Authors: Augusten Burroughs
Christopher was watching me, I could feel it.
I changed my position on the bed so that I was kneeling and facing him. “I think maybe you've forgotten that you're actually still my literary agent. You work for me.”
He snorted.
I went on. “I'm an extremely famous and popular person. I've been in movies and starred in an instant breakfast drink commercial. I could have been a child model, and I'm also a direct descendant of King James II of Scotland. All of which, I might add, reflects luminously well on you.”
Laughing harder, he sounded like wheezy Muttley, the cartoon dog.
I informed him, “You'll die before me if I go ahead and say you're free to do so.”
Then I picked up his laptop and dropped it onto his bedside table. I slid on top of him so that I was straddling his legs. I leaned in so that my face was mere inches from his.
I growled, “You are a ridiculous little man. Willful and short and hairy and old.”
His eyes were sprinkled with tears, but from cracking up.
Because he did now belong to meâI earned him; I won himâand because I had memorized his every inch and knew exactly where on his left ear to place my lips and whisper, the laughter stopped at once, the circuit interrupted.
I steered my lips across his jawline and to his mouth. I kissed him. These were open-mouth kisses, young people's kisses, hungry and full at the same time, in love, at home.
I pulled back from his lips far enough to whisper, “You are my disease piñata, my Death Star, my everything.”
He pulled me to him, his powerful legs, like a wrestler's, flexing beneath me. “And you,” he said, “are my catastrophist.”
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
We were walking along the Battery Park City esplanade beside the riverfront, and the dogs were straining against their leashes. There were so many stars. Which you just don't expect to ever see in Manhattan.
I said to Christopher, “Do you realize that when you look at something through an electron microscope and then you look out into the distant galaxy through a telescope, it looks the same? You can't even tell if you're looking at something tiny or something huge.”
He nodded like,
That's nice
.
I smirked. “You don't give a shit about that stuff, do you?” I said.
He laughed. “No, not really.”
The dogs paused to sniff the fascinating roots of the same tree.
I said, “Okay, in that case, what was A Flock of Seagulls' biggest hit?”
Christopher beamed at me as the wind blew into our faces from the river. His eyes glittered, and he replied without pausing to think about it, faster than Google, as though he'd been expecting this question all his life.
“âI Ran.'”
I placed my hand against the side of his precious, electric face and felt the stubble beneath my fingers. I was overwhelmed with the lust and wonder of it all.
Â
My plan had been to write a novel, not another memoir. I actually wrote
two
novels, and I didn't love themâmy heart just wasn't in the writing. Then my friend Liz Stein made a suggestion that changed everything. “Why don't you write about what happened after
Dry
?” Her husband, Luke Dempsey, immediately agreed. I realized this was exactly what I wanted to write, and that's important:
I wanted to write
. Somehow, with their fresh insight, words of encouragement, and wonderful friendship, Liz and Luke have nurtured and inspired me, and I am deeply grateful.
I am also grateful to Kate Mulgrew, whose generosity, friendship, and amazing home cooking have been such blessings. Taylor Schilling came into my life at exactly the right moment, all 20,000 watts of her, full of life and intelligence and vulnerability; she has become utterly priceless to me. Anne Bobby has been both a loyal friend and a spectacular source of entertainment through her gorgeous voice, and I am so lucky to know her. My beautiful, brilliant cousins, Leigh and Meridith, remind me constantly of the importance of family, as does my wonderful family-in-law.
A lot happened while I was writing this book; my life was transformed, and I met so many inspiring and substantive people who brought me joy, including Hilary Old, Eileen Fisher, and Portia de Rossi. I also want to thank my buddies Seamus Mulcare and Jack Abramoff for making me laugh. My remarkable and supportive editor, Jennifer Enderlin, and all the good people at St. Martin's Press have been with me from the beginning. During the writing process, one of my earliest St. Martin's supporters and longtime friends passed away, so this book is presented in the memory of Matthew Shear.
Lastly, I must thank Allan R. Pearlman for keeping me out of jail.
Â
Augusten Burroughs
is the #1
New York Times
bestselling author of
This Is How, A Wolf at the Table, You Better Not Cry, Possible Side Effects, Magical Thinking, Dry, Running with Scissors,
and
Sellevision
. He lives in New York City. You can sign up for email updates
here
.
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Also by
Augusten Burroughs
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Contents
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The names and identifying characteristics of some people have been changed.
LUST AND WONDER.
Copyright © 2016 by Augusten Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
A portion of Part III first appeared in the “Modern Love” column of
The New York Times
on May 23, 2013.
Cover design by Olga Grlic
Hand-lettering by James Iacobelli
Cover photographs: matchbox © Africa Studio / Shutterstock; spine texture © Sakda Tiew / Shutterstock; back cover texture © Route66 / Shutterstock
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-312-34203-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-10103-7 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-1-250-09168-0 (limited edition)
ISBN 978-1-250-08236-7 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781250082367
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at
[email protected]
.
First U.S. Edition: March 2016
First International Edition: March 2016