Raising Isaiah (No future updates)

Chapter 3

I'd managed to make it down stairs for dinner without getting sick but as soon as I entered the dining room, the smell of catfish wafted up my nose, I nearly barfed all over the floor. A steady throbbing started against my temple again but somehow, I managed to swallow back the wave of nausea and act as if I wasn't ready to upchuck my entire esophagus.

"Amen," Grandma Evelyn sighed as she finished saying grace.

"Amen,' we chorused after her.

My mother and Aunt Yvonne both stood and grabbed the serving spoons.

"Mmm-mmm-mmm, Michelle, baby this smells delicious!" my father, David Redd, praised as he rubbed his hands together comically.

My mother chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Well thank Yvonne, she hooked up the collard greens and cornbread."

Uncle Ethan spoke up. "Yes, thank my woman because she throws down in the kitchen!"

Aunt Yvonne elbowed him. "Is that why you missed dinner last night?"

Uncle Ethan beamed. "The life of a contractor is hard baby. At least I took the leftovers to lunch today."

"Mmm-hmm," my aunt hummed. "All I know is, I'm glad you showed up tonight because tonight is a night of celebration!"

Everyone's eyes simultaneously turned towards me. As nonchalantly as I could, I plastered on a smile.

"Yes, my grandbaby will be carrying on the Redd name at Spelman College next fall." Grandma Evelyn grinned.

"I'm hoping she pledges Delta Sigma Theta." my mother threw a smile my way in which I managed to return just as earnestly.

I swallowed down more bile as she placed a thick piece of catfish on my plate. "Thank you." I murmured.

She nodded before continuing on to my grandmother's plate and then Cassandra's.

"Do you know what you want to major in yet?" my Uncle Ethan asked me.

I nodded. "I'm set on Journalism."

Aunt Yvonne nodded as she took her seat. "Are you still considering broadcast?"

I tipped my hand. "I will definitely dabble in it just to make sure if it's for me or not."

My dad cut into his food before turning to me. "Writing has always been your strong suit. Journalism is a very good way to put it to use."

Though I didn't entirely agree with his statement, I gave a small nod.

Truthfully, I wanted to become a well-known fiction author. Journalism, whether it be newspaper or broadcast, wasn't something I was really excited about but I decided to give it a try. Secretly, I wrote short stories that I one day hoped to get published. I'd tried to communicate these plans to my mother before but she just dismissed it like I was talking about a hobby. Needless to say, I've never shared my stories with anyone in my family aside from Cassandra. She loved them and was always excited when I gave her updates on my characters and their situations. This couldn't be said for the rest of my family. It was clear that being an author wasn't a realistic career in the rest of their books--no pun intended.

"How's the newspaper at Hamilton going?" Aunt Yvonne questioned.

The smell of the catfish was becoming a bit more pronounced and I barely fixed my face in time to answer her. "Umm, it—it's going well. We've recently e—entered into this national competition for school newspapers."

"Do you think that Hamilton's paper is a good contender?" Uncle Ethan asked.

I casually covered my mouth with the back of my hand, closing my eyes against the queasiness. "We'd like to think so."