She opened the drivers door of her tiny yellow Scion.

– Those kits? The impossibly difficult ones? Cities, trains, huge airliners. He opens the box, glances at the instructions, and builds them without ever making a mistake. You can take thousands of pieces, mix them all up, pull out one and show it to him, and hell know exactly what kit its from, where it goes, even what page its on in the instructions, and its code number. The other kids know hes different, but theyre young enough to think its cool that he knows so much about Legos.

She shaded her eyes from the sun to look up at my face, smiling.

– They come to him with all their Lego dilemmas. Hes like their shaman. Treasured for his oddness. For now, anyway.

A big sigh.

– Well see in a couple of years how they deal with him.

– Um, Lei.

– Yes?

– Speaking of touch, could I have my hand back.

She looked at the hand shed not released since she first took hold of it, laughed, let it go.

– Sorry. Sorry. Poor Yong hates to be touched, and his mother is so touchy-feely. I have to struggle not to hold his hand or rub his neck. And then it gets bottled up sometimes, next thing I know Im stroking the cheek of someone I met five minutes ago.

She raised and dropped her shoulders and climbed into the car.

– Ive invaded the personal space of every checkout person at our Ralphs. The tellers at the bank, theyre lucky they have those Plexiglas shields to hide behind or Id be hugging them every time I go in.

I pushed the door closed and she rolled down the window.

– Nice to meet you, Web. Glad we finally did. When I didnt see you last year, at the memorial, I was disappointed. Id wanted to thank you. I was going to track you down, but then Po Sin said he ran into you at your friends shop. I figured it was a matter of time before he got you over for dinner or something. And then time kept passing. I stopped thinking about it as much. I guess I got lazy about finding you and telling you how grateful we were of you sitting with Xing. Taking her off the bus. Her teacher told us she wouldnt get out from under her seat for him or any of the police. And I know how. You must have been very. Upset is a lame word. But. So to go back on the bus and help get her off and sit with her and help settle her. That was special. It meant a lot when we heard about it.

She reached out the window and grabbed my hand and squeezed.

– So there. I said it without crying, and you didnt even run away.

She let me go.

– Hope I didnt freak you out too much, Web.

I showed her the hand shed held.

– Nothing a bar of Ivory wont cure.

She laughed.

– Takes more than that to get me off.

She put the car in reverse, started to roll.

– Hey keep an eye on Po Sin for me. Dont let him eat crap. If he has a stroke and dies on me Ill be stuck alone with Xing, and I just know shell kill me in my sleep one night.

She pulled into traffic and drove away.

I went to the door and stood there and watched Po Sin on the floor, taking turns with Xing, handing Lego pieces one by one to Yong, who assembled them.

I came into the room.

– I like your wife.

Po Sin rested a hand on his daughters knee, handed a Lego to his son, never taking his eyes from them.

– Yeah, me too.

Xing looked over at me.

– You were Tamekas teacher, werent you?

I stood there. Po Sin turned his head. Yong built his monstrous, hidden cave.

I nodded.

– Yeah, I was.

She touched her head.

– She had a cool hat.

I nodded.

– Yeah, she did.

She smiled and went back to helping Yong.

I walked into the shop, pulled on my gloves, and started scrubbing.

– Do you have any other clothes?

I looked down at the T and blue jeans and sneakers Id been wearing for over twenty-four hours.

– My dinner jacket is at the cleaners just now. But if you dont think it would be gauche, I could wear my morning coat.

Gabes expression remained immobile. Except maybe his eyes rolled around and around behind his shades without me knowing it.

– Nothing else to wear.

He extended his arm, shooting his wrist free of his jacket cuff, and looked at his watch.

– OK.

He steered us east on Burbank Boulevard.

– Po Sin lock up?

I pointed back in the direction of the shop.

– What tipped you off? I mean, besides the fact he left me sitting outside waiting for you after he took the kids home? What the fuck, I cant be trusted now?

Gabe drove, reserving comment. Reserving just about any indication that he was alive, as I was already learning, being a big specialty of his.

I picked up the slack.

– Really, man, Im not trying to get off the hook for the van or anything, but I was supposed to watch the shof. I succeeded in that. Now, when Po Sin has to take the kids for dinner and youre late, I have to wait on the sidewalk? That, frankly, is bullshit.

Gabe took a left onto Lankershim.

– You tell Po Sin all this?

I looked out the window.

– Well. No.

He pulled to the curb at a Goodwill and killed the engine.

– That was probably a good idea.

He climbed out and walked around the car and stopped on the sidewalk and looked back at me.

– You coming?

I got out and closed the door.

– I didnt realize I was required.

He pushed through the glass doors into the shop.

– Certainly required if you want anything to fit.

– Here, hold out your wrist.

I held out my wrist and Gabe flipped open the knife blade on his Leatherman and cut the tag from the sleeve of my jacket.

I fiddled with the stiff collar of the white button-down that was chafing my neck.

– You know, when you said you needed help with business communications, I assumed that was like code for doing something illegal. I didnt realize I needed to actually dress in business attire.

He slipped the Leatherman away and started the Cruiser.

– You have that other bag?

I pointed at the two bags in the footwell, one containing my sneakers, stinking jeans and T and socks, the other holding the odds and ends hed bought at the Goodwill.

– Yeah.

I clicked the heels of the worn loafers that were the only black shoes in the shop that fit me.

– Hey are these technically work clothes? Can I write these off? I mean, with what I make, a twenty-five-dollar suit and six-dollar shoes are major deductions.

We drove down a long boulevard of beige stucco apartment buildings and strip malls, the mission school architectural palette of Los Angeles as it had blossomed in all its late twentieth-century glory.

Gabe shook his head.

– I wouldnt know how to file a tax return.

The ride west on the 101, and then south on the 405, was undertaken to the accompanying squawk of the police-band radio mounted under the dash, calling out numbered codes and responses that Gabe kept one ear cocked for. I was reminded of listening to a ball game with certain avid ap-preciators who have moved on from rooting for one team or the other, and became highly tuned appreciators of the game and its nuances. Gabe hemmed, grunted, clucked his tongue and, once, snorted in reaction to the story the radio was telling him.

As the 405 cut past the Veterans Administration Healthcare Center, I pointed at the radio.

– Anything good?

He leaned forward, turned the volume up slightly, and tsked at whatever the cops were currently getting up to.

I nodded.

– Just tell me when someone wins.

And I closed my eyes.

– Were here.

I opened my eyes on a residential neighborhood of fake Tudors and Georgians and haciendas with large front yards crawling with bougainvil-lea, gardenia bushes, and lemon trees in the midst of huge lawns and thick ficus sculpted into hedge. I looked around for a street sign and found one up at the corner. Butterfield and Manning.