I DIDN’T CATCH a ride out of Clinton until late, and I wound up spending most of that night at a gas station in Groom, Texas. Early morning, a guy in a minivan took me as far as Bernalillo. From there, I got to Farmington, on to Salt Lake, and then dead west across Nevada and the mountains.

Four days out to Oklahoma. Five days back. And in all that time, I hadn’t learned a thing about my father.

I didn’t tell my mother where I had been, what I had done.

Roofing pay well? she had asked.

Well enough.

You going to do more roofing?

Probably not.

Any thoughts on what you might want to do with your life?

A few.

Don’t wait too long.

I won’t.

That fall, I enrolled at a junior college, in their journalism program. And I never looked for my father again.

OZ CUPS A HAND around his mouth. “I will give you hints,” he whispers. “Ready?”

It’s Mimi’s fault. If she wasn’t in bed, I wouldn’t be sitting at a table playing twenty questions with a man with different-coloured eyes and a watch on each wrist.

“Heterochromia.” Oz blinks his eyes a couple of times to get my attention. “This is why I have one blue eye and one gold eye. It is genetic. You might think that this curiosity has a geographical centre, but it does not. This will save you a question.”

I didn’t come all the way to Prague to play games.

“Neither are the two watches cultural.” Oz holds his wrists out. “They are not worn for social or religious reasons. This will save you another question.”

Of course, we’re not going to do anything or go anywhere until Mimi gets out of bed.

“You could ask me if Czech is my first language.”

“Is Czech like German?”

“No. And Czech is not my first language. See. I’ve given you two answers for one question.”

I check the doorway for Mimi.

Oz glances at his watches. “But it’s late. I have an appointment.” Oz picks up the globe. “Tomorrow,” he says. “We must continue tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Of course,” says Oz. “How else will we get the answers if we don’t ask the questions?”

XI

As I let myself into our hotel room, I wonder, not for the first time, why I spend my time chasing after men who are missing or dead.

My father.

My grandfather.

Leroy Bull Shield.

My mother died just after Nathan was born, but Mimi’s mother is still alive. We don’t visit her much. We talk to her on the phone, but only when the guilt becomes uncomfortable.

And we have a daughter and a son who deserve our attention, even if they don’t want it.