Chapter 18 - Ramona and Benedict
A year passed before Benedict met Ramona alone.
Public café.
No kids.
He told me afterward.
Ramona began:
“I was angry at you.”
“Why?”
“Dad.”
There.
“He loved you more.”
Benedict said:
“I think he treated me better.”
No denial.
Ramona cried.
“I kept waiting for somebody to admit it.”
“I’m admitting.”
“That doesn't fix.”
“No.”
Then:
“When Nell was born, everyone said she looked like him.”
Leonard.
“I know.”
“It felt like you got him back.”
That was painful and irrational.
Human.
Then Dulcie.
“She looked like Evan.”
“And?”
“Mom said, ‘At least she has your smile.’”
Ramona heard:
Not a Whitlock.
No one meant exclusion consciously.
But families build belonging through resemblance language all the time.
Then modeling.
“I wanted something no one could take from Dulcie.”
Benedict asked:
“Did Dulcie ask for that?”
“No.”
There.
Then:
“And when they chose Nell?”
“I felt sixteen again.”
Benedict said:
“Nell was eight.”
Ramona cried.
“I know.”
That sentence mattered.
Adults often punish children for making them feel an old age.
The child does not become the person from the memory.
Then Benedict:
“You cut my daughter because you were fighting Dad.”
“No.”
Ramona paused.
“Partly.”
That was more honest.
Then he said:
“I love you.”
She sobbed.
“I love you too.”
“Loving you doesn’t mean you get access to Nell.”
“I know.”
Good.
May you like
Relationship between siblings could resume before aunt-niece relationship.
No package deal.
