“So what do you like to do?” I ask, turning toward her. She shrugs. “You like arts?” “Sometimes we do art at school,” she replies. “What about sports? Or music?” “At school,” she repeats. “Hm,” I mumble to myself. “Tante Elizabeth is a ballerina,” she says, and I turn to her with interest. “That’s nice,” I reply. “Does your papa ever take you to her shows?” Bea slumps in her seat. “No. Papa doesn’t take me anywhere.” “Nowhere?” I ask. She shakes her head. I can see sadness creeping in on her face, so I decide to change the subject—again. “Well, I love arts and crafts and sports and music. So
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