Cal takes a shuddering breath at the contact.

"His mother," he says. "My wife. Deborah. She's, she's learning how to take care of him. Like I did."

He thinks of looking into Calvin's room and seeing Deborah there, holding Calvin and soothing him. A year ago, she wouldn't have done that. Neither of them would have. Calvin was Marisa's job, not theirs.

He closes his eyes hard.