Chapter 17

Brad witnessed Megan immediately clutching Tasha’s hand when she saw him standing next to the playground. Oh, that’s how it is, he thought to himself. It was definitely time to remove Sophia from this sinful city and the wicked influence of Tasha. She had been a bad influence on Megan back in college, and Brad wasn’t going to stand for this.

“Hello, Megan. Tasha.”

Megan’s face was ashen. “How did you find us?”

“You left your address book at our home and it wasn’t hard to figure out where you would run.” With palpable disdain, he added, “I see that this is where you have been keeping my daughter.”

Tasha snapped, “What are you doing here, Brad?”

“Megan said that we would talk Saturday. Well, it’s Saturday,” Brad replied with a brash tone.

“No, Brad. Why are you stalking Megan at our home?”

Our home. Brad was unsurprised at Tasha’s possessiveness. She had always been jealous of him. Well, he was here to bring his wife and child back home, and that was that. “It’s not stalking. I drove all this way to reclaim what’s mine. Anyway, I thought that this would be a good place to talk. Megan can’t hang up on me in person.” At this, Megan finally began to stir from stunned silence. “Besides, my daughter should be living in a safe and Christian home. Clearly, she is not.”

Sophia was looking back and forth between her parents as Megan finally spoke, “Brad, this is not what I meant about talking today.”

Finally, she speaks. Dad said that I just need to speak firmly to her and show her who is in charge. “Show her that you are the man,” he told me.

Brad replied, “Well, this is what’s best. You’ve had your little tantrum, now it’s time to go home. Pack your things.”

“No.”

“No? I didn’t give you that option!” Brad’s mind went back to Thanksgiving day and his father’s disappointment when he showed up without Megan and Sophia.

“What the hell, Bradley? Did I raise you to be a pussy?” his father had said.

Brad had stepped back in the face of his father’s wrath. “I screwed up, Dad,” he responded.

“How did you screw up?”

“Megan caught me with Margaret. We had a fight and she left.”

Somehow, his father got angrier. “You bet your ass you screwed up! You let her leave instead of telling her what’s what! You’re supposed to be the man. You’re a fucking idiot for getting caught, and you’re a weakling for letting your wife walk all over you!”

Brad stood as tall as possible and assumed a power position to assert his male dominance.

“We’re not going with you, Brad. Sophia and I are going to stay here with Tasha for a while and you can just leave.”

Brad began feeling apprehensive. He was doing what his father said, but that wasn’t working. It was time to try a new tactic. Appeal to her sense of duty and let her maternal instincts fill in the rest. “Really, Megan? You think that this city is a fit environment for a child? How big is your apartment? I’m guessing that it’s small. Smaller now with three people crammed in it. Where are you even sleeping?”

“This is a great environment for Sophia. She’s well taken care of, she likes playing with Tasha’s cat. And we’re managing the sleeping arrangements just fine.”

“Oh, I bet you are.” Brad glared suspiciously at Tasha.

“What are you implying?”

“Single woman with a cat in this god-forsaken city. You’re probably happy to have another woman to share your sinful bed with.”

“Screw you, Brad! Unlike you, Megan doesn’t sleep around.”

“And yet you don’t deny wanting her in your bed!” Brad hadn’t set foot in Portland since before the COVID hoax. After watching the city burn during the so-called Black Lives Matter protests, he knew that it wasn’t a place for good people. He’d done a lot of research back then, not just on the fake vaccines, and learned a lot about this wicked city. The people that he communicated regularly with in the chatrooms told all sorts of stories about the horrors of Portland. No matter what it took, he was going to get his wife and child out of here and never return.

Brad knew that he was winning. Megan was withdrawn, letting Tasha speak in her stead.

One more appeal, this time to the ultimate truth, would win the day.

“Megan, you need to think about what’s best for Sophia! She needs to be raised in a strong Christian home, with good Anglo-Saxon values.”

Tasha snorted loudly. “Anglo-Saxon values? Brad, your last name is Kowalski. Your mother is half Italian. I am more Anglo-Saxon than you!”

“No, you’re not! You’re?—”

“Black? Yeah, and my first ancestor on this continent arrived in South Carolina almost three hundred and fifty years ago… from England. Then he bought another of my ancestors off a boat from Africa. And he raped her. Centuries of slavery, rape, and violence followed. That’s my family history with Anglo-Saxon values!”

“But—”

“Brad, you best think carefully about the next words out of your mouth, because if you are about to spew some state of Florida revisionist bullshit about how slavery was good for Black folks, or how we liked picking cotton and singing fo’ massa’, then I will slap that nonsense right out of your mouth!”

Brad was flailing now. He was used to having conversations with people who agreed with him completely. Facing Tasha’s righteous fury was unnerving. “Having one British ancestor doesn’t mean you’re Anglo-Saxon.”

“Do you see my hair? No Black girl gets hair like this without a shitload of European genetics. Have you ever heard about one-drop laws? They were invented for families like mine. So you can take your Anglo-Saxon values and shove them up your ass, because I know exactly what that bullshit means.”

Brad was stunned into silence. Megan whispered, “Brad, it’s time for you to leave.” As he gathered his wits, all three of them heard the sound of Sophia crying on the swingset. Brad was nearly knocked over as Megan bolted for her child. As he regained his balance, Tasha walked up to him and said in a deadly quiet voice, “You get the fuck out of here and don’t you come back to our neighborhood. Ever!”

Minutes later, Brad sat shaking in the driver’s seat of his truck. He’d screwed up badly. Really badly. He’d done what he thought he was supposed to do—what was right. So why didn’t he win? I’m so fucked. Stanislaus Kowalski did not tolerate failure, and he certainly wouldn’t tolerate weakness in his son. Brad’s world had come crashing down around him, and he had no idea how to fix it.