Nibbling the plunder I pocketed from breakfast, a croissant I’m happy to confirm does not have a 4-H blue ribbon clipped to it, I move on to my incoming. The first is from the Disapproving Docs:

“Dan, we must once again state in the strongest possible terms that we find your actions reckless in the extreme. The very idea of scavenging for a life-saving surgery would almost be laughable if it weren’t so naïve. There are simply so many unknowns here that we demand you clear all contacts with us before proceeding. You have lined up rock solid contacts, we assume?”

Oh, rock solid, never fear. Into the recycle bin it goes. I open another e-mail from my one and only contact, the embassy friend of the friend I e-mailed before I left home. Izzy is gone all week, it turns out, but wants to know if we can meet on Friday evening when he gets back. I check my calendar. That would be cutting it close, because it’s only two days before our backup flight to Manila. Izzy suggests we meet at his synagogue, some sort of makeshift temple for expat Western Jews apparently, in a space graciously donated by a foreign-language institute. It sounds sufficiently Somerset Maugham-ish to spark my interest, and I tell him yes.

And now the reward for all my hard work: an e-mail from home. Even tapping the name of my youngest stings my heart with yearning.

Dad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MS. BOULDRY MYNEW TEACHER IS

AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

These are some words to describe her:

funny, creative, smart, childish, helpful, caring, weird,

CHATTER-BOX!!!!!!!!!!! and gets disracted really easy!

dad i love you sincerely,

Jeremy Roth-Rose

P.S. I think Flight attendants wear to much lipstick, Dont you?

Okay, that’s it. I need a blast of family heat. It’s 9:00 A.M. here, 9:00 P.M. there on a school night, but they might still be up. I dial.

The incomparable wife: “How’s it going, hon?”

Her unworthy husband: “Compared to being on a chairlift with two preadolescents? It’s a cinch,” I say.

“You staying safe? Boys, try to keep it down when I’m talking to Dad in China -”

“DAD IN CHINA!?” There’s the sound of the phone being grabbed, fumbled, moved to the fifty-yard line, intercepted. Touchdown! I manage to ram in the earplugs I’ve arranged at the ready just in time.

“How’s it goin’, Pop? You’re not getting arrested or anything?”

“Going okay, Spence.”

“Not getting gunned down by Laurence?” he says with a mock French accent. Our little motif, for some reason.

“Laurence keeps missing me so far. What’s going on with you?”

“Won a tennis trophy. Wrote a cool poem. I’m well rounded.”

“Amazing,” I say. “You astound and delight me, big boy.”

“Yeah, so I’m feeding the ducks like you asked, and everything’s fine, except Mom keeps fast-forwarding the movies through the sex parts just because Jeremy’s too young.”

“AND I ALREADY KNOW WHAT SEX IS!” adds his exuberant little brother in the background. A statement Spencer cannot let pass unchallenged.

“Okay, Jeremy, what is it?”

“Guys, guys, have a sense of the moment,” I say, “this is a phone call from around the globe.”

“Well, Mom’s saying it’s Jeremy’s turn. See ya, Dad.”

“DAD, HI, I CAME UP WITH SOME INVENTIONS JUST LIKE YOUR COUSIN. READY? BEER POPSICLES!”

“Not bad, Jeremy, I could see that catching-”

“OH, AND HOW ABOUT THIS ONE: CHEESE DOUGHNUTS! SO NEXT TIME, DAD, COULD YOU TAKE ME TO CHINA WITH YOU, BECAUSE I HAVE LOTS OF IDEAS, AND MAYBE I COULD HELP SAVE YOUR COUSIN, TOO!”

“That’s a really nice offer, Jeremy, but I don’t think-”

“BUT, DAD, YOUR COUSIN’S NOT REALLY GOING TO DIE, IS HE, DAD? YOU WON’T LET THAT HAPPEN, WILL YOU, DAD?”

“Well, I’m doing my best to-”

“OH, AND, DAD, GUESS WHAT’S THE BEST SOUND IN THE WORLD? THE SOUND OF TEETH CRUNCHING INTO A BAGEL! EVER HEAR THAT, DAD? IT’S SO DELICIOUS-SOUNDING! READY, HERE IT IS…”

And then, from halfway around the world, I hear it, clear as a bell, the delicate sound of my son’s front teeth breaking the crust of a toasted bagel. And he’s right, it is delicious-sounding. It’s blessed-sounding. But his quiet, sensual side doesn’t fool me for a minute.

“Good night, hon. And, Jeremy, guess what? I figured out what you’re gonna be when you grow up.”

“WHAT?”

“A wealthy Korean businessman.”

Man’s schemes are inferior to those made by heaven.

Pine. The minty smell of pine needles…

Next afternoon I go back to the discount hotel and find Larry on a chaise in the courtyard, catching some rays. The pleasant scent of piney goodness perfumes the air. In the milky light, Larry’s skin looks like drapery that’s been stored in the back of a closet for years. He’s wearing what looks like a Depression-era bathing suit and his box turtle sunglasses while Mary is giving him a foot rub. I can only imagine the coaxing it’s taken from her to get him to take off his Businessman’s Running Shoes, but now she’s knuckling the tender veal of his insteps while Larry half snores with contentment despite the Peking Opera playing on the portable TV in front of them.

“Pardon me for not getting up,” he says, muting the TV without seeming to move a muscle. “I’m exhausted from yesterday’s dialysis, which was particularly aggressive. Though you should have seen how glad everyone at the clinic was to have me back. Those gift-wrapped Mao manicure sets were a sound investment, turns out.”

Towering over him, Mary is waiting on him hand and foot. “Professor…pillow?” she asks, plumping it behind his back while also clicking the sound on again with her own remote.

“Bless your heart, that’s ever so much better,” he says, using the locutions he picked up from his elderly immigrant parents. He clicks off the sound. She clicks it back on. “So how’re you making out?” he asks me.

“The street sweepers are pretty much in agreement that there are no kidneys to be had, but I still have a few construction workers on the case,” I tell him. “Meanwhile we’re coming down to the wire. If we don’t find something in the next forty-eight hours, it’s Philippines here we come.”

“You’re kidding about the street sweepers, right?”

“Only a little,” I say. “The bushes are being beaten for you, man.”

Click. Counterclick. I still can’t locate the source of that subtle piney scent.

“I’m glad to see that Mary has a mind of her own,” I add.

“Oh, she has a strong spirit,” he says, closing his eyes. “Though I must say I admire the concept more than the execution.”

“So how’s the courtship going?” I ask.

He starts ticking off on his fingertips. “I know she means well, but I generally like a little more conversation with my partners,” he says. “She’s surprisingly guarded about herself. Matter fact, it took me two days to get the weather forecast out of her. Plus, she keeps forcing flower tea on me to enhance my yin. Tell me honestly, Dan, do I strike you as someone who wants his yin enhanced? On the other hand, I can blather and blather and she doesn’t mind. It’s better than being with my therapist.”

“You really have a therapist? When’d you decide they weren’t all narcs out to bust you?”

He doesn’t bother answering me, opening his eyes to squirm upright on the slippery chaise. “In summation, Mary and I have a real rapport,” he says, “though it may be a while before she’s cooking gefilte fish and stuffed cabbage.”

Well, it’s obvious something is making him feel good. He’s smiling more than he has on this entire trip. I can even confirm how many teef he’s lost due to kidney disease. Precisely two.

“She seems to like you well enough,” I note.