“How about the Eiffel Tower. Or the Acropolis. They were certainly memorable.”

“As are the Rocky Mountains.”

An athletic woman with a tour group in her wake steams past us. She holds a green umbrella high in the air, a rallying point for her small flotilla.

“You want to follow that group around?” I ask. “Maybe it’s in English.”

“No,” says Mimi. “I think I’d like to go back to the hotel.”

“You okay?”

“A little tired,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind a nap.”

I glance at my watch. It’s only three. Way too soon for Mimi to be giving up on the day.

“What’s wrong?”

“You wear me out, Bird,” says Mimi. “I love you, but sometimes you wear me out.”

We have to push against the crowds in order to get to the exit. I’m hoping that we’ll take the tram down the hill, but Mimi wants to walk. All the way back to the hotel, Mimi is silent, and I’m left with the certain knowledge that I’ve done something wrong.

Again.

When we get to our hotel, nothing has changed. The air conditioner is still going, our room is still hot, and the spiders are still on the ceiling. Mimi lies on the bed and pulls the blanket over her body. I sit in the chair by the window and wait.

Outside, in the shade of the Charles Bridge, a solitary musician begins playing “Yesterday” on an unhappy sax.

V

I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake up, my neck is stiff. My mouth is dry, my head hurts, my eye feels even more swollen than before.

And Mimi is gone.

At first, I think she’s in the bathroom. I shift into a more comfortable position and wait. Then I think maybe she went downstairs to see if anything could be done about the spiders.

So I stay in the chair and wait some more.

No Mimi.

I don’t wait too long. I get up and walk down to the front desk.

No Mimi.

I step outside. The musician is still standing in the shade of the bridge. Now he’s playing “If Ever I Would Leave You.”

Chip slaps a hand on my shoulder. Don’t these assholes know anything but old show tunes?

I wander through the food and craft stalls in Kampa Park, and then I walk back to the hotel and check the room. Just in case.

Still no Mimi.

I’m not worried. She has probably gone to find a market. We don’t have a refrigerator in our room, but there are lots of things that could sit out, provisions for a late-night snack. Bananas and grapes, crackers and cheese.

Or perhaps she wanted to see a particular church. A heritage site recommended in the guidebook. “I thought I’d let you sleep,” she’ll tell me. “You don’t like churches anyway.”