And Noah laughed — properly, out of nowhere, the first real laugh anyone had heard out of him in three weeks — and Chloe, standing behind him in the doorway, put her hand flat against the wall to hold herself up.

And about twenty minutes after that, Alma said, “There’s a closet.”

Teresa said, “Mamá.”

“He is thirteen.

He can see a closet.”

She took him down the hall and opened it, and Chloe and I stood in the doorway of the bedroom and looked at a shelf with thirteen wrapped presents on it.