Julian as a boy with a gap in his teeth.

Julian in a graduation gown, Julian on a beach, Julian asleep, Julian eating, Julian caught unaware through a window, through a windshield, from across a street.

His entire life, documented and pinned and layered, and moving through it like a second figure in every stage was Victoria — young, then older, then old — always there, always at his shoulder, always with that same hand on that same arm.

And what struck me, once I could think at all, was who was missing.

There were no friends in those pictures.

No cousins, no schoolmates, no girlfriends, no one.