It mattered anyway.
Olivia remained more difficult.
She never quite stopped seeing herself as caught in the crossfire of everyone else’s intensity. Even after learning about the trust fund disparity, even after my parents’ formal acknowledgment, she still filtered the story through the inconvenience of having to become conscious.
“This has all been really hard on me too,” she said once, and I actually laughed because by then I had stopped protecting people from hearing themselves.
It was not that she was heartless.
It was that she had been raised as the child whose discomfort always drew immediate institutional concern. Of course she interpreted the family fracture partly through what it cost her emotionally. Privilege often produces that kind of distorted self-centrality even in people who are otherwise decent.
Over time, she improved some.
Not elegantly.
Not all the way.
She became more aware.
Slightly less entitled.
More capable of hearing no without converting it into injury.
But if Marcus became honest, Olivia became complicated.
Sometimes that is the best available outcome.
My Parents
I see my parents rarely now.