“Your father has a lover. An Asian woman he met on his trip. I told you that animal was a sign of misfortune. I don’t know what to do, thank goodness you’re here.”

I decided not to tell her that I’d been to the pet shop. Instead I suggested that we go to her favorite pastry shop on the other side of the city. An absurd idea that she readily agreed to. She was in such a state of shock that I think she would have gone along with anything I suggested. Once in the café, in front of a chocolate Sachertorte that she looked at as if it were a stone, she told me what she knew and how she’d learned it.

That morning, as soon as my father left for his meeting, Mom went into the pagoda and looked through his online accounts. Dad had been basically handicapped with those kinds of things for many years and Mom had handled his e-mail. She found in his trash folder two compromising photographs with dates that matched his trip.

“Her name is Zhou Xun,” she told me. “She’s an actress and, naturally, very young.”

Based on what she told me, in one of the photos my dad was with her in some scenic spot. The typical shot taken on a cell phone while out walking. In the second they were smiling, barely dressed, in what looked like a kitchen in an apartment. Both their names were on the bottom of the photo along with the dates. My mother was convinced that the actress was the one who had taken them and had promised to send them to him. Mom bemoaned her luck for an hour, not touching her cake. She listed all the sacrifices she’d made for him since the time they’d met, everything she’d done to turn him into the prestigious playwright he was today, to keep him protected in a stable home, centered around him and where he’d always had the leading role. Things obvious to both of us, and I’m sure to my father as well. She confessed to me how disappointed she was by his infidelity, and when she grew tired of feeling sorry for herself she returned to the subject of his pet.

“That animal is diabolical, I’ve said it many times before. I want to ask you to get rid of it.”

“Why don’t you kill it yourself?” I asked. But she wouldn’t.

“If your father finds out, I think it will be easier for him to forgive you.”

Mom was convinced that the snake was the incarnation of her marital troubles. She had put her entire life into that marriage. How could I refuse her request? I took her trembling hand and promised that she could count on me. She let out a heavy sigh, after which she began to eat slowly, like a good little girl whose punishment had just ended.