Whether to forgive her, whether to confront her, whether to let her in a building.

Willa was not arguing about a woman.

She has never had one.

What Willa had, for fifteen years, was an absence with five different descriptions attached to it, told to her by five older sisters at five different ages, and a father who told a barbecue story.

And at twelve, she did the thing that anybody who has ever met a twelve-year-old should have predicted and that not one of the six adults in her life predicted.

She went and found out for herself.