In the dim of what light made it around the curtains of the window, such as the few streetlamps and stars, I could make out the shape of Gus's face looking back at me in the dark.
"Are you doing better?" I asked, just above a whisper, for that's all that was needed when we were so close.
Gus let out a slow breath through his nose. His hand on mine moved up and down my forearm beneath the blankets.
"My mom's mind broke giving birth to me," he said, just as soft. "My dad told me that before me, she'd been able to be happy. She...she had been her. But then she couldn't be. Just couldn't."
I moved the arm he rubbed closer so my fingers could tuck into the fabric of his shirt.
"It was like she couldn't hope anymore. Everything just seemed pointless to her. Nothing my dad did made any dif
