Chapter 6 - ELAINE PORTER’S COWARDICE
Elaine agreed to meet me at a coffee shop near Oak Park.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Older, obviously.
But the voice was identical.
She ordered tea.
Did not touch it.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Did you write that evaluation?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly to misunderstand.
“You evaluated me.”
“Yes.”
“What did you conclude?”
“That you were academically strong, emotionally perceptive, conflict-avoidant, and experiencing chronic stress from family comparison.”
I stared at her.
“What did you recommend?”
“That your parents stop comparing you to Rebecca.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
“What happened?”
“Your father asked me to alter the language.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then where did his report come from?”
Her eyes dropped.
“I don’t know who physically created it.”
“But you found out.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Months later. A family attorney referenced language I never wrote.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted your mother.”
Not Dad.
Mom.
That mattered.
“What did she say?”
“She begged me not to create a scandal.”
“And you listened?”
Elaine looked ashamed.
“I was thirty-five. Recently divorced. Two children. Your father sat on the school donor board.”
“So you stayed quiet.”
“Yes.”
“And then the foundation started paying you.”
Her face tightened.
“I didn’t ask.”
“But you took it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked directly at me.
“Because cowardice can become very comfortable when somebody pays it annually.”
I did not forgive her.
But I believed her.
Then she reached into her bag and handed me a copy.
The original evaluation.
My actual evaluation.
There was handwriting on the back.
My mother’s.
ELAINE — REMOVE ANY REFERENCE TO SIBLING COMPARISON. RICHARD DOES NOT WANT REBECCA QUESTIONED.
I looked up.
“Questioned about what?”
Elaine’s expression changed.
“I never knew.”
Then she added:
“But the timing always bothered me.”
“What timing?”
“The false report was created about six weeks after Rebecca suddenly left school.”
I frowned.
“She had mono.”
Elaine said nothing.
Four months.
Rebecca had missed almost an entire semester.
I called her from the parking lot.
“Were you actually sick when you were eighteen?”
Silence.
“Rebecca?”
May you like
Her voice went quiet.
“Come over.”
