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sorry.”
    He was blathering, he was drunk. But it made me feel so much love for him, too.
    â€œYou’re tough,” he said. “You can do three days like that because you’re one tough dog.”
    I felt proud.
    â€œI know you’d never do anything deliberately to hurt Zoë,” he said.
    I laid my head on his leg and looked up at him.
    â€œSometimes I think you actually understand me,” he said. “It’s like there’s a person inside there. Like you know everything.”
    I do , I said to myself. I do .

Chapter Twelve
    E ve’s condition was unpredictable. One day she would suffer a crushing headache. Another day, a terrible stomachache. A third would open with dizziness and end with a dark and angry mood. And these days were never linked together in a row. Between them would be days or even weeks of life as usual. And then Denny would get a call at work, and he would run to Eve’s assistance. He’d drive her home from her job and spend the rest of the day watching helplessly.
    Denny felt powerless, and in that regard, I could understand his point of view. It’s frustrating for me to be unable to speak. To feel that I have so much to say, so many ways I can help, but I can’t.
    Denny avoided the madness of his situation by driving through it. There was nothing he could do to make Eve’s distress go away, and once he realized that, he made a commitment to do everything else better.
    Often things happen to race cars in the heat of the race. A transmission may break, suddenly leaving the driver without all of his gears. Or perhaps a clutch fails. Brakes go soft from overheating. Suspensions break. When faced with one of these problems, the poor driver crashes. The average driver gives up. The great drivers drive through the problem. They figure out a way to continue racing. A true champion can accomplish things that a normal person would think impossible.
    Denny cut back his hours at work so he could take Zoë to her preschool. In the evenings after dinner, he read to her and helped her learn her numbers and letters. He took over all the grocery shopping and cooking. He took over the cleaning of the house. He wanted to relieve Eve of any burden, any job that could cause stress. What he couldn’t do, though, was continue to engage her in the same affectionate way I had grown used to seeing. It was impossible for him to do everything. Clearly, he had decided that care of her would receive the topmost priority. Which I believe was the correct thing for him to do under the circumstances. Because he had me.
    Denny did not stop loving Eve; he merely delegated his love-giving to me. I became the provider of love and comfort. When she ailed and he took charge of Zoë and whisked her out so that she might not hear the cries of agony from her mother, I stayed behind. He trusted me. He would tell me, as he and Zoë packed their bottles of water and cookies, “Go take care of her for me, Enzo, please.”
    And I did. I took care of her by curling up at her bedside. Or, if she had collapsed on the floor, by curling up next to her there. Often, she would hold me close to her, hold me tight to her body, and when she did, she would tell me things about the pain.
    Demon. Gremlin. Ghost. Phantom. Shadow. Devil. People are afraid of them, so they pretend they exist only in stories. In books that can be closed and put on the shelf. They clench their eyes shut so they will see no evil. But trust me when I tell you that devils like the zebra are real. Somewhere, the zebra is dancing.
    The spring finally came to us after an exceptionally wet winter. It was full of gray days and rain and an edgy cold I found depressing. Over the winter, Eve ate poorly and became thin and pale. Denny was concerned, but Eve never heeded his pleas for her to consult a doctor. A mild case of depression, she would say. They’ll try to give her pills and she doesn’t want pills. And