Theft by Finding - David Sedaris

Lisa had made it for all of ten minutes before turning on the television in our hotel room. It was
five o’clock in the afternoon and she was lying in bed in her pajamas. “I love Portland,” she said
when I asked what she was doing. “Have you seen this show?”
Having watched so many similar programs in her lifetime, Lisa is able to divine the future. The
killer’s wife tries to talk him down and confesses that she’s pregnant. “That’s true, all right,” Lisa
said. “But it’s not his baby.” Moments later I learned that she was right. The real father was the
killer’s brother.
“They’re going to shoot him the moment he turns that gun over,” Lisa predicted. I was thinking, No
way, the guy’s too good-looking to die. But the moment he handed in his weapon, a bullet came
through the car window and caught him in the neck.
“That always happens,” Lisa said. I thought she might treat the commercials the same way, saying,
“Those stains are going to come right out,” but the ads are too predictable, so she ignores them.
Earlier yesterday morning, after the plane had been sitting on the Minneapolis runway for forty-five
minutes, the pilot announced it would take three and a half hours to fly to Portland. For the first time
since beginning the tour, I honestly didn’t think I could live that long. What made the flight unbearable
was my excitement over seeing Lisa. We landed at two thirty and I found her by the baggage claim,
sitting patiently with her rolling suitcase.
In the afternoon we took a walk through downtown. “Can I ask you something?” Lisa said. “How
often do you and Hugh have sex?” A man on the curb stopped to watch the passing traffic, and I
waited until we were safely across the street to tell her, wondering if this was what other middleaged
brothers and sisters talked about. I answered her, of course, as it would never have occurred to
me not to. We talked about it again later that night while lying in bed.
April 27, 2002
Seattle
I normally try to keep my hotel rooms just so, but within minutes of arriving Lisa had the lamps
blazing and the television on. Things were piled on the coffee table and she was sitting on the sofa
watching a made-for-TV movie while looking over a sheet of algebra problems. She’s taking a math
class at Forsyth Tech and currently holds a 102.7 average. When asked how it could be over 100, she
tapped her pencil against her forehead and said, “Extra credit.”
Lisa’s able to do anything while watching TV. Yesterday morning while I packed to leave, she
caught the last half hour of Matlock. “Isn’t it true,” Andy Griffith asked the defendant, “isn’t it true
that you bought the briefcase and planted it on Coach Williams?”
“Don’t you just love him?” Lisa asked.
May 1, 2002
San Francisco