EPILOGUE
The flight from China was full of families and it took a long time to deplane. Then there was an endless line at Customs and the teenager in front of them couldn’t find his passport. Finally they were headed down the long corridor to Arrivals. Moms and dads and husbands and wives at the end of the hall were exclaiming and hugging. As they walked he wiped his face with his hand and smoothed his hair down. She looked at him nervously.
“Are we late?”
“We’re a little late. It’s okay.”
“What if she hates me?”
“Not possible.”
“What should I call her? Ms. Glickman?”
“Just call her Cheryl.”
“Is that her? That woman waving?”
“Where?”
“Down at the very end. With the blond lady. See?”
“Oh. Yeah. She looks old. Clee came too, that’s Clee.”
“She’s so happy to see you—oh, she’s running.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s pretty far.”
“We could meet her halfway—should we run?”
“Really? I have my bag. How about you just run and I’ll catch up?”
“No, no. We can walk.”
“It’s just—my bag. Oh wow. She’s really gonna run the whole way.”
“Yeah.”
“Just go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, give me your bag. I’ll catch up with you. Go.”
He ran toward her and she ran toward him and as they got closer they both started to laugh. They were laughing and laughing and running and running and running and music played, brass instruments, a soaring anthem, not a dry eye in the house, the credits rolled. Applause like rain.
Read another gorgeous and revelatory memoir by acclaimed author and Academy Award-winning actress Anjelica Huston currently available from Scribner
“These delightful stories do that essential-but-rare story thing: they surprise. They skip past the quotidian, the merely real, to the essential, and do so with a spirit of tenderness and wonder that is wholly unique. They are (let me coin a phrase) July-esque, which is to say: infused with wonder at the things of the world.” —George Saunders, author of Tenth of December
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would to thank Melissa Joan Walker, Rachel Khong, Sheila Heti, Jason Carder, Lucy Reynell, Lena Dunham, and Margaux Williamson for reading versions of this book and reacting so honestly. A particular thank you to Eli Horowitz, who read many drafts and was profoundly helpful. Thank you to Megan and Mark Ace for the family name Clee, to Khaela Maricich for sending Bowie’s song “Kooks,” and to my father, Richard Grossinger, for permission to excerpt his book, Embryogenesis. Thank you to Michele Rabkin for talking to me about adoption and Alok Bhutada for answering questions about meconium aspiration. Thank you to Jessica Graham, Erin Sheehan, and Sarah Kramer for taking such good care of my son while I wrote. Thank you to my agent, Sarah Chalfant, for saying “you will have a baby AND you will write a novel” and many other boldly inspiring truths. Thank you to Nan Graham for her staunch, unwavering support of my winding path and masterful feedback. Lastly, thank you Mike Mills, to whom this book is dedicated. Your love and bravery and willingness to tangle see me through every single day.