Sam was put off by Sadie’s laughter. He asked her what was funny. She was confused for a moment—hadn’t he wanted her to laugh?—and then she said, annoyed, “You get that this is a story about you, right? That’s why you lost your mind at a dog park. You’re Tuesday. You’re the incredibly special dog that no one can classify.” It was not long after their huge argument, and things were quite strained between them.
Sam told her that she was being reductive, and that her interpretation was insulting to both him and the dog. “It’s a story about Tuesday,” he insisted. “Maybe it’s a story about L.A., too. Maybe it’s a story about the kind of people that go to the dog park in Silver Lake. But it’s mainly a story about Tuesday.”
“The text,” she said, “perhaps.”
* * *
—
When he knew he would be out late, Sam left Tuesday with his grandparents. It was after 1 a.m. when he got to their house, but Sam knew Dong Hyun would just be getting home from the pizza place anyway. He let himself into their house, and Tuesday greeted him, soft and warm, and then Dong Hyun trailed behind her, still smelling of garlic, peppery red sauce, olive oil, and dough.
“I thought you’d be out all night,” Dong Hyun said.
“It’s over,” Sam said. “Nothing for me to do now. They’ll call me if they need me.”
“Are you okay?” Dong Hyun asked.
“I’ve been better.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dong Hyun’s kind, old face looking at him was almost more than he could bear.
“No.” Sam picked up Tuesday and put her on his lap. He realized he was crying when the dog started licking the salt off his face.
“What is it?” Dong Hyun asked.
“I love Sadie Green,” Sam said helplessly. He felt childish saying this, but there it was.
“I know,” Dong Hyun said. “She loves you, too.”
“No, she loves someone else.”
“Maybe it won’t last.”
“It’s Marx. And I think it’s pretty serious, and I don’t know what to do. Sadie and I had a fight about a year ago, but I always thought it would come around eventually.”
Dong Hyun put his strong, dough-throwing arms around Sam. “You’ll find someone else to love.”
“Please don’t say there are a lot of fish in the sea.”
“I wasn’t planning on it, but now that you mention it, there are. What about Lola?”
“She’s nice, but she’s no Sadie. I don’t feel like anyone in the world knows me except Sadie.”
“Maybe you need to let more people know you.”
“Maybe.”
“Sam, when your grandmother and I first opened the restaurant, did you know it was a Korean place?”
Sam shook his head.
“But there were too many Korean places in K-town, so we had to come up with something else. And that’s why we decided to make pizza. There weren’t any other pizza places in that part of K-town. It was scary, at first, because we didn’t know anything about pizza, but then we set ourselves to learning about pizza. We didn’t have any choice. We had two babies and bills to pay.
“Your cousin Albert told me that, in business, they call this a pivot. But life is filled with them, too. The most successful people are also the most able to change their mindsets. You may not ever have a romantic relationship with Sadie, but you two will be friends for the rest of your lives, and that is something of equal or greater value, if you choose to see it that way.”
“I am familiar with the concept of the pivot,” Sam said, “though I don’t think it technically applies here.” He laughed gently; Dong Hyun was often regaling Sam with Albert’s business school curriculum.
But the unapt metaphor made him feel a little better, nonetheless. Sam could see that Marx had left him a message on his phone—he was needed, the Mapleworld team had questions. Sam kissed Dong Hyun on the cheek, and he and Tuesday got in the car to drive back to Abbot Kinney.
They were about a tenth of a mile from the freeway entrance on Rampart when Sam spotted a curious turnoff, near Filipinotown. It was the peculiar 2:30 a.m. light that enabled him to spot it—a broad, flat, dirt road, partially concealed by a flowerless jacaranda tree. As he drove closer, he noted that the road did not have a named street sign, but a dark green hexagon whose lone markings were a group of three dots in a triangle shape:
In a mathematical proof, this mark indicated “therefore,” but Sam didn’t know what it meant on a road sign. He’d never seen a sign like it before. He stopped the car, so he could look down the road. There was no definitive vanishing point. The road seemingly led to nowhere. Alternatively, the road could lead to somewhere. He could end up dead, or he could end up in Beverly Hills. （Though it was rarely so binary, was it? Most of the time, when Sam pursued an unnamed road, it was a U-turn, and then back to where he’d started from.） “Should we try it?” Sam asked Tuesday. The little dog snored in the back seat and offered no opinion. Sam flipped on his turn signal.
VI
MARRIAGES
1
Sam’s avatar, Mayor Mazer, was the first person who greeted a new visitor to Mapletown. He was styled like a grunge-era rock star—ripped blue jeans, a red plaid shirt, Doc Martens—and meant to evoke plainspoken, folksy icons like Jiminy Cricket, Andy Griffith, Woody Guthrie. Sam didn’t use a cane anymore, but he gave Mayor Mazer a cane—a gnarled wooden staff—and Mayor Mazer had also been programmed to have Sam’s slight limp. The Samatar had Sam’s glasses （thick, black frames） and mustache （chevron shaped）。 No one remembered whether Mayor Mazer or Sam had grown the mustache first.
“Welcome, friend, I’m Mayor Mazer,” the Samatar introduced himself. “You must be new here. We’ve got our problems like everywhere else, but Mapletown’s a fine little burg, once you get to know it. I’ve lived here my whole life, I should know. Moving is hard. Here’s five thousand Maplebucks to get you started. My advice to you would be to walk around. The foliage in the Magical Valley is beautiful this time of year. And our shopping district is small for now, but you’ll find most anything you need there. I’m fond of our artisanal cheeses. Greet a couple of your new neighbors while you’re moseying about. It’s truffle season, so keep your eyes out. The super-rare rainbow truffle fetches a high price if you can manage to get your hands on one. Everyone’s real friendly here. If you run into any problems, come back and see me. You can always find me at Mapletown City Hall.”
By 2009, Mayor Mazer ranked number seven （in between the Serta Counting Sheep and the Coca-Cola polar bears） on an AdWeek list of most recognizable branded characters of the new millennium. The description of Mayor Mazer read: “We debated about whether to add Mayor Mazer to this list. A cross between game character and branded character, the little hipster mayor of the little hipster town （Portland? Silver Lake? Park Slope? Where the hell is Mapletown anyway?） ultimately makes the list because he’s been on about a million Etsy products, and isn’t he the mayor everyone wishes they had? Guns are verboten; socialism rules; gameplay rewards conservation （try chopping down too many maple trees without replanting）; same-sex marriage was legal in M-town way before it was in the U.S. Mapletown is probably the first MMORPG your mom played, and that’s thanks in large part to the branding of Mayor Mazer. He’s friendly, he’s hip, he knows the best places to buy pottery in Mapletown and how to get that fiddle leaf fig tree to grow in your living room. Sure, he’s mining your data like everyone else, but he’s one of the good guys, right? Love him or hate him, there are very few characters or brands that have become more associated with a utopian vision of Americans online than Mayor Mazer.”