Eighteen With A Chalkboard

Chapter 3: The Speech that shattered Dad's expectations

The root of my father's animosity towards me traces back to a single moment: the speech that shattered his expectations.

It happened at a grand celebration for my father's prestigious business award. I was expected to give a speech, but when the moment came, my social phobia got the best of me. I froze, unable to utter a single word, leaving the room in awkward silence. In that instant, I knew I had failed my father in the worst possible way.

Ramos valued social status and appearances above all else, so my inability to perform in front of the high-profiled guests was a blow to his pride. He couldn't have been proud of me, not when I couldn't even deliver a simple speech.

From that moment on, my social phobia became a source of shame and frustration for my father—a constant reminder of my perceived weakness. Each time he called me a wimp, it was a painful echo of that fateful night, a reminder of the disappointment I had caused him.

I stand by the towering window, hands buried deep in the pockets of my tailored trousers, gazing out at the sprawling estate that stretches before me.

I turn away from the window as the front door creaks open, revealing the familiar figure of my grandmother. Her entrance is accompanied by her usual no-nonsense attitude.

"Where's Ramos? I'd like to put some sense into his head," she declares, her gaze sweeping across the crowded living room.

Around the wooden table, my family members pause their activities to acknowledge her arrival. Grandpa sits with his nose buried in the newspaper, the daily crossword puzzle already half-completed. Aunt Kathleen, perched on the edge of her seat, chews her gum with gusto, her cheeks working tirelessly. Uncle George, lost in the digital world of his phone, offers only a fleeting glance in Grandma's direction before returning to his screen.

Angelina shares a tender moment with her husband, Anton Campbell, and their daughter, my adorable little niece, who giggles in delight at a toy in her hands. Their laughter fills the room, momentarily drowning out Grandma's voice.

"We have a mathematician in the family, and he's never proud of that. Anyone would wish for a smart grandson like Nathan," Grandma continues, taking her place beside Grandpa and Uncle George.

Grandpa peeks over the rim of his spectacles, giving Grandma a knowing look. She shrugs, unapologetic. "Why are you looking at me like that? You know we wanted Ramos or George to excel in school. At least, Kathleen tried. I thank God every day for giving me a grandson like Nathan."

Grandpa returns to his newspaper, his expression unreadable. "I didn't say anything, Jane, did I?" he mutters, his attention back on the printed words before him.

Reflecting on my family history, it's clear that intelligence runs deep on my mother's side. From my great great grandfather, a scientist, to my great grandfather, a Mathematician, the lineage of brilliance is evident. And my mom? She was no exception, consistently acing her classes and setting high academic standards.

"We are so proud of you, Nathan," Anton says, bringing me back to the present. "Taking this step just proved to your father that you're a man. I bet he was furious for being proven wrong."

"I couldn't agree more with the Caribbean," Uncle George chimes in, his eyes glued to his phone screen. He never bothers with names. "You've given yo' pops a run for his money, Nathan. He's probably steamin' like a kettle right now." He finally looks up, fixing me with a dead-serious stare. "And if ya really wanna throw him off, get yo'self a shawty, or better yet, a wifey. That'll make his blood boil for sure."

Uncle George's words hang in the air like a bizarre suggestion from another planet. Everyone in the room seems to freeze, exchanging puzzled looks, myself included. A girlfriend? Seriously? In the middle of all this?