«You’re not asking, I’m offering.» I reached across the table and took his hand. «Brandon, being a doctor is your dream. You’ve wanted this since you were eight years old. Communications? I like it, but I can study that any time. You can’t put medical school on hold. If you leave now, you might never go back.»
We stayed up all night talking about it. Brandon protested, said it wasn’t fair, said he’d find another way. But we both knew there was no other way.
The next week, I withdrew from college. The week after that, I got a full-time job as a cashier at Save Mart and I picked up weekend shifts waiting tables at a diner called Mel’s.
Those first few months weren’t too bad, honestly. I was tired, sure, but I was young and strong, and Brandon was so grateful. He’d come home from class and find me exhausted on the couch, and he’d massage my feet and tell me I was amazing.
He’d help with laundry, cook dinner on weekends, and kiss me goodnight with such tenderness that I knew—absolutely knew—we were building something beautiful together.
«Just a few more years,» he’d whisper. «Then I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything, Grace. I promise.»
I believed him completely. But medical school wasn’t two years. It was four years of constant studying, then residency after that.
By Brandon’s second year, my two jobs weren’t enough anymore. His textbooks alone cost hundreds of dollars. He needed special equipment, a laptop that could handle medical imaging software, and professional clothes for his clinical rotations.
I picked up a third job cleaning offices at night from eight until midnight four days a week. My schedule became brutal. Wake up at five in the morning, get ready, work the cashier counter from seven until two.
Come home, nap for an hour if I was lucky, then clean offices from four until eight. Three nights a week, I’d go straight from cleaning to the diner, waitressing until two in the morning. I’d get home, shower, sleep for three hours, and start over again.
My body started showing the strain. My hands got rough and calloused from cleaning chemicals and carrying heavy trays. I lost weight because I was too tired to eat properly.
I’d grab whatever was quick: crackers, cheap ramen, sometimes just coffee. The dark circles under my eyes became permanent. My college friends stopped calling because I never had time to see them anyway.