Over 4 years wasted for a degree and Ophelia can honestly say it wasn't worth the hype. Another rejection letter rests on the glowing screen of her running on fumes ACER laptop from 2016. Every day Ophelia applies to a tech company and every day she receives a new emailed rejection letter in answer. She applies to an upstart that is 'urgently' hiring and within the same hour of applying is rejected. Internships? No, Ophelia apparently isn't good enough and has been told by recruiters to 'stop applying' for the paid ones. Ophelia lays on her side on the lumpy hole ridden couch that she and her roommate/best friend, Erica, bought last year from Goodwill.

Her LinkedIn profile is fleshed out with all her achievements in school, her 4.2 GPA, and her bachelor's in Computer Science and Engineering from Vanderbilt University. One of the top prestigious private universities in the southern United States that she worked her butt off to keep her place year after year. Her four years there were paid by scholarships and grants from the state and the numerous essays she spent hours writing in her dingy dorm room. The rejection letters started before Ophelia even got the chance to walk across the stage. Companies hungry and eager for recent graduates were posting job offers in January, with the starting month being May. It's now late August so Ophelia has basically given up on her working for Google pipedream. 62 rejection emails later and her optimistic outlook for finding a job this year is about to be crushed.

Not even Nashville's shoddiest insurance company wanted her. Her application for a filer was a joke between Ophelia and Erica. The two laughed that if they didn't take her, then no one would. The sharp heat of embarrassment that licked up her spine when the owner personally called her to say that Ophelia's qualifications were too much, and her talents would be useful elsewhere is still a sore spot.

She shifts on the couch, her foot sliding off to nudge the screen of her laptop. The same blaring words that all the emails have in common, "we are sorry to inform you" and "due to increasing" Ophelia groans sliding the rest of the way off. She joins her old as mold laptop on the smelly carpet that has cat pee stains from Erica's demon child, Sir Whiskers. Said cat is sunbathing on the windowsill, not a care in the world. Ophelia wishes she could be a cat. If only to be fed three times a day and sleep. She stands from the floor, her bones popping uncomfortably loudly in the quiet of the apartment. At 24 Ophelia feels like she's 34, bedraggled and tired of everything. The laptop buzzes as its fans kick into overdrive the low battery warning notification in the corner of the screen blinks insistently up at her. She grabs the nearby charger and rushes to get it plugged in before the computer goes off. If her laptop battery percentage goes below 30% it will automatically go off. Stops working and won't turn back on until it's been on the charger for 8 hours. It made her save her coursework as she worked, too many almost finished assignments disappeared, so Ophelia remains cautious.

She moves toward the kitchen. It's nearing 6:30 and Erica will be off work soon. Since Ophelia has no job and her savings account is running on empty, she has turned into a glorified housemaid. After graduating she lost her job at the university bookstore in June after summer classes had begun and she was no longer labeled as a student. Fortunately for the two young women, Erica had landed the one and only place she applied to. Erica had the highest scores in the nursing program at Vanderbilt and is now working at one of the best hospitals in the city. Her paychecks are the only thing keeping their rent paid and food on the table. It's only right for Ophelia to pay her back in the only way she can. By playing housewife, which she hates doing even though Erica says it's okay.

Steak and potatoes are on the menu tonight. She sets to work preparing the potatoes, peeling and soaking them in ice-cold water. The steaks had marinated overnight and should be nice and seasoned before going inside the oven. Sir Whiskers appears at her ankles, rubbing against her leg. He yowls and jumps up onto the counter. "Alright your Highness," Ophelia goes to the pantry for his canned food. She grabs a chicken n' gravy blend and a saucer. She plates it and sets it near him since Sir Whiskers refuses to eat on the floor. "Your dinner sir." She bows and laughs when the cat dives into his food. The beep of the oven signaling its pre-heating is finished causes Ophelia to jump. She wraps the steaks in foil and places them on the bottom rack. Then the potatoes follow olive oil and spices mixed in and placed on the top rack.

A cheerful chime sounds from the living room. Her phone is in her sweatpants pocket and Ophelia has learned to associate this specific sound with dread. It's the notification sound of a new email. Feet dragging like she's moving through mud, Ophelia approaches her laptop like it may bite her. There's a new email, this one from a coding site. "Please oh please say yes." Ophelia chews her lip, brows scrunched in fear. She taps the keypad and hovers the cursor over the notification. "Here goes nothing." The email winks into life. "Hello Ophelia, thank you for applying but unfortunately we are not hiring..." A tired laugh bubbles up, and she scoffs. "Not hiring? Not hiring!" Ophelia pulls up the website and sees the same application she applied to last week. Full-Time beginner Coder starting at $14.50 an hour, work from home positions available. "Unbelievable. They seriously...wow just wow." She places the laptop back on the couch. "You guys are missing out." Sir Whiskers meows, suddenly appearing next to her on the couch. He rests on the back of it, over her shoulder. "Thank you for agreeing with me Sir Whiskers." He licks his lips, furry face wet with gravy sauce.

Another hour and dinner is almost ready. Keys jingle outside the front door and then Erica is calling her hellos. Sir Whiskers leaps off the couch and zooms down the hallway to the front door. Erica greets him, her voice filled with delight. She comes around the corner, blue scrubs and neon orange Crocs with a wide smile. "Hey!" Erica settles onto the couch, toeing off her Crocs and tucking them under herself. Ophelia smiles at her best friend. "How was work? Still like working 12-hour shifts?"

Erica's smile wanes. "Night shift didn't complete their charts last night so that was annoying. They moved me from Ortho to the ER," She shudders, stuck in a memory. "There was a mass pile up on the interstate." Both women wince, Ophelia in sympathy and Erica because of the horrible flashbacks. "I'm sorry, but you're really brave doing this." Ophelia offers a smile in comfort, hand reaching across the couch to rub soothing circles on Erica's arms. Once her friend flashes her a smile, Ophelia stands and stretches. "Dinner is almost ready, go wash up." Erica kicks out her feet, tiredly groaning. "Ugh, come on Fia! Can't I eat first?" Ophelia grabs the pillow underneath her friend's head and hits her with it. "You have hospital germs on you, you're not going anywhere near that kitchen." Reluctantly Erica crawls up from the couch and makes her way to their shared bathroom. Sir Whiskers follows his owner, which leaves Ophelia alone again.

She goes into the kitchen to check the food, she pours Erica her favorite overly priced Moscato that Ophelia goes to Trader Joe's for. Plates and cutlery are set on the kitchen island while Ophelia waits for her friend to finish her shower. Ophelia startles when her pants pocket starts vibrating. She grabs it, staring at the called ID. Aunt Azalea is on the bright screen. Answering the call, Ophelia has a smile in her voice. "Hi, Aunt Lea." An overly loud, squealing woman's voice about ruptures her left eardrum. "FiFi! My sweet, favorite niece." Ophelia scowls, "I'm your only niece." They laugh at the inside joke. Ophelia's mother is 10 years older than her younger sister, Azalea. So when baby Ophelia was brought into this world when her mother was 27 years old, her Aunt Azalea was in her teen angst era. This made Ophelia be babysat by her Aunt Lea often and thus, their very close relationship. "Did you need something?" Ophelia checks to make sure the stove is turned off. "We just had our weekly phone call a few nights ago, so I know nothing crazy has happened."

"Oh FiFi, I was just wondering how the job hunt is going?" The conspiring tone doesn't go unnoticed by Ophelia whose eyebrows pinch together.

"Good. Why?" She pours herself a glass of wine. "Have you landed anything yet?" She gulps down a mouthful. "It's a work in progress." Azalea laughs like Ophelia struggling to find a job is the most hilarious joke she's heard all year. "That bad, huh?" Ophelia deflates instantly. She could never lie to her Aunt. "It's absolutely terrible. I legitimately think I'm the problem." Her warm booming laugh fills the speakers and Ophelia relaxes. "You're not the problem babe, they just suck," Azalea says while clearing her throat of leftover giggles. "But hey, I might have a job for you." When there's still silence the older woman continues speaking to her niece. "A position just opened up at my job, great starting pay and benefits." Nearby, the shower turns off. Sir Whiskers races into the living room, fur moist from the shower steam. "Your job...at the school?" Her wine glass is filled again. "If by 'school' you mean Highland Academy? Then yes, that school." Her Aunt huffs a breath through the phone. "A spot as a teacher's aid just opened and I know my brilliant and loving niece who is in dire need of a job would love to work here." Azalea's voice goes high at the end as she rushes to get it all out when Ophelia's sigh can be heard back through the phone. "I don't like children."

"You'll be with teenagers."

"I don't have a teaching license."

"You don't need one."

"It's in the middle of nowhere."

"You get free housing. Face it FiFi, you need this job and I'm serving it to you on a silver platter." Her tone is smug like she knows Ophelia has no more arguments to make.

"I can't just drop Erica so suddenly, that would be breaking our lease." She smiles, her Aunt can't possibly beat that.

"I spoke to Erica and she said it's fine." Azalea can hear the shocked gasp. "But hey, if you don't want to make $25 an hour working Monday through Thursday then by all means, stay in Nashville."

"$25 dollars?" She blinks, setting the wineglass down.

"And a 4-day work week babe."

"I don't work weekends?" Ophelia can feel her heart racing in excitement. "Only to chaperone occasionally." She sucks in a breath. "I can chaperone for $25."

"So, is that a yes?" Hopefulness blooms. "Yes! I mean y-yeah that sounds like a good offer." She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Can you send me the paperwork so I can think about it?"

"You don't have to think about it." Erica stands behind her at the kitchen island. "Lea and I talked, and we think it will be a great opportunity for you."

"What about you? What about the rent?" Ophelia stares at her best friend conflicted.

Erica shrugs. "I make enough money to rent this place myself and I can always get another roommate." She stands and goes around the island to set a hand on top of Ophelia's. "Do it, Fia. This is what you need."

A new bout of excitement and determination rushes through her like a tidal wave. "Alright Aunt Lea, I'll do it!"

Erica and her Aunt cheer. "That's my girl! Okay, you need to be up here before Sunday so we can get the paperwork sorted and move you into your new apartment."

"It's Wednesday! How do you expect me to pack and move everything in practically 3 days?" Ophelia stares at Erica incredulously. "I'll leave that to you. See you before Sunday, love you FiFi!" The line goes dead.

"I think we need more wine." Erica empties the bottle into her oversized wineglass, taking a much needed sip. Phone still clutched in her hand; Ophelia takes a seat on a barstool. "I agree."