Now that the door was open, I couldn’t look away. I stared around at everything, at the rumpled striped bedspread that had been pulled up quickly, the very last time Mom ever said, “Samuel Aaron Davidson! Are you sure you made your bed today?” I took in the low Lego table, covered in half-built robots and starships, and the desk cluttered with junk of all kinds—pipe cleaners and broken chunks of Styrofoam.

Worst of all was the familiar orange backpack, slung over the desk chair, hastily half zipped and abandoned, untouched since the last day of school. How many times had I trudged along behind that stupid backpack? Twice a day, every day, for years. Sam had always been in a hurry. He ran everywhere. I remembered, so clearly, how Dad would bellow after him, at every single intersection, “Full stop, kid! Look both ways!” I hadn’t heard Dad raise his voice like that in a long, long time.

When I tore my gaze away from the room, I found Jasper staring at me. Probably waiting for me to undo what she’d done. Make it okay. And I wanted to. I wanted to close the door and go back to five minutes ago, but my arms were full of laundry. I didn’t have a free hand.

I opened my mouth. “Jasper, I . . .” but the right words weren’t there.

She looked nervous, hesitant.

I cleared my throat. “Jasper,” I said again. “Can you please . . .”

“Leah? What is it . . . ?”

I made my voice louder. I tried to make it sound normal. “It’s just . . . I need you to pull the door closed. Can you? My arms are full.”

“Oh!” said Jasper, shaking her head. “Of course. Sorry!”

Then she reached out and pulled it shut. She didn’t slam it, but she didn’t close it softly either, exactly. She closed it with a firm, even click.

Once the door was closed, I found I could move again. My feet came unstuck, and I turned away from Jasper without a word. I left the hallway, headed straight for the office, where I busied myself with shoving the dirty clothes in the washer. I added the soap, measuring more carefully than usual. I pushed the button. I took a breath. I took a few breaths.

When I got back to the living room, Jasper was waiting on the couch. She was holding the clicker and had the red blanket back over her lap, even though she didn’t need it anymore to cover herself. Her eyes peered up at me, worried.