“The Lakers won.”

She turned her attention back to the TV. The anchor was reporting on the terrorist threats that might strike on Memorial Day. The FBI said they’d been tipped off by Afghan detainees about a plan to use scuba divers to sabotage atomic power stations. We were meant to stay alert for unattended packages, we were meant to report suspicious-looking people.

Mom seemed so small in the blue TV light, and so exhausted. In an excess of tenderness, I crawled onto the couch and took her in my arms.

“Don’t make me spill,” she said, and held her cup away.

But I pressed closer, breathing her in. I became large and proud, like I was capable of this intimacy even if she wasn’t. I was big enough to hold her like this, big enough for both of us.

Mom said, “You smell like your father.”

I was rocking her back and forth, lost in my love, but released her when she said, “He had a drinking problem too.”

5.

In the morning, over coffee and green-onion omelets, we said goodbye. Mom had looked up Mimico on the map, which annoyed me, as if she didn’t quite believe what I’d told her yesterday and had to check it for herself. The traffic was fine on the highway north, she said. Then we leaned into a hug and I got in the Highlander.

On the road, I tried to think of other things, reviewing what I knew of Pavel Firea. Dr. Kriss had shared with me the raw data from his stay at Legacy General, the hospital in Mimico. Even at a glance, I could tell it was more comprehensive than what I’d found on Sunshine Ray’s CD, a good sign.

In April 2001, Common Dreams had responded to Pavel, who’d called 911, saying he’d been shot in a home invasion. The data stated that Pavel was kept under observation for about sixty days, the same number listed for Jules in the report, though not on Ray’s CD. The goal of my interview was to determine whether there were any discrepancies between this data and Pavel’s version of events.

Mimico was an abomination of urban planning. In its very center, five highways converged and shot out in different directions, carving up the city. As a result, the map never cohered. It seemed like a loose affiliation of unrelated districts, each contained by another annihilating slab of highway.