Truth be told, we make up stories for all sorts of reasons. To protect ourselves. To feel superior. To deflect blame. To turn disaster into advantage. For no better reason than that we can.

“I’m not saying we should,” I tell Mimi. “But it’s an option.”

“Lie to my mother?”

“You lie to her all the time. Remember the time when you—”

“I don’t lie,” says Mimi. “Sometimes I leave details out.”

“Like the time you . . .”

Mimi sits up on the edge of the bed. I can see that she’s thinking about getting up, but her face has an unhealthy tint to it, and her eyes don’t sparkle.

“You okay?”

“Evidently not,” she says and lies back down. “Maybe I’ll just stay here.”

“I can go out and get more food.”

Mimi pulls the blankets over her body and curls up into a fetal position. “You know what I really want?”

“To go home?”

“Canned peaches,” says Mimi. “I’d like some canned peaches.”

“We could get canned peaches in Guelph.”

“Did you think about what I asked?” Mimi peers at me from under the covers. “About dying?”

I stand and stretch.

“You’re not dying, you know.”

I stretch some more.

“And when you get back,” says Mimi, “you can read the newspaper to me again.”

IX

So we’re in Prague.

The sky is dark, the city is aglow, the streets are busy with happy tourists. I wander around trying to think of what I can bring back to the hotel. Bananas should be easy enough to find. I’m not sure about the peaches, but I can always pick up a box of crackers.

White rice.

I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. Invalids and white rice. Upset stomachs and white rice. Bland, bland, bland. And available at any Chinese restaurant in the world. If Uncle Leroy and the Crow bundle had been a Chinese restaurant, we would have found them years ago.

And I find one on a side street just before Old Town Square. It’s a small place, brightly lit, with pictures of the available dishes on a sandwich board. In terms of quality, this is never a good sign, but there is little one can do to ruin white rice.

I’m reaching for the door when it flies open, hits me in the chest, and knocks me to the ground. I don’t even know that I’ve fallen until I look up and see a woman standing over me.

“Oh my god!”

My head hurts, and my eyes don’t want to focus. I’ve hit my head. That much is clear. And my right hip aches. I move my hands. Then I move my legs. I don’t think anything is broken.

“Are you all right?”