I threw up my hands. This was the classic three’s-a-crowd scenario, and right now three felt more like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. “Schwa, could you just go and walk some dogs?”

“I got all day.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” asked Lexie.

I sighed. “Lexie, meet the Schwa. Schwa, meet Lexie.”

“Calvin,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

By now Prudence and Envy were both getting restless. We walked them back home, and I took them upstairs alone. When I came back outside, Lexie was touching the Schwa’s face.

“Hey!” I shouted, running back to them.

“I wanted Lexie to see me,” the Schwa said, “like she saw you.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see you?”

Lexie’s eyebrows furrowed as she keyboarded across the Schwa’s face. “Hmm . . . that’s interesting.”

“What?” the Schwa asked. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s like . . . It’s like I can’t get a clear impression. Your face feels . . .”

“Invisible,” I suggested.

“No,” said Lexie, searching for the right word. Now she moved her fingers across his face more intently than she had searched mine. And although she touched his lips, she didn’t check out his teeth. If she did, I would have thrown a hemorrhage, although I can’t really say why.

“His face is . . . pure,” she said. “Flavorless—like sweet-cream ice cream.”

The Schwa smiled. “Yeah? My face is like ice cream?”

“Sweet cream,” I reminded him. “It has no taste.”

“Yes, it does,” said Lexie. “It’s just very subtle.”

“Nobody likes it,” I said.

“It’s my favorite,” Lexie answered.

The Schwa only grinned, and threw a disgustingly happy glance in my direction.

Now let’s be clear on something here. I had only just met Lexie, and she wasn’t really my type. I mean, I’m Italian, she’s blind. It was a mixed relationship. But seeing her fingers on Schwa’s face . . . I don’t know, it did something to me.

The two of us had lunch down in Crawley’s restaurant. Lobster on the house. Schwa, in his slippery way, appeared at the table and tried to squeeze in, but I was ready for him. I quickly brought down two dogs for him to walk, and no sooner had I put the leashes in his hands than the maître d’ threw a conniption fit about health codes, and quickly shooed Schwa and the dogs out the back way.

“Your friend’s funny,” Lexie said after he was gone.

“Yeah,” I said, “Funny in the head.” Right away I felt this unpleasant stab of guilt for turning on the Schwa like that.

Lexie smirked, and for a moment, I forgot she was blind, because I knew she was seeing everything.

9. Maybe They Had It Right in France Because Getting My Head Lopped Off by a Guillotine Would Have Been Easier