Chapter 29

Brad arrived a few minutes early to one of Portland’s many brew pubs and found a fairly isolated table. He thought about having a beer but decided that, as much as he would probably need one after this, soda would be the better option. Last Saturday had been an abject disaster and he wasn’t optimistic about today. His father had been extremely disappointed at his failure and had buried him in punishment projects at work this past week. He had no idea how to handle that situation. In fact, he felt completely out of his depth in every facet of his life.

Brad didn’t feel any better when he saw Tasha walk in with two envelopes in her hand. Legal-sized envelopes. He had spent enough years in the banking world to know that almost anything in a legal-sized envelope was serious. The fact that it was Tasha and not Megan holding them meant nothing good for him, he was sure. She frowned when she saw him and stalked over.

“Hi, Tasha,” he said, forcing himself to be as pleasant as possible.

“Brad,” she said, taking a seat and tossing the envelopes on the table.

“Where’s Megan?”

“She’s taking Sophia to roller derby. She also knows that she’s fallen for your bullshit way too many times. So now you get me instead.”

“Uh huh. What’s in the envelopes?”

“We’re not talking about that right now, Brad,” Tasha said his name with immense distaste.

Brad stayed silent, assuming that speaking was probably not going to do him any good. “You came into my home… into our home… and said some damn stupid things, Brad.” He wisely kept his mouth shut.

“You and I, we never liked each other much. Not at first, and not now. But one thing that I never thought was that you were stupid. An over-privileged White boy riding Daddy’s coattails for sure, but not stupid. Holy shit, though. You got deep in the stupid, didn’t you?”

“I could have handled that better.”

“No shit!” Tasha snorted. “I gotta ask. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.”

“And we’re back to stupid again. Of course you knew. I know you didn’t drive all that way, thinking that you’d show up and Megan would just go home with you.”

Brad really couldn’t think of a good response.

“Oh, shit. That actually was your plan! Wasn’t it? Again, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, Tasha. I wasn’t. I showed up at Thanksgiving without Megan and Sophia and my dad read me the riot act. He told me that I was weak and that I needed to be a man. He said that Megan needed a strong man to tell her what to do. He said that if I didn’t go get her then everyone would know what a pussy I am. He said, ‘You’re a pussy, Brad, and everyone knows what happens to pussies.’ So, I tried to do what Dad would do.”

“Your dad is an asshole, Brad. I mean, you should never, ever take his advice. Especially about women. Megan’s not some pushover that you can just order around. You didn’t do that shit while you were married, did you?” Tasha’s voice was rising.

“No! I mean, we argued and stuff, but it wasn’t like that. I guess I was just so desperate and humiliated that I did something stupid.”

“That there is a start, Brad. What was that other bullshit?”

“Um. I?—”

“Come on. I know that you weren’t that ignorant back in college, so you musta learned it somewhere along the way.”

“I got on some message boards in the past few years. Lots of guys talking about how we don’t learn real history in school.”

“Lemme guess, these assholes knew the ’real history.’” Tasha’s air quotes at the end were practically dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, I, um, maybe should have been more discerning.”

“Oh… Ya think?!? Tell you what. We don’t learn the real history in school, because the real history is awful and a whole bunch of White folk don’t want their kids learning how evil their great-granddaddy was.” Tasha’s native South Carolinian accent was starting to show.

Brad nodded and kept his mouth shut.

“I could do this all day, but I’d rather not.” Tasha tapped the two envelopes. “Let’s talk about why you’re here and why I’m here, because I’d rather be anywhere else. Megan’s divorcing you, Brad.” She spread the two envelopes apart. “What happens now depends on you and me. Megan, bless her wonderful heart, wants you to be part of Sophia’s life. She wants Sophia to have a good father. Someone that she can love and trust as she grows up. Personally, I think that you’re a pile of shit and that you’ll always be a pile of shit. That’s why there are two envelopes. See, Megan doesn’t trust you, and we all know why, but you’ve fooled her before. You’ve never fooled me, Brad.”

“So, I have to convince you that I’m not a pile of shit. If I do that, then I get the good envelope. If I don’t, then I get the bad envelope.”

“I mean, you’re never going to convince me that you aren’t a pile of shit who cheated on my best friend at least twice, but maybe you can convince me that you can change.”

“I’m not sure how I can do that. You already hate me. With reason.”

“You’re right. Megan gave me a bunch of questions to ask, and I’ll use a bit of that, but really, we’re doing things my way. I have a list. Think of it like the labors of Hercules, except not nearly as heroic. Now, which envelope would you like?”

Brad wasn’t feeling optimistic. This hadn’t gone well, but it could have been much worse. He worried that “worse” was coming real soon.

“I’d definitely prefer the good one.”

“Good choice. First, I’m gonna give you a couple of books to read. You’re going to read them and then send me a book report, and that better be an A+++ book report. I’m gonna write them on the good envelope. Lemme make sure that I get this 100% correct for you.” She whipped out her phone. “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, by Isabel Wilkerson and The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism by Edward Baptist. I am putting my email address on there, too. I expect your first book report in my inbox next weekend.”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“That wasn’t on Megan’s list, but I’m here and you pissed me off, so it’s on the list now. I’m glad to hear that you’ll do that. Next item. Based on Megan’s questions, you aren’t vaccinated for COVID. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell, Brad. Really. Get the damn shot.”

“I’ve done all this research?—”

“Brad, you ain’t done shit. You went on Google and typed in words. Actual research involves highly educated and trained scientists running tightly monitored experiments with control groups, and then other groups of highly educated and trained scientists successfully replicating the work of the first group. Did you do any of that, Brad?”

“No.”

“Did you just type some shit into Google?”

“Yes. But those scientists are all getting paid by big pharmaceutical companies.”

“Not the government ones, Brad, and so help me, if you say one thing about the Deep State or a globalist cabal, you will absolutely get the bad envelope right now.”

Brad wisely kept his mouth shut.

“And of course the drug companies are making shitloads of money off this. Jesus, Brad, you’re a banker. Your entire job is to suck on the teats of capitalism. This is America. Nothing gets done to benefit regular folk if billionaires can’t find a way to make money off of it.”

Brad actually agreed with that last point, even if it sounded vaguely progressive.

“Here’s what you’re going to do.” Tasha gave him a hard look. “You’re going to get the shots, and I want proof. If you send me a fake vax card, then you will get the bad envelope.”

“I’ll do it, I swear.”

I might have to come back to Portland to get vaccinated. I don’t need my neighbors knowing that I got “the jab.” That’s as bad as wearing a mask back home.

“Next, you’re gonna stop banging homewrecking skanks.”

“I can do that.”

“I mean it, Brad. What if that had been Sophia walking in on you banging what’s her name?”

“Margar—”

“I don’t need her name, Brad.”

“I’m done with her, I swear.”

“It’s not just her, Brad. It’s you. You’re also a homewrecking skank. Maybe you find someone, maybe you don’t. I honestly don’t care. You need to promise me that when you go out with someone, the top priority in your mind is, ‘would Sophia be proud of my choices.’”

Brad realized that a lot hinged on this moment. He looked Tasha squarely in the eyes and said, “I will do my absolute best to be the father that Sophia can be proud of and to make good choices in whoever I date. And if I realize that I made a mistake or find out something that would not make Sophia proud of me, then I will own up to my failures and learn from them.”

“Wow, Brad. That was very nicely done. I almost believe you. Next, you need to find a new church. There’s plenty of options available in Christianity. Find one that doesn’t hate gay people, because if they hate one group, chances are that they’ll get around to hating more.”

I don’t think that there are any other options where I live. I’ll figure something out. Heck, I can just stay home and read the Bible.

“Uh, I can do that.”

They went on from there, but Brad felt that the skanks question was the tipping point.

A few minutes later, Tasha said, “I can’t believe that I’m doing this, but here’s the good envelope. Now, don’t think that you’re in the clear yet. If you screw this up, I’m very happy to give you the bad envelope.”

“Thank you, Tasha.” He opened the envelope and skimmed through the divorce papers.

The offer seemed surprisingly generous. “I’ll have to have my lawyer take a look at this, but it seems acceptable.”

“You do that.” Tasha stood up to leave.

“Tasha, wait. Back in school, why didn’t you like me?”

“Honestly?”

“Please.”

“Because I know you, Brad. Because I grew up with dozens of guys just like you. Wealthy family with connections. Over-privileged and arrogant. Convinced that their shit don”t stink and never, ever having to deal with real consequences. My folks sent me to one of the elite Christian schools, never mind that it started out as a segregation academy.”

“What’s that?”

“After Brown and then the Civil Rights Act, White folks couldn’t keep kids like me out of their public schools, so suddenly a whole bunch of private Christian schools opened up. A lot of them were in the South, but they were everywhere. Eventually, they lost their tax exempt status unless they started accepting Black kids. So, I was one of a handful of Black kids in a sea of White kids. We had to be exceptional. Perfect grades and damn good at sports, too. Dante played basketball and I played soccer. All-state, both of us. Meanwhile, Thaddeus Moneybags IV didn’t have to be good at shit. Guys like that could screw around, do drugs, whatever. Well, coke and weed. Heroin was apparently un-Christian. Oh yeah, I got asked for drugs all the time.”

“Really, why?”

“Because I’m Black. They figured that since I’m Black that I must have a dozen dealers on speed dial.”

“Are you sure?”

“Brad, don’t make me give you the bad envelope. Of course I’m sure. I know because at least once a month, some stoner would come up to me and say something like, ‘Hey, my boys and I are going camping this weekend and need some killer bud, can you hook a brother up?’ and then I’d nicely tell them no because if I told them to fuck off like I wanted to then I might get expelled. Then they’d say, ‘We really need those dank buds, can you hook us up with one of your homies?’ So, yeah, it was because I’m Black. They did the same shit to Dante.”

“Wow, I’m sorry.”

“And then you come rolling into Megan’s life. I told her that you were a dipshit, but she didn’t listen. I was right, too. She’s better than you. She’s always been better than you. And she deserves more than you. She deserves everything.”

“Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“You’re in love with her!”

“What? No!”

Brad watched Tasha’s face as her mind spun. He now knew why she had never liked him and suddenly, he realized why he had never liked her. Jealousy. He had always been jealous of Tasha. Well, ain’t that a kick in the nuts.

Tasha stood and grabbed her coat. “I gotta go!” With that, she was running for the door.