“Buckwheat, linden, or wildflower?” Aspirin inquired.
The girl glanced at her toy.
“Flower would be best. But it’s not crucial.”
“Of course,” he said hoarsely. “And does he need a spoon?”
The girl smirked. “Where did you see bears eating with a spoon? In cartoons?”
“Mmm,” Aspirin said noncommittally. He placed a jar of flower honey in front of the bear, struggling with the tight lid. Finally getting it open, he stepped over to the sink, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared, as if expecting the button eyes to blink, and the bear to reach for the jar with its overstuffed paw, scooping out honey and aiming it at the mouth embroidered on the plush face . . .
The toy remained still. Because of course it did. Aspirin needed to get some sleep.
The girl took the bear’s paw, sniffing and wrinkling her nose in delight. “Mishutka likes it a lot. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Aspirin sighed. “And now that he’s eaten . . .”
“What do you mean ‘now that he’s eaten’? He’s barely started.”
Aspirin looked at his watch. It was half past two. By the time they ran from the scene of the crime, by the time they made it home by back alleys, by the time Aspirin figured out what to do . . .
“Do you have a home phone number?” he asked without much hope.
“No,” the girl said, pretending to scoop out the honey with the bear’s paw, smacking her lips with pretend pleasure.
“Are you planning on returning home?”
The girl picked up a napkin and wiped the bear’s face clean. She had short pink nails and clean untanned arms. Her freshly washed T-shirt was adorned with two flying dragons and the words krakow. learning to fly.
“Have you ever been to Krakow?”
She didn’t respond.
Aspirin poured himself more brandy. His hands had almost ceased shaking.
“What was it, exactly?” he asked, staring at the girl’s striped socks.
“Where?”
“There, in the alley. What exactly happened last night?”
The girl sighed.
“He came for me. And I don’t want to go with him.”
“Who is he? Your father?”
“No, he’s not my father.”
“A stepfather?”
“It’s just Him.”
“‘Him’? Him who?”
The girl sighed again. It was unnerving seeing a young girl so exasperated. Especially one who was also so calm after the night’s events. Aspirin rubbed his palms together nervously.
“Who killed the dog?”
Without hesitation, the girl nodded in the direction of the toy bear. Aspirin thought of the pale pit bull torn in half.
“Actually,” the girl said thoughtfully, “they killed it. A while ago. When it chased you, it was already dead.”
That made no sense. None of this made sense. The dog looked like it had been blown apart. “But there was no explosion,” Aspirin mused. “Maybe . . . maybe they had something like . . . something fell in the dog’s path and blew up.” But again, he hadn’t heard anything.
Nothing but that incredible shriek.
“A mouse ran by and flicked its tail,” the girl said without a smile. “The egg fell down and exploded. Are you sleepy?”
More nonsense. And yet, it made the conversation seem more natural—as if they were talking about numerous different things at each other, and not with each other—and so he responded in kind. “I was just on air for six hours, telling jokes and other nonsense,” Aspirin admitted. “I talked to some idiots who called the station. I put on stupid songs they requested. Then a bunch of underage delinquents set their pit bull on me. And that pit bull goes ahead and dies. And not just dies, it explodes. So maybe I’m tired. Maybe I’m just going crazy.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the girl said, her tone just a touch patronizing. “You can have another drink and go to bed.”
“And when I wake up, you won’t be here,” Aspirin suggested dreamingly, already reaching for the brandy.
“Don’t count on it,” the girl said and hugged her teddy.
Monday
Miracles don’t exist, so when Aspirin limped into the kitchen at nine in the morning, the girl was sitting on a stool in front of a perfectly clean table, legs crossed, staring out the window and humming softly to herself. Aspirin’s passport lay opened on a metal tray in front of her.
“What the . . . ?”
Incensed, Aspirin swore as no one should swear in front of children; he immediately felt guilty . . . and that angered him further.
The girl turned to face him. Her brown teddy bear sat in her lap, or rather between her crossed legs, watching Aspirin with its