I bring the recorder to Shay and help her to hold her hands over the smooth pale body of the instrument. I teach her to blow. Shay blows too hard. It hurts my ears. I feel the lick of anger, but I let it go, like the last sigh of a wave. Shay is happy to make the recorder shriek. If Shay is happy, let her play this way.

But I cannot listen. I go back to my room and leave my recorder with Shay.