"I wasn't good looking," Maya Reimnitz's grandmother told Maya when Maya was fifteen. "So I passed mostly unnoticed."
Maya saw her grandmother's eyes fill.
"I spent twenty years wishing I was pretty," the old woman went on, her frail hands clutching at Maya's arm. "Then, I thanked God I wasn't."
Maya wanted to cry out, "Stop Bobeshi, I don't want to know!" because she already did know what was coming, or could guess at it at least, and that was just as horrific. But her grandmother was on her deathbed and Maya would not upset her by refusing to listen.