“Why does he want you?” she asked.

“I wish I could tell you. I viewed it all as a joke at first. I still do,

I suppose. Supposedly I am an expert in nothing and that’s why he wants me.”

“But you are an expert in nothing.”

“I can’t argue with you. It’s true that if there’s one thing I know, it’s nothing.”

The train stopped and we got out. On our way to the next train I thought I saw Gloria. It was a brief glimpse and then the face was gone, but it was more than enough to spook me and so I led us out of the Metro and onto the street. We were now in Chinatown.

“You’re planning on sending me back to Providence alone,” she said.

We were standing in front of a Chinese restaurant called Meiyou. I looked at the dead, plucked, and uncooked ducks sitting in the window.

“Wala?”

“I want you to be safe.”

“I need to find out what Sill is really doing. I need to know.”

“I want to stay with you and Trigo.”

I looked at the restaurant menu displayed outside, remembered that I never had pizza. “Let’s grab a bite. Trigo is hungry and so am I. Aren’t you hungry? Of course you are. We’ll sit and rest and figure this out.”

We sat at a table away from the window, but where I could see out. I pulled Trigo into my lap as we looked at the menus.

The waiter saw Trigo and came quickly over. “I’m sorry, but we do not allow pets in the restaurant. He can wait outside. People usually tie their dogs to the bike rack.”

“I can’t do that,” I said. I held Trigo up for inspection.

“Your dog has no legs,” he said.

“He has one,” I said.

The waiter looked around the restaurant and then back toward the kitchen. “I’ve never seen anything like that. You must love your dog very much.”

“I do.”

“He does,” Eigen said.

“What is his name?”

“Trigo.”

“What does it mean?”

“In Spanish it means wheat,” I said. “It can also refer to the number three. But actually it doesn’t mean anything. It’s his name.”

“Names always mean something,” the waiter said. “My name is Yingjie. It means brave hero.”

“My name is Wala. It means nothing.”

“And your name?” the waiter spoke to Eigen. “What does your name mean?”

“My name is Eigen. Private.”

“I will be back for your orders,” he said.

“He didn’t seem happy,” Eigen said.

“I think he didn’t like our names.”

“What was I doing, Wala?”

“You said you wanted to be bad,” I told her. “And I kind of got it.”

“I remember that much. I’m such a fool.”

“We’re both fools. Maybe we’re all fools.”