He kisses my head. "Then you can't live in Bali, darling."

The next morning, I hatch my plan. I can't believe it—here I am, after a year of studying virtues and struggling to find an honest life for myself, about to spin a big fat lie. I'm about to lie to my favorite person in Bali, to someone who is like a sister to me, someone who has cleaned my kidneys. For heaven's sake, I'm going to lie to Tutti's mommy!

I walk into town, into Wayan's shop. Wayan goes to hug me. I pull away, pretending to be upset.

"Wayan," I say. "We need to talk. I have a serious problem." "With Felipe?"

"No. With you."

She looks like she's going to faint.

"Wayan," I say. "My friends in America are very angry with you."

"With me? Why, honey?"

"Because four months ago, they gave you a lot of money to buy a home, and you did not buy a home yet. Every day, they send me e-mails, asking me, ‘Where is Wayan's house? Where is my money?' Now they think you are stealing their money, using it for something else."

"I'm not stealing!"

"Wayan," I say. "My friends in America think you are . . . a bullshit."

She gasps as if she's been punched in the windpipe. She looks so wounded, I waver for a moment and almost grab her in a reassuring hug and say, "No, no, it's not true! I'm making this up!" But, no, I have to finish this. But, Lord, she is clearly staggered now. Bullshit is a word that has been more emotionally incorporated into Balinese than almost any other in the English language. It's one of the very worst things you can call someone in Bali—"a bullshit." In this culture, where people bullshit each other a dozen times before breakfast, where bullshitting is a sport, an art, a habit, and a desperate survival tactic, to actually call someone out on their bullshit is an appalling statement. It's something that would have, in old Europe, guaranteed you a duel.

"Honey," she said, eyes tearing. "I am not a bullshit!"

"I know that, Wayan. This is why I'm so upset. I try to tell my friends in America that Wayan is not a bullshit, but they don't believe me."

She lays her hand on mine. "I'm sorry to put you in a pickle, honey."

"Wayan, this is a very big pickle. My friends are angry. They say that you must buy some land before I come back to America. They told me that if you don't buy some land in the next week, then I must . . . take the money back."

他亲吻我的头。"那你不能在巴厘岛生活，甜心。"

隔天早上，我想好计划。我真不敢相信——一整年学习美德、努力为自己追求诚实的生活之后，我即将吐出一个天大的谎言。我即将跟我在巴厘岛最喜爱的人撒谎，而她就像我的姐妹，还曾经为我清洗肾脏。老天，我将要对图蒂的妈咪撒谎！

我走去镇上，走进大姐的店。大姐前来拥抱我。我挪开身子，假装烦恼。

"大姐，"我说，"我们得谈谈。我出了严重问题。"和斐利贝之间？"

"不是，是和你之间。"

她看起来像要晕倒。

"大姐，"我说，"我在美国的朋友们非常气你。

"气我？为什么，亲爱的？"

"因为四个月前，他们给你一大笔钱买房，你却还没有买。他们每天寄电子邮件给我，问我："大姐的房子怎么了？我的钱呢？"他们现在认为你偷他们的钱用做别的用途。"

"我没偷钱！"

"大姐，"我说，"我在美国的朋友认为你在……扯屁。"

她倒抽一口气，仿佛气管挨了揍。她看起来非常受伤，我迟疑片刻，几乎想搂住她，安慰她说："不，不，这不是真话！都是我捏造的！"但是不行，我得演完。但是老天，她现在显得十分震惊。大概没有哪个英语用词比"扯屁"在感情上更融入巴厘语当中。在巴厘岛说某人"扯屁"是一件很坏的事。在这个社会，早餐前大家都对彼此扯好几十次屁，扯屁在这儿被视为娱乐、艺术、极端的生存法则，然而指出某人在扯屁却是一种骇人的表达方式。在古欧洲包管会挑起一场决斗。

"亲爱的，"她泪水汪汪地说，"我没扯屁！"

"这我知道，大姐。所以我才这么烦恼。我想告诉美国的朋友，大姐不是扯屁的人，但他们不相信我。"

她将手放在我手上。"我很抱歉让你为难，亲爱的。"

"这真的很为难。我的朋友们非常生气。他们说你必须在我回美国之前把地买成。他们说，如果下礼拜你不买地，我就得……把钱取回来。"