Isa's POV

"Who is Isa Adams?" If I had a dime for every time I asked myself that question, I would most likely be a billionaire. The fact is that I barely knew who I was. I didn't even know my mother.

It's always been just me and Dad. He told me my mother died while giving birth to me, which made me feel terrible, but that wasn't the worst part. I don't even have a picture of my mother; all I know about her appearance is that Dad believes I'm a duplicate of her. He stated that following her death, he just took me and left for a new start since he was so devastated. What I knew about my mother was that she was named Ginny and resembled me. All attempts to talk about her and discover more failed since Dad immediately shut it off.

Dwayne Adams is my father. His height and wide shoulders gave him a dominating presence. His hazel eyes complement his chocolate-dark complexion. He wasn't very handsome, but he had that "je ne sais quoi" kind of attractiveness. I wouldn't say he's a bad father; he's just not emotionally present. He does his best to meet all of my needs, even working 12-hour hours at "Blue Ridge Manufacturers" Company. He had worked his way up to Production Manager over the years, so even though we weren't wealthy, I never lacked anything.

So, back to my question: "Who is Isa?" Physically, my complexion had a caramel tone to it, I was quite slender, and even though I was a little curvy, I had always felt insecure. My height was another source of concern for me; at 5 feet and 10 inches, I always felt like I stood out like a sore thumb. I suppose my hair was my favourite feature of me; it wasn't very long, but I adored it. It was usually in braids because I was too lazy to keep it up, but I adored everything about it, from the tightest coil to the volume. I used to be insecure about my full lips, but now I realize their beauty. My dark eyes and snub nose comprised the remainder of my face. They were in wonderful harmony, and I could thank my mother for this face card.

I am not a social butterfly; I have always been a loner, so I don't have many friends. I've always been fascinated with biology, ever since I read a book about it when I was seven years old. Reading is my escape; whether it's fiction or nonfiction, I'm constantly lost in a book. That was pretty much all about myself, but I don't think I have an answer to my question. I can't wait to be able to accept my identity because I often felt fake.

The sound of the kitchen back door sliding shut jolted me out of my deep thoughts. Dad was home. I went to the kitchen to help with the groceries; he always came back with them on Friday.

"Any news from UNC?" my father said as he lay on the couch, snacking on a chocolate bar.

"Nothing yet"

"Don't worry kiddo, soon enough"

To be honest, I did not want to hear back from the University of North Carolina. Charlotte, North Carolina is where I've resided for the past 18 years. There was no way I was attending college here. That is why I also applied to the University of California in Berkeley. Not only was it around 2,600 miles away from home, but it also had one of the best Biology programs. I know what you're thinking; is my father aware? Of course not, but I plan to inform him; I just haven't had the time.

Dad had fallen asleep while watching football, so I began preparing dinner. I also love to cook as an escape. I had convinced Dad to buy so many cookbooks, and I spent my leisure time testing out the recipes. Tonight's meal was fried chicken, macaroni, and cheese, which was Dad's favorite. After dinner, I returned to my room and began watching college lifestyle videos on YouTube. I was honestly delighted since it seemed like a new beginning for me. My father and his friends will no longer be monitoring my every step. Tomorrow I'll go shopping with Miss Odessa, our neighbor who clearly had feelings for Dad, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. I adored Miss Odessa; she had the sweetest daughter. Dina was a hyperactive 10-year-old who was constantly yapping about something. I used to babysit Dee whenever her mother had a late appointment at her beauty salon. Miss Odessa said I needed to start dressing my age, whatever that means, so we're heading to the mall to buy clothes for "my age".

I awoke to the doorbell and checked my bedside clock; it was noon Gosh, I overslept, but that's what happens when you watch TikTok all night. Miss Odessa was all smiles when I answered the door. Her hair was done into an afro with a flower hair band, and she wore a beautiful blue sundress that made her appear like a princess. I used to tease her about seeming a decade younger than she is, and she would always laugh and say, "What if she was?"

"Isa, the sleepyhead!" She chuckled.

"Your dad's gone to work"

"Yes, he did. Sorry, I overslept; I'll go get ready right away."

We'd been strolling around the mall for over two hours, trying on multiple clothes, and my social battery had depleted. At every checkout, I had to struggle with Odessa to pay for my clothes. Dad had given me his card to pay for them, but Odessa wouldn't have it, so she ended up paying for everything. She dropped me back at home and waved farewell.

"Isa, you need to tell your dad about UC Berkeley"

Yes, I told Odessa about it.

"I won't worry about it," I responded, closing the door.

I'd tell my father, but he was rarely around, and I was worried about how he'd react.

Later that evening, Dad entered the home grinning and clutching the mail.

"Isa, it's UNC"

"Come on, open it"

My heart dropped into my gut as I opened the letter. The words "You've been accepted" stared back at me. Dad became ecstatic and lifted me into the air. I grabbed the mail and began flicking through it.

"What is wrong, Isa? "Why are you not happy?"

"I am happy dad, I think I'm just shocked"

I spotted the UC letter and buried it in my sweater.

"We need to celebrate; I'll call the boys over. My little one is heading to college.

He took my hand and whirled me around. The letter dropped off my sweater.

"What's this?"

My heart raced. I prepared myself, knowing he wouldn't take it well.

"University of Carlifonia? when did you apply to this?"

"Dad please, I can explain"

"I don't even care, you're not going" With that, he began shredding the envelope.

I attempted to fend it off, but he was simply too strong.

I yelled "I hate you" as I dashed into my room.

I wept myself to sleep. I needed to get as far away from North Carolina as possible.

Dad had already left by the time I awoke the next morning, which was typical. The pieces of my dreams remained on the floor. I did my best to put it together, but it was nearly impossible. I chose to call the school.

"Hello, please I want to confirm my application status"

"You didn't receive the letter?" A clear feminine voice responded.

"I did but there was a little mishap"

"Ok then, give me your full name and your date of birth"

"Isa Adams, August 15th"

"Ok, please hold"

I probably waited about five minutes, but it seemed like forever.

"Congratulations, Miss Adams. You have been accepted. We cannot wait to begin this adventure with you."

"Thank you"

I jumped with happiness. Life looked to be going nicely at last. But then the heavy shadow of my father's refusal descended upon me. What was I going to do?

"Miss Odessa, what should I do?"

"Oh honey, I think you should give him time, he'll come around"

I was at Odessa's beauty shop, Enchanted Elegance. I simply wanted to leave the house, and as embarrassing as it was, Odessa was likely my only friend.

"Would you want me to talk to him?"

"I don't know when that would work"

"Don't worry at the close of work today I'll talk to him"

I was watching a movie when Dad walked in.

"Why UC?"

"I don't know dad, I just want something different"

"It's a harsh world out there Isa"

"I know Dad but i'm not a child anymore"

He buried his head in his hands. I couldn't predict what he was thinking since he was a man with little emotion.

"Well if that's what you want Isa, then it's ok with me"

I didn't realize when I hugged him.

"Thank you so much dad, I promise I won't let you down"

"I know you won't, Isa," he said as he pecked my forehead.

I rarely had these times with my father, but I treasured them.