Chapter 3 - THE CHILD EVERYONE CALLED EXCEPTIONAL
I was not angry that Mason had received educational support.
The foundation existed partly for exactly that.
I was angry because of the mythology wrapped around it.
Mason earns everything.
Rebecca and Andrew never ask for help.
That branch of the family invests in excellence.
Meanwhile, whenever Hannah or I suggested swimming lessons, theater camp, or eventually private-school assistance for Lily, Mom had one answer:
“We don’t want her becoming entitled.”
I called Rebecca the next morning.
“Did the foundation pay for Mason’s summer programs?”
Pause.
“Some.”
“Two hundred eighty-six thousand dollars?”
A longer pause.
“Where did you get that?”
“The foundation books.”
She became defensive immediately.
“It’s an education foundation.”
“I know.”
“So what exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“You never asked.”
I nearly laughed.
“That’s Mom’s line.”
“Daniel, don’t do this because she said something stupid to Lily.”
“Something stupid?”
“You know how she is.”
That phrase.
The family anesthetic.
You know how she is.
Which meant:
We have all agreed not to require anything better.
I said:
“Did Mom ever say Lily wasn’t eligible?”
“No.”
“Dad?”
“No.”
“Then why does Mason have a beneficiary code and Lily doesn’t?”
Rebecca had no answer.
Within forty-eight hours, the family campaign started.
Mom called my uncle.
Dad called two cousins.
Rebecca called again.
Hannah was accused of turning me against the family.
I was accused of being jealous of Rebecca.
Apparently Lily’s first-place ribbon had become evidence of some lifelong inferiority complex I had never realized I possessed.
Then my phone rang at 9:41 one night.
Mason.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Uncle Daniel?”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is Lily mad at me?”
My anger vanished.
“No.”
“Grandma says you’re angry because I got Northwestern.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“Everybody’s fighting.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
Silence.
Then he said:
“I didn’t really get it.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“The fellowship.”
He sounded like he was about to cry.
“Grandpa bought it.”
I sat down.
“What do you mean?”
“Dad said Grandpa gave them a hundred thousand dollars and then they picked me.”
“We don’t know that means Grandpa bought anything.”
“Dad said it.”
Children hear what adults assume they won’t understand.
Mason began crying.
“I didn’t ask him to.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want Lily to think I cheated.”
“She doesn’t.”
May you like
Then he said something that frightened me far more than any foundation expense.
“If I stop winning, Grandma won’t have anything to tell people about me.”
