Chapter 16 - The Basketball Game
Dorothy sat three rows behind.
No approach.
No gift.
No forced smile.
Lila noticed immediately.
“She’s here.”
Claire whispered:
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Want to leave?”
“No.”
Good.
Mason played badly first half.
Missed three shots.
Dorothy’s old voice would have criticized posture.
After game, Mason’s team lost.
He looked angry.
Dorothy remained at distance.
Andrew walked over.
“Thank you for respecting boundary.”
She nodded.
“Can I tell Mason good game?”
“He wants to see you.”
Mason approached.
Dorothy hugged only after he opened arms.
“You played hard.”
He frowned.
“We lost.”
“I noticed.”
Then she smiled.
“Thomas used to say effort doesn’t become victory because adults clap louder.”
Mason laughed.
“That sounds like Grandpa.”
Dorothy looked at Lila across gym.
Did not go.
Lila watched.
Important.
Control restrained.
Then Mason asked:
“Why did you give me more?”
Direct.
Dorothy looked surprised.
“Not here.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is complicated.”
Mason’s face hardened.
“That’s what adults say.”
Dorothy almost smiled.
Then answered simply.
“Because I believed you would someday represent the family business.”
“So?”
“I thought preparing you mattered more.”
“And Lila?”
“I assumed she would choose something else.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dorothy looked down.
“Because I thought I knew.”
Mason absorbed.
“Did you like me more?”
That question terrified her.
“No.”
“Then why it looked like?”
Dorothy’s eyes filled.
“Because love without fairness can still feel like less love.”
Mason stared.
That sounded learned.
Maybe therapy.
Maybe Thomas’s words.
Still.
Then he said:
“Lila thinks you did.”
Dorothy looked at Lila.
“I know.”
She did not demand correction.
Progress.
Then family left.
Lila asked in car:
“What did she say?”
Mason hesitated.
“Do you want know?”
“Yes.”
He told.
Lila remained quiet.
Then:
“Do you believe her?”
“I think she loved me.”
“What about me?”
“I think she loved you wrong.”
Lila frowned.
“Weird.”
“Yeah.”
That may have been most accurate.
Then Dorothy began family therapy separately with Andrew and Julia—not children yet.
First session, Dorothy said:
“I was raised to believe sons carried assets and daughters carried reputation.”
Julia laughed bitterly.
“And you hated it when used against you.”
“Yes.”
“Then did it to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dorothy cried.
“Because surviving a rule can make you defend it.”
Not excuse.
Explanation.
Andrew listened.
Dorothy talked about marrying Thomas at twenty-three.
He handled money.
She handled home, donors, social networks.
She had influence but little formal authority.
When Julia wanted company role, Dorothy felt threatened.
Why?
“If Julia could do what I never did, what did that make my life?”
Julia stared.
“It made your life yours.”
Dorothy cried harder.
“I didn’t know that then.”
Then Mason/Lila generation repeated.
Mason fit role Dorothy understood.
Lila represented doors Dorothy never walked through.
She called that disrespect.
The family therapist asked:
“Did Lila cause your pain?”
“No.”
“Then why punish her?”
“Because she made me feel obsolete.”
Andrew closed eyes.
Nine-year-old as mirror.
Then therapist asked:
“What do you want now?”
Dorothy answered:
“To be their grandmother without managing what they become.”
Hard.
Possible?
Only time.
Then Andrew received updated trust statement.
Lila’s ceramics program cost $2,400.
Mason’s basketball camp $9,800.
Unequal.
Fair.
No one panicked.
That was growth too.
Then Dorothy requested one thing:
“To return the blue letter.”
Andrew frowned.
“You destroyed it.”
“No.”
He went still.
“I lied.”
Of course.
She had kept original.
May you like
In a safe-deposit box.
And now she was ready to give it back.
