I think about those eleven months more than I would like to admit. I had noticed something was wrong, but I kept telling myself that staying quiet was protecting her. In reality, I was helping her hide something that needed attention. I had confused respecting her privacy with leaving her alone.

I understand why she kept coming back. She had found a place where someone saw the patch without making her explain it. She could sit in the chair, hand over her money, and ask for the same haircut. For a while, that was the only way she knew how to let another adult close.

But the truth was that I couldn’t keep covering it forever. The day the hair no longer reached across the crown, Clemency and I both knew something had to change. I am grateful she trusted me enough to answer my question, and that she eventually agreed to bring her mother.

I don’t know how quickly the treatment will work. I only know that the patch is filling in, her mother is beside her, and Clemency no longer has to carry the secret by herself.