It’s Not That I Didn’t Wait, It’s That You Never Chose Me Chapter 02

It’s Not That I Didn’t Wait, It’s That You Never Chose Me Chapter 02

I took a slow breath and texted back: [He loved it. He had a massive bowl of rice with it tonight.]

Then I turned off my screen.

At the table, Adrian was carefully picking fish bones out for Bryce.

“The faculty advisor in the arts school has a fickle personality,” he said in that same patient voice.

“Your interview’s tomorrow, so I’ll take you to meet him myself.”

He went over every little detail with quiet care.

I couldn’t stay there for another second. I turned around, went into the bedroom, and locked the door.

Early the next morning, I took my sister’s score report and went by myself to Adrian’s university.

That day was the citywide college admissions open house. The weather was brutally humid, thick enough to make breathing feel like work.

The moment I reached the admissions help desk inside the campus arena, I stopped dead.

There, at the far edge of the table, stood a figure I knew instantly.

My father.

He hadn’t gone home at all.

To save a lousy twenty bucks on a cheap motel, he had spent the night who knew where.

His white shirt was wrinkled like a crumpled paper bag, his back soaked completely through with sweat.

He was clutching a little notebook so tightly his knuckles had gone white, bowing and nodding as he asked a young admissions volunteer for help.

“Excuse me,” he said, voice full of careful humility. “Could you please help me out? My younger daughter got a 1510. Does she have a shot at the direct-admit BS/MD program?”

The volunteer was already annoyed. He waved him off impatiently. “Sir, the program baseline admissions aren’t final yet. Could you stop blocking the walkway?”

My father was shoved back two steps and accidentally stepped on someone else’s foot.

“Sorry. I’m sorry…” he said in a panic, apologizing over and over with his eyes cast down.

The pain in my chest hit so hard I could barely breathe. I was just about to run over to him when the reserved side entrance to the arena swung open.

Adrian stepped out in a sharp suit, with Vanessa and Bryce beside him.

Walking with them was Dean Whitaker from the School of the Arts.

“Adrian, since you’re personally backing this student, we’ll definitely give his file special attention,” the dean said with a smile.

Adrian dipped his head slightly, humble and polished to perfection.

“Bryce may be weak academically, but he’s got real artistic instinct. I’d appreciate any guidance you can give him going forward.”

That was the exact moment my father saw him.

He went still.

Then his cloudy eyes lit up all at once, like a drowning man spotting a life raft.

Clutching the little notebook to his chest, he hurried forward.

“Son-in-law! Son-in-law!”

Adrian stopped walking.

He turned and looked at my father, at the sweat running down his face, at his cheap wrinkled clothes. Students and parents all around us turned to stare.

The dean looked at my father in surprise. “Adrian, do you know this gentleman?”

Adrian looked at my father’s hand, still lifted helplessly in the air.

He didn’t even frown.

“No.”

Then he added, calm as ever, “Probably just a parent asking for admissions brochures.”

My father went rigid.

His outstretched hand shook. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Adrian turned to the campus security guard nearby. “Could you maintain order, please? Don’t let random people crowd the dean.”

The guard immediately stepped forward and shoved my father aside.

He staggered backward into the wall, clutching that notebook with my sister’s score like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Then he lowered his head and bent at the waist, smaller than I had ever seen him.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I mistook you for someone else.”