Chapter 26 - MARGARET AND LILY
Lily was sixteen when she asked to see Margaret.
I said nothing for several seconds.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I want to know if she still looks at me like I’m fake.”
Therapeutic setting.
One hour.
I did not attend.
Daniel waited in another room.
Margaret was fifty-nine.
Older.
Smaller.
No blazer.
No pearls.
Lily later told me the first thing Margaret asked was:
“Can I hug you?”
Lily said no.
Margaret answered:
“Okay.”
That mattered.
They talked.
Lily asked:
“Why did you care so much about the trust?”
Margaret said:
“Because I had spent years believing keeping control was the same as protecting the family.”
“Did you hate my mom?”
“Yes.”
Lily appreciated the honesty.
“Why?”
“Because she made Daniel question me.”
“Good.”
Margaret actually smiled.
“So I learned.”
Then Lily asked:
“Did you hate me?”
Margaret cried.
“No.”
“Then why was hurting me easy?”
Margaret had no immediate answer.
Finally:
“Because I turned you into a symbol instead of seeing you as a child.”
Lily told me that sentence later.
“It sounded therapist-y.”
“Was it true?”
“I think so.”
“Do you want to see her again?”
“Maybe.”
Maybe became lunch six months later.
Then nothing for a year.
Then another lunch.
No automatic restoration.
No caregiving authority.
May you like
No family forcing closeness because Margaret was aging.
Time did not create entitlement.
