finally learning to lower the expectations for myself.

Whatever the case, no tears threaten to escape my eyes this time. There is only the hollow feeling of disappointment quietly settling in the pit of my stomach.

I faintly hear mom calling for me to join them for dinner.
I sigh.

Nothing like the taste of failure to build up an appetite on a Friday afternoon.

I lean over the dinner table and blow on the dumplings in the bowl in front of me as grandmother gush about some young man that helped her with her groceries during her trip to the store.

«He wore this expensive suit as if he was going somewhere important,» Grandmother remembers excitedly. She puts her spoon down and traces her fingers gently across the back of her other hand. «Oh, and he had on these elegant, deep brown leather gloves, too.»

I take another bite of my dumpling, scooping a spoonful of soup and blowing on it. Though I can't see it, I imagine my mom nodding absentmindedly on the other side of the table as grandmother continues with her story.