“There’s no future in plastic,” Dad said to me one day out of the blue.

“Sure there is,” I told him. “People will always need a plastic something or other.”

“We can only hope,” he said.

“What does Mom think?”

“Mom doesn’t work for Pisher.”

I was fishing for news from the battlefront, but he gave me none. The battlefront had become more like a demilitarized zone. They kept this chilly emotional distance. I think I liked it better when they fought.

The thing is, Dad might have built Manny to be indestructible, but he himself was not. Neither was Mom. This was a stress test I wished would just end.

I didn’t know what I’d say to Lexie. I was sure to run into her at Crawley’s apartment eventually, but I hoped maybe she would just leave the room and pretend she didn’t know I was there until I had leashed up the dogs and left.

I wasn’t so lucky.

A week after being replaced by the Schwa as her official escort, Lexie herself came to answer the door. She pulled it open wide, letting out four dogs, three of which nuzzled me for affection, but the fourth one, Prudence—who was always a loose cannon—bolted, and headed straight down the stairs. Not the back stairs we always take to get out, the grand staircase that led right down to the middle of the restaurant, where people were eating an early dinner.

“Great,” I said. “She’ll probably pull a lobster right off of someone’s plate.”

“I need your help,” Lexie said. At first I thought she meant to get the dog, but then I heard Crawley shouting and groaning from inside the apartment, over the sound of barking. Lexie’s voice was all warbly, and I could tell she was panicked. “He fell in the shower,” she said. “I think he might have broken his hip again.”

I stepped in, closing the door behind me. Let the waiters deal with Prudence, they were probably used to it. “Did you call 911?”

“They’re sending an ambulance, but he won’t let me near him. He won’t tell me anything. I don’t know what to do.”

I tried to hurry back to the master bathroom with her, but she couldn’t hurry. She moved slowly, and methodically, never bumping into anything, but never quickening her pace. It was the first time I’d ever seen her handicap be a hindrance.

Crawley was sprawled on the shower floor, clutching a towel over himself.

“Get out!” he said when he saw me.

“There’s an ambulance on its way,” I told him.

“I don’t need an ambulance. Just leave me alone.”