Chapter 12 - Benedict’s Sister
Benedict did not speak to Ramona for two months.
Then their mother called.
Her name was Joan Whitlock.
Seventy.
Not in original scene.
Still family.
She said:
“You cannot cut your sister off forever.”
Benedict answered:
“I can for two months.”
Good.
Joan cried.
“What she did was awful.”
“Yes.”
“But Dulcie needs family.”
“We are still seeing Dulcie.”
Through Evan.
Then:
“Ramona needs family too.”
Benedict said:
“Needing family is not the same as getting access to Nell.”
That distinction became useful.
Then Joan asked:
“Did we compare the girls too much?”
Benedict went quiet.
“Yes.”
I could hear her crying through speaker.
“I called Nell the pretty one.”
My stomach tightened.
She had.
Not constantly.
Enough.
“What did you call Dulcie?” Benedict asked.
“The talented one.”
There.
Two boxes.
Pretty.
Talented.
Sounds positive.
Still ranking.
Children can hear:
If Nell is pretty, I’m not.
If Dulcie is talented, Nell isn’t.
Joan said:
“I thought I was giving each one something special.”
Benedict sighed.
“I know.”
Then:
“Stop.”
She did.
At the next family visit with Dulcie, Joan did not say:
My beautiful girls.
My talented girl.
She said:
“Want lemonade?”
Ordinary language can be repair.
Then Benedict went to therapy himself.
Why?
Because Ramona’s resentment toward him was older.
Their father’s favoritism.
He had enjoyed it.
Not as child with malicious intent.
As anyone enjoys approval.
As adult, he sometimes teased Ramona:
“Still competitive.”
Dismissive.
Maybe.
He owned.
Again, not responsibility for scissors.
Relationship context.
Then he finally texted Ramona:
I love you. I am furious with you. You will not see Nell until Nell and professionals decide. Do not ask me to change that.
Ramona replied:
I understand.
Then five minutes later:
I miss her.
He did not answer.
May you like
Good.
Her feelings could exist without becoming his assignment.
