EPISODE: 2

• She knew I needed to feel like I was providing for my family with my own two hands. And she was right. I decided not to tell Marcus immediately. My son had just finished his residency at John’s Hopkins and was starting his career as a pediatric surgeon. he was finally independent, making his own way, and I wanted to see how this money might change things, or if it needed to change anything at all.
• Marcus had always been a good kid, respectful, and hardworking. He called every Sunday, visited when he could, and never made me feel like my bluecollar job was something to be ashamed of. But lately, something had been different in his voice during our calls. There was an excitement, a nervous energy that reminded me of how he used to sound before big exams.
• 3 months after I discovered Lorraine’s secret, Marcus drove down from Baltimore with news that explained everything. Dad, I want you to meet someone special,” he said, practically bouncing on my living room sofa like he was 12 years old again.
• “Her name is Victoria Ashworth, and I’m going to ask her to marry me.” The Ashworth name meant nothing to me, but the way Marcus said it, like he was announcing he’d won the lottery, made me pay attention. “Tell me about her, son.” Marcus’s eyes lit up in a way I’d never seen since he got accepted to medical school. She’s incredible, Dad. Smart, beautiful, kind.
• She’s finishing her MBA at Georgetown and her family, well, they’re pretty successful. Her dad owns Ashworth Capital Management. I still didn’t recognize the name, but I could hear the awe in my son’s voice. And you love her? I love her more than anything,” he said. And I could see he meant it.
• “I want to bring her to meet you next weekend if that’s okay. Maybe we can have dinner here like we used to when I was growing up.” I agreed, of course. I wanted to meet the woman who’d captured my son’s heart. But something in Marcus’s demeanor, a nervousness I’d never seen before, made me wonder what he was really worried about.
• Victoria Ashworth was everything Marcus had promised and more. Beautiful in that polished magazine cover way with honey blonde hair and the confident bearing of someone who’d never doubted their place in the world. She was gracious and polite, complimenting my house and asking thoughtful questions about my work at the hospital.
• But there was something else there, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was in the way her eyes quickly scanned my modest living room, taking in the worn furniture and family photos. It was in how she smiled when I served dinner on Lorraine’s good china, plates that seemed elegant to us, but probably looked quaint to someone who’d grown up with real wealth. “Mr.
• Washington, Marcus has told me so much about you,” she said over my attempt at Lorraine’s famous pot roast. It must be incredibly rewarding working in healthcare maintenance. You really keep everything running. Her tone was perfectly pleasant, but something about the way she emphasized maintenance made my jaw tighten.
• Marcus either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it. Dad’s being modest. Marcus jumped in. He’s not just maintenance. He’s the head of facilities management for the entire hospital. They can’t function without him. Victoria smiled sweetly. Of course, essential workers are so important.
• The phrase essential workers hung in the air like a challenge. It wasn’t what she said, it was how she said it, like she was patting a child on the head for trying hard. But Marcus was glowing, and Victoria was polite enough, so I kept my observations to myself. If my son was happy, I could tolerate a little condescension from his future wife.
• It was when they were leaving that I overheard the conversation that really opened my eyes. I was in the kitchen wrapping up leftovers for Marcus to take back to Baltimore when I heard Victoria’s voice drifting from the front porch. Babe, are you sure about having the wedding here in DC? I mean, your father seems lovely, but but what? Marcus voice was sharper than I’d heard him in years. Nothing.

EPISODE: 3

• Nothing. It’s just my parents are used to a certain level of, you know, maybe we could have a small ceremony here and then a bigger reception at the country club. That way, everyone’s comfortable. My father raised me, Marcus said. This is where I’m from. And I love that about you, Marcus. I love your authenticity, your background. It’s refreshing.
• I just want to make sure everyone feels welcome. You know, sometimes people from different worlds can feel out of place. I heard Marcus sigh. Maybe you’re right. We could do something at their parents’ club. My handstilled on the aluminum foil. My son, the boy I’d raised to be proud of where he came from, was already starting to compromise who he was. I said nothing when Marcus came back for the leftovers.
• I hugged him goodbye and told Victoria it was lovely meeting her. But that night, lying in the bed I’d shared with Lorraine for 38 years, I made a decision. I was going to keep that money secret a little longer. I wanted to see how deep this rabbit hole went.
• Over the next few months, as wedding plans began in earnest, I got to know the Ashworth family better, and the more I learned, the less I liked what I saw. Charles Ashworth III was the kind of man who made sure you knew he was important within the first 5 minutes of conversation. He managed investment portfolios for high- netw worth individuals which he mentioned frequently.
• His wife Patricia was what my grandmother would have called society. The type of woman who organized charity galas and spoke about giving back to the community while looking right through the people who served her drinks. They lived in a colonial mansion in PTOAC, Maryland, complete with a circular driveway, manicured gardens, and the kind of old money elegance that whispered wealth instead of shouting it.
• When Marcus brought me to their house for dinner, I felt like I was visiting a museum. Samuel, Charles said, gripping my hand in what was probably supposed to be a firm handshake, but felt more like he was testing my strength. Marcus tells us you work at the hospital.
• Must be satisfying work keeping the lights on again with the condescension wrapped in politeness. It has its rewards, I replied evenly. Patricia was more subtle, but no less clear in her opinions. “We’re so excited about the wedding,” she gushed over cocktails served by a unformed housekeeping staff. “Victoria has such diverse taste in people. It’s one of her most admirable qualities.
• ” Diverse taste in people. like Marcus was some kind of exotic accessory she’d picked up at a boutique. Throughout the evening, I watched my son transform before my eyes. The Marcus I knew, confident, straightforward, proud of his accomplishments, became differential, almost apologetic. When Charles asked about his residency, Marcus downplayed his achievements.
• When Patricia mentioned the wedding budget, Marcus quickly offered to contribute more than I knew he could afford. “Don’t be silly, darling,” Patricia laughed, touching Marcus’s arm like he was a sweet but confused child. “Charles and I are happy to handle the wedding expenses. We understand the financial differences between our families.
• ” The way she said financial differences made it sound like we were refugees they’d graciously decided to sponsor. But the conversation about the wedding guest list that really got to me. Now Samuel, Patricia said, consulting a leatherbound planner will need a list of your family and friends for the invitations. The venue can accommodate about 300 guests.
• 300 guests. Lorraine and I had gotten married in our church basement with maybe 60 people, and we’d thought that was a crowd. I don’t need many invitations. Most of my family is gone, and I’ve got maybe 20 friends I’d want to invite. Patricia’s smile became even more strained. Of course, we understand. Sometimes smaller families are cozier. Charles cleared his throat.
• We should probably discuss the seating arrangements, too. We’ll have some important business associates attending, senators, judges, CEOs. We want to make sure everyone’s comfortable. The unspoken message was clear. My 20 friends from the hospital in the neighborhood weren’t going to be seated with the senators and CEOs.
• Marcus said nothing. He just nodded along like this was all perfectly reasonable. That night, driving home to my empty house, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in years. Shame. Not shame about who I was or what I’d accomplished, but shame that my son was letting these people make him shamed of where he came from.