They were in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Elo had her hair pulled up, and the bathroom light caught the pale lines.
“Mommy, what are those marks?” Maya asked.
Elo froze for a second. She’d known this question would come.
“When I was little,” she said, “someone hurt me. These are the marks left behind.”
“Does it hurt now?” Maya asked.
“No, baby,” Elo said. “Not anymore.”
“Who hurt you?” Maya asked.
“Someone who was supposed to take care of me,” Elo said. “But my friend—your Auntie Sky—helped me. And now I’m okay.”
Maya touched the scars gently with small fingers.
“I’m sorry that happened,” she said.
“Me too,” Elo replied. “But I make sure it doesn’t happen to other kids now.”
“That’s why you help people,” Maya said.
“Yes,” Elo said.
“You’re the best mommy,” Maya said.
Elo’s eyes filled with tears.
“You’re the best daughter,” she said.
At thirty-eight, Elo received news that surprised her.
Miss Calva had died in prison. Natural causes.
Elo stared at the short notice on her phone.
She called Sky.
“Miss Calva died,” she said.
“How do you feel?” Sky asked.
“I don’t know,” Elo said. “Sad for her, maybe. But mostly… nothing.”
“That’s okay,” Sky said. “You don’t owe her anything. Not even your feelings.”