The silence affirmed his words. In the distance, there was the sound of a neighbor mowing grass. The murmur of a TV, a few birds. The sun was still out. It was a beautiful day. The yellow roses swayed gently in the breeze: Luis had managed to revive the rose garden. The fact that Gaspar couldn’t enjoy the day seemed unfair to Luis, and he said so. He told Gaspar about the school he planned to send him to, about how he imagined them fixing up the house and the garden together, about his wish to start working, and about a nearby club where Gaspar could go back to playing sports, if he wanted. He didn’t know if Gaspar could hear him, nor did he notice when he fell asleep, but eventually he carried him inside to the living-room sofa and he sat down to wait, in silence, until he fell asleep too and dreamed of hallways and iron bars and the sea. When he woke up, Gaspar was looking at him in the half-darkness; the garden lights were on, and the house was full of shadows.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable there?”

“I’ll be sore everywhere tomorrow.”

Gaspar sat up, the blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Can that doctor see me tomorrow?” he asked.

Luis realized how much he loved his nephew as he watched him go into the office to see Isabel, the psychiatrist; he looked back before the door closed, and Luis gave him a dumb wave that Gaspar didn’t return. He had never felt so helpless and adrift, not even when he’d had to go into exile, or when, at his house in Brazil, he’d gotten news of comrades and friends who had disappeared or been murdered. It had all been monstrous, but that one look from Gaspar was worse. There’d been several nights when he imagined finding Gaspar dead in the bathtub, and he’d had dreams where the boy was covered in blood, others where he simply died in his sleep.

Gaspar emerged with the psychiatrist’s arm around his shoulders. They had been in there for a long time, almost two hours.

“See you on Friday? Gaspar and I decided we need to meet twice a week. We might add a third visit, if it’s necessary.”

Luis expected the psychiatrist to invite him in, but she said goodbye to both of them with a kiss on the cheek, saying, you can pay me next time.

And that was it.

In the car, Gaspar only said: I think this one is better.

Her mother had finally allowed her to call the house where Gaspar lived now with his uncle. Why had they taken him away like that, without warning? Gaspar has problems, dear. So what? We all have problems. Adela disappeared or she was killed, whatever, in the damned haunted house, and then they took Gaspar away too.