Her mother, Marta, sold homemade sweets near a bus station.
Luía had been cleaning houses since she was eighteen.
But cleaning wasn’t her dream.
Her dream was psychology.
More specifically, child psychology.
Every night after work, she attended classes.
Sometimes she arrived exhausted.
Sometimes she fell asleep over her books.
Sometimes she studied while waiting for buses.
But she refused to quit.
She believed children didn’t become difficult for no reason.
There was always something underneath.
Fear.
Loneliness.
Grief.
Abandonment.
Anger.
Something.
That morning, while she was tying her worn shoes, her phone rang.
It was the agency.
“Luía?”
“Yes?”
“We have an emergency job.”
“Where?”
“Morumbi.”
She paused.
“Morumbi?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of work?”
“Housekeeping.”
“How much?”
“Double your usual rate.”
Luía looked toward the kitchen.
Her mother was counting money at the table.
Double pay could cover almost two weeks of household expenses.
“When do I start?”
