Silenced

by Ann Claycomb

“There is plenty of strength in you, but you are supple, like a dancer, and you bend into your strength. I couldn’t bend. I worry that what I had to teach you—” she nodded at Ranjani’s hand, still gripping the scalpel “—wasn’t what you needed from me.” “You taught me everything,” Ranjani said, as horrified by this admission as she’d been by the sight of her mother’s blood. Shreshthi smiled slightly. “Don’t look so alarmed, Rani. Most of my life I’ve been quite sure of myself. But I want you to know that I’m proud of who you are, even if you never use a scalpel in your life.”