For a moment, the room was completely silent. I waited for the smile. I waited for my mother to gasp in delight. I waited for my father to stand up and tell me how proud he was that his daughter had achieved something so monumental. Instead, my father casually pushed the folder back across the table with his index finger. It slid across the polished wood and stopped directly in front of me, entirely unopened.
“We cannot take on this kind of financial liability, Clara,” he said smoothly, speaking to me as if I were a junior employee pitching a bad marketing campaign. “Your mother and I have spent the last few weeks reviewing our financial portfolio, and co-signing a loan of this magnitude is simply too much risk for us right now. You are going to have to defer your enrollment for a few years until you can afford it yourself, or you need to find a significantly cheaper career path.”
I stared at him, my brain completely unable to process what he was saying.
“Risk?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Dad, it is not a risk. I am going to be a doctor. I will pay back every single penny of those loans myself the second I finish my residency. I just need your signature to get through the door. If I do not secure this funding by next month, I lose my seat in the program. I lose everything I have worked for over the last four years.”
My mother sighed heavily, swirling her wine glass.
