I was afraid Peter would discover what M was. Peter had met him only a few times and knew little of his past, except that he was my son and had been in a coma for a couple of years. I hadn’t known how else to explain his tutors, the way he stared as if everything was new, his raspy voice, his awkward movements, too sharp at times, too fluid at others, the dentures he wore to hide his fangs, too large and forwardly protruding. I
