Yesterday they’d spent the afternoon on the banks of the Chowan River. He enjoyed watching the boats as they cut through the water on the way to Batchelor Bay, and it provided a change from his normal routine. Usually, when they worked, he was strapped in a chair in the living room. The chair helped him focus.

She’d picked a beautiful spot. Mockernut hickory trees lined the banks, Christmas ferns were more common than mosquitoes. They were sitting in a clover patch, just the two of them. Kyle was staring at the water. Denise carefully logged his progress in a notebook and finished jotting down the latest information. Without looking up, she asked: “Do you see any boats, sweetie?”

Kyle didn’t answer. Instead he lifted a tiny jet in the air, pretending to make it fly. One eye was closed, the other was focused on the toy in his hand.

“Kyle, honey, do you see any boats?”

He made a tiny, rushing sound with his throat, the sounds of a make-believe engine surging in throttle. He wasn’t paying attention to her.

She looked out over the water. No boats in sight. She reached over and touched his hand, making sure she had his attention.

“Kyle? Say, ‘I don’t see any boats.’ ”

“Airplane.” (Owpwane)

“I know it’s an airplane. Say, ‘I don’t see any boats.’ ”

He raised the toy a little higher, one eye still focused on it. After a moment he spoke again.

“Jet airplane.” (Jet owpwane)

“Yes, you’re holding an airplane.”

“Jet airplane.” (Jet owpwane)

She sighed. “Yes, a jet airplane.”

“Owpwane.”

She looked at his face, so perfect, so beautiful, so normal looking. She used her finger to turn his face toward hers.