I taught kids in the church who couldn't afford real lessons. I wrote songs nobody recorded, but everybody sang. I raised you. She tapped the spoon gently against Amara's nose, leaving a tiny dot of broth. That's a life, sweetheart.
Maybe not a famous one, but a good one. Another shift. Amara was 14 now. The memory she hated most. The hospital room was too white, too clean, too full of machines that beeped and hissed like they were counting down something inevitable.
Her grandmother lay in the bed thinner than she'd been a month ago. The cancer had moved fast. Come here, baby. Amara moved to the bedside. She'd been crying for days, but right now her eyes were dry.
Empty. Loretta reached out and took her hand. Her grip was weak, but she squeezed. I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?
Amara nodded. I'm not going to tell you everything's going to be okay. I don't know if it will be. Loretta's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. But I need you to promise me something.
Anything. Don't beg for pity. Not from anyone. Don't let them see you as something broken that needs fixing. She pulled Amara's hand to her chest right over her heart.
This is where your weapon lives. Right here. Everything I taught you, it's all in there now. And when the time comes, you use it. Not to hurt anyone, but to make them see you.
Really see you. Grandma, promise me. I promise. Loretta smiled. It was tired, but it was real.
3 days later, she was gone. The memory dissolved. Amara opened her eyes. She was back in the lounge, sitting on the floor, her backpack in her lap. Her throat felt tight.
Nobody in this room knew who Loretta Hayes was. Nobody knew what she taught. Nobody knew that the woman who died in a hospital bed because she couldn't afford treatment had once been one of the first black women to graduate from Juilliard's composition program. Nobody knew she'd trained a boy named Daniel Carter who went on to become the CEO of the network that owned this very show. But Amara knew.
And tonight that knowledge was going to matter.