Time passed. I remained self-absorbed and unaware, partying and studying. And all the while, my brother was disintegrating. I tell myself I tried. I tell myself it's not my fault.

He frustrated and embarrassed me. Countless times. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. His behavior became increasingly erratic and irresponsible.

Nathan told me Jude would pick himself up once he hit rock bottom. I didn't know what else to do at that point. He refused to work, convinced that if he sat on the sidewalk and begged for change long enough, the government would give him SSI because of his back.

I think he was carrying so much emotional weight he couldn't carry anything else. He needed to be carried, but San Francisco was too expensive for me to carry us both. So I told him to get his shit together, and I focused on myself and my boyfriends.

I was finishing my Associate's Degree at CCSF, and it was time to apply to universities. I had good grades and a pretty interesting story, but most schools rejected me. I would eventually receive an acceptance letter from UC Davis.

But before that happened, Tandy got pregnant.

I was less than thrilled.

Jude, Tandy, and I were in the living room. Oliver was at work. The sun was shining through the window, and Loki was dragging his favorite toy across the floor to hide in his secret space.

I thought it was selfish and irresponsible to bring a child into the world under those conditions, and, to be candid, I suggested abortion. Tandy wouldn't abort. The concept was morally repugnant to her. Her choice.

I suggested adoption, but Tandy was determined. Tandy decided a baby would fix her and make her a better person. She romanticized a happy life, and for a time, intermittently, she had it.

It was unfair to you to put that much responsibility on a baby. I wish I could have told you years ago; that none of this is your fault, and you deserved better, and it's okay to be mad. I'm still mad.

As fate would have it, your father's father called for the first time since Morgan died. John. My father. He was overjoyed to hear the news, inviting Jude and Tandy out to Oklahoma. They'd have a home of their own, he said.

Jude and Tandy took a Greyhound bus to Oklahoma the very next day. I saw them off and wished them luck. By that time, I'd set aside any misgivings toward Tandy. She was family now. I even grew to admire her a little.

You were born in Oklahoma. Tandy's parents drove down to meet you. They demanded Tandy give them custody of you immediately. Tandy told them to get bent. They told her she was disowned and disinherited.

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I came to visit that Christmas. You were so tiny, with a tuft of red hair. And such a happy baby. You never cried.

It had been some fifteen years since I'd been in Oklahoma. I hadn't seen my dad since Morgan's funeral. She was always his favorite. John checked out after she died.

He had found himself a replacement family, a wife, a daughter, and a son. I liked them all right away. Much more than I like my father. I don't dislike him. I kind of 'nothing' him, you know?

Like, I used to hate him for abandoning us, for forgetting me. But as an adult, knowing him is different. I understand him better, having met his family. I don't hate him because he's a decent husband and father. Besides, he's too pitiable to hate.

That's when I learned where I came from. My father's story. His mother's story. My Gramma Joy. One night we were outside looking at stars, and Gramma Joy told me her father was one of those Native American babies the government kidnapped and gave to white families. Her daddy was a Chocktaw, Chickasaw, Cherokee, Potawatomi, Southern Baptist Minister. Can you imagine? What a trip.

Anyway, my Gramma Joy was born into this surreal and unfair world and was raped at a very young age. She thinks she initiated the act, but I don't believe 8-year-olds have the agency to make those kinds of decisions.

You're probably appalled, and rightly so, but similar stories are all too common among Indigenous girls and women. It's an extension of the war the United States has waged against Native Americans since Plymouth Rock. The genocide continues today, every day.

Indigenous people aren't viewed as people by the wider/Whiter society. In the eyes of a White man, Native Americans are all gone. They're more comfortably regarded as cartoon mascots.

Or wood elf flower children that inexplicably fall in love with White men.

Or they're "Mexicans."

Or they're myths posers tell people to sound deep or morally superior.

"The Native Americans used to believe blah-blah-blah about blah-blah."

Oh? What tribe? "Used to." Did they stop believing it, or were they wiped out? And if the latter, how do you claim to know their myths?

Anyway, Joy was 12 when she got pregnant with my father, which, as you can imagine, was super embarrassing for the Southern Baptist Minister. Abortion was unthinkable, so Joy was given an ultimatum: she could get married immediately, so the baby wouldn't be born a bastard, or she could go away for 9 months and come home with a brand new baby brother.

Joy opted for marriage. Not surprisingly, any man who would marry a 12-year-old is a creep. He abused Joy and their children together for 8 years before Joy abandoned her family and drove to California.

But before she left, she told young John that the man he thought was his father wasn't his father.

When he asked who his real father was, Joy said, "Get a pen and paper. I'll give you a list of a hundred names. Take your pick."

Then she abandoned him for California.

As soon as John was old enough, he joined the Air Force, traveled the world, got stationed in California, and met Patsy.

She was 30. He was 22. Their marriage lasted 8 years.

When Patsy divorced John, she got full custody because he could never pay child support. Instead, he visited when it suited him, until Morgan died, and then it didn't suit him anymore.

I used to wonder how John could be such a devoted husband and father to someone else. Then I met his family, and I realized his new wife was a nice person. Controlling, yes, like my mother, like Tandy, but John's new wife was fair, hardworking, and considerate. That's why he left us. Because Patsy was none of those things. So I couldn't resent John for abandoning us. In a way, I did the same thing to Jude.