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She always said the story really began in Louisiana, but she knew that wasn't true.

To understand what followed her into adulthood, into apartments, relationships, and sleepless nights,

she had to start much earlier in a place she barely remembered herself.

A childhood lived partly in Mexico, remembered less through memory than through the way her mother

spoke about it, carefully and often.

As a child, she had been different. Not in a way that alarmed anyone at first. Her mother

described her as creative, imaginative, unusually comfortable on her own. She could sit for

hours, talking to herself, carrying on long conversations with an intensity that suggested

she wasn't simply playing. At first, her mother assumed loneliness. There weren't many children

around, and imagination was a comfort. Most kids had imaginary friends. That idea alone explained

everything until the day her daughter asked her to meet them.

"'She remembered the smile clearly.

"'The confidence.

"'They're right here,' the little girl said, gesturing beside her.

"'Her mother laughed gently and told her the friends were only in her head,

...