Chapter 30
Spring Break, Chicago, Illinois
Hayes
One year ago
“Hello, Mr. Brady, welcome back, and Mr. Hayes Carter, I assume. Welcome to the Mont Rouge.” The elegantly uniformed doorman spun open the revolving door and smiled as we entered the five-star hotel right off Magnificent Mile.
Brady was in charge of the accommodations here.
I looked down at my sloppy clothes from a day of driving and tried to pull my jacket tighter to cover them.
A grey-haired woman in a black gown sat at a grand piano in the center of the lobby was playing soft classical music.
As we made our way across the polished marble floors, I kept looking back to see if I’d tracked in mud from when I had to refill the antifreeze on the side of the highway.
When we got to the check-in desk, a woman typed something into the computer and when she read our names she let out a sharp “Oh,” but then tried to cover her reaction.
“Please excuse me. I am sure Mr. Rensen will want to make sure everything meets your approval.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Brady said, but she was gone before he could stop her and a man appeared with the same smile I saw most of the employees wearing.
“Hello, Mr. Gibson. I am delighted to be helping you and your friend today. You have a room on the penthouse floor, of course.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Brady said with a weak smile. “I booked a standard room.”
“Well, of course, but we thought the penthouse would be more comfortable.” I knew Brady’s parents stayed here often for work and they were on some board so I guessed the hotel wanted to please their loyal guests. Still, I felt my shoulders rise to my ears in embarrassment over being “waited on.”
“I have my interview soon. I better go up and change and get ready,” I said, shifting my attention from the present moment to the reason we were in Chicago in the first place, my interview at Ellis Medical.
We rode the elevator up to our room and the even hum of the machinery helped everything else fade into the background.
I had already gotten into my dream medical school, North Boston, and I was planning to take a year off and work to save enough money to cover the balance from the partial scholarship I received.
But when I found out I was a finalist for a full scholarship at Ellis Medical, I had to at least consider the opportunity.
I could start school in a few months instead of over a year.
I was proud to be a finalist, but to earn the award, I had to ace the interview.
We got to the room and I opened my worn-out backpack and started to find the suit I had packed for the interview when I saw a garment bag on the bed with my name on it in fancy script.
“What’s that?” I asked. Brady looked uncomfortable.
He put his hand to his mouth and chewed his nails.
I brushed my fingers over the rich texture of the note card and then opened it.
It simply said, “For your interview. Best of luck. Michael and Eleanor Gibson.” I pulled down the zipper to see the label.
Tom Ford. A navy-blue jacket with a pair of pants hung neatly on a hanger.
I didn’t know the designer but from the cut and stitching, I could tell it wasn’t from Shinemart.
“Why did your parents buy me a suit?” I asked.
It was kind of them, of course. We were planning on meeting them tomorrow night, but the very thought of that made me so nervous I needed to push it out until after the interview.
I had told Brady many times that expensive gifts made me uncomfortable.
I could never return the generosity in kind.
“Who knows?” He shrugged and tried to blow off the whole thing, waving his hands in front of his face. “I’m sure it will look great on you.”
“How do they even know my size?” I asked, examining the inside jacket and seeing that they had in fact ordered the right one.
Brady looked down at the ground. “I may or may not have helped them with that.”
I did not like how this was playing out. I understood he couldn’t control his parents, but aiding and abetting was a crime unto itself.
“Brady, I told you. I don’t want to be anyone’s charity case,” I said.
I could feel the anger rising in my throat.
I hated the way rich people felt that people like me needed help in some way.
“I need to get ready,” I said. I wanted to walk into my interview with a clear head.
“I still have to shower, change and find my way to campus on the bus. Not to mention iron my suit. The one I brought.”
“Hayes, wear this one. It’s perfectly crisp and ready.” He unzipped the rest of the garment bag and began brushing some fuzz off the lapel. “It will save you so much time. You can’t show up looking like you slept in your clothes.”
“They want to know if I have what it takes to become a doctor. I’m not auditioning for Project Runway,” I said. My gut was telling me something was off.
“First impressions are important,” he said.
I looked at my watch again. I really didn’t have time to iron anything, and it wasn’t a job I was very good at either.
I took the fastest, hottest shower I could and when I came out Brady had the suit over his arm like a valet. He bowed, making a joke of the whole thing to make it easier for me. I didn’t have another option at that point.
I kissed Brady goodbye and headed off to my interview.
When I arrived, I stopped in the bathroom to gather my thoughts and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I couldn’t help but realize how nice the suit looked.
The clean lines and expensive fabric made me feel important and gave me a tiny boost of confidence.
Why had I been such a pill with Brady before?
He was only trying to help. I thought of different ways I could thank the Gibsons after my interview.
Everything started off perfectly. I was impressed with the campus tour and the students I met, and everyone treated me incredibly nicely.
I was even interviewed by the dean of the medical school, which surprised me.
Usually someone from admissions would handle this but I understood it to mean they were taking my application seriously.
I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and let Brady know how well it had gone.
I thought about kissing him and hugging him tightly, swinging him high enough that his feet dangled in the air.
But as we were walking out of the admissions office, I thanked the dean and he said, “Make sure to give Michael and Eleanor my best,” as he was shaking my hand.
“Who?” I asked. Then I remembered where I had seen both of those names. “You mean the Gibsons?” Why would he want me to give his best to my boyfriend’s parents? “How do you know them?”
He gave me a smile that was half patronizing and half confusion.
Then he pointed across from the entrance where we were standing.
I looked closely at the stately, newly finished chemistry labs and suddenly put it all together.
I could feel the collar of my shirt tightening around my neck.
I dug my fingers in between my skin and the fabric for relief and could feel my aorta throbbing.
Gibson Hall.
I saw it during the tour but I was so focused on making a good impression during my interview that I didn’t put it together.
“The Gibsons are among our most generous donors. When they asked me to come in and do your interview myself, I admit I didn’t expect to meet such an exceptional candidate. It was a pleasure meeting you, Hayes. I’m sure admissions will be in touch with good news soon.”
The dean left and I stood there for a few minutes, my mind going over all of the conversations about me, and without me, that must have happened. I squeezed my eyes tightly, trying to erase the thoughts.
I walked back to the bus stop where I had gotten off earlier, even though the spring weather had turned unseasonably cold, with flurries promising a storm from the grey clouds above.
I took off my expensive Tom Ford jacket and threw it in the trash can before I boarded the bus.
I didn’t want anything to do with these lies and manipulations.
Shivering on the bus a million terrible questions entered my brain.
How could I have been so stupid as to not think Brady’s parents had manipulated the whole thing?
It wasn’t Brady’s fault, but he must have known his parents were donors at the school.
He could have mentioned that to me. The dean must have thought I was some poor kid who couldn’t succeed on his own merits.
I thought back to how seriously I took each question, pausing to think about what would make the most cohesive answer, when I could have babbled about The Bears and gotten the same result.
The weather turned worse once I was off the bus.
Snow started to fall from the drab spring sky and after a few blocks the ground had a white layer with grey slushy edges on the curbs.
Wind chilled the air. I should have been frozen, but I was too angry to be cold.
I thought what Brady and I had was real.
I wouldn’t have gone to the interview if I had known it was fake.
I thought he understood me better than this.
I thought Brady saw me as an equal, a partner in the world.
The doorman swung open the door to the hotel for me and I couldn’t even smile back.
I was too humiliated by everything that had happened.
All I could think about was how I’d never feel like I could belong in this fancy hotel lobby.
I’d always feel like I wasn’t enough for any of it.
I didn’t belong in this world of power and affluence.
I didn’t belong in the lobby of this hotel, or at the fancy medical school, or even with Brady at all.