Chapter 10 - MADISON CALLS
I did not want to talk to Madison.
Then I remembered:
She was twelve.
Not a trustee.
Not a financier.
Not the architect of my family.
So when she called, I answered.
“Aunt Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Is Noah okay?”
“He was hurt.”
“I know.”
“Why did you do it?”
Silence.
Then:
“It was supposed to be funny.”
“For whom?”
She cried.
“I don’t know.”
“Did your dad tell you to?”
“No.”
“Grandpa?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
She hesitated.
“Everybody says Noah gets everything.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who says that?”
“Dad sometimes.”
“What exactly?”
“That Noah has your money and his dad’s money and Grandpa’s money someday.”
I closed my eyes.
“What does that have to do with his birthday?”
Madison whispered:
“It feels like everybody always feels sorry for him because Uncle Aaron died.”
There.
A child learning scarcity through grief.
“He lost his father.”
“I know.”
“But sometimes it’s like he gets special treatment.”
“Madison, his father being dead is not special treatment.”
She started crying harder.
“I know.”
Not fully.
Not yet.
“Why the mud?”
“Grandpa said Noah needed to stop being so sensitive.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Grandpa told you to dump it?”
“No.”
“He just says that stuff.”
Important distinction.
Madison had chosen the prank.
May you like
Adults had built the atmosphere.
Both truths.
