"Did you fire her?"
Kesha laughed unexpectedly. Marcus looked offended.
"Why does everyone think I just fire people?"
"Cartoons," Kesha said.
Zoe looked between them.
"Did you?"
Kesha knelt.
"The company investigated. The flight attendant lost her job because what she did was wrong."
"Because she hurt you?"
"Yes, and because she wasn't treating me fairly."
Zoe thought.
"Because you're Black?"
The directness caught both parents. Kesha nodded.
"That was part of it."
Zoe looked at her own hand. Then at her mother's.
"That's dumb."
Marcus covered a smile. Kesha agreed.
"Very."
"Did she say sorry?"
"Not to me directly."
"Would you forgive her?"
Kesha closed her eyes. Marcus started laughing.
"What?" Zoe asked.
"Nothing," Kesha said. "Apparently this question follows me everywhere."
She answered her daughter differently than reporters.
"I hope she becomes better."
"Is that forgiving?"
"Not exactly."
"Okay."
Children accepted complexity faster than television panels. At six, Zoe flew alone with Kesha to Memphis to visit Denise and Raymond. Raymond was retired by then and had become the kind of grandfather who inspected playground equipment for loose bolts before allowing Zoe near it. Denise kept the Flight 847 report on a shelf but rarely mentioned it.
One evening, after Zoe went to bed, Kesha sat with her parents on the back porch. Denise said:
"I saw the video again last week."
Kesha groaned.
"Why?"
"Someone sent it."
"Delete those people."