Chapter 14 - The Last Graduation Gift
Diane asked to see me alone.
We met at a quiet café near Friendship Heights.
She brought the deep-burgundy envelope.
I almost laughed.
“That thing has caused enough damage.”
“There’s something else.”
She placed a small velvet box on the table.
Inside was another silver medallion.
Older.
Scratched.
Rebecca’s original Morrison Medal.
I stared at it.
“Why do you have this?”
“Rebecca left it with Mom when she went into treatment.”
Diane had kept it after Grandma moved into assisted living.
She told herself she was preserving it.
The phrase irritated me.
Preserving.
Protecting.
Always prettier words for controlling.
“Why didn't you give it back?”
Diane looked at the medal.
“I hated it.”
“Why?”
“Because Rebecca won everything I didn't.”
That answer surprised me.
Diane had spent her childhood being the reliable daughter.
Rebecca was brilliant but chaotic.
She won scholarships.
Awards.
Teachers remembered her.
Then she became addicted, and suddenly Diane became the responsible one everyone needed.
For the first time, she felt like the successful sister.
Rebecca’s recovery threatened that story too.
Then I came along.
I was quiet.
Academic.
Stubborn.
Interested in public health.
I won the same medal.
Diane had spent years telling herself she disliked my “need for recognition.”
In reality, my accomplishments reminded her of Rebecca.
Logan never did.
That was part of why favoritism came so easily.
It was not only that he protected Diane’s secrets.
He did not trigger her oldest resentment.
Diane pushed the medal toward me.
“This belongs to Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
“I want you to give it to her.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Diane looked confused.
“You give it to her.”
Her face changed.
“I don't think she wants to see me.”
“Then you finally get to experience what it's like when someone else controls whether you have access.”
The words were harsh.
But true.
Diane closed the box.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
I looked at her.
“I don't know.”
For once, I refused to comfort her with an answer I didn't have.
I stood.
Before leaving, I said:
“But if you want any chance of that, stop asking me for the ending before you've done the work.”
May you like
Diane nodded.
And for the first time in my life, my mother let me walk away without telling me where to go.
