Phantom Limbs (34 page)

I yanked the car door open, which took some force because of the dent. I suspected this was one of the things Dara liked about the car: the damage. But damaged doesn’t necessarily mean broken.

I closed the door and sat, staring at Meg’s note. How had this even happened? How? I thought about the sonnet, trying to figure out how Dara had done that. And then I remembered: I’d put that sonnet in my swim bag. I’d left my swim bag in Dara’s car. A + B = this. All this.

I started up the car and put all the windows down, thinking about my last conversation with Dara, right before I tore out of Michigan. I guess my house wasn’t her only errand on what was meant to be her final to-do list.

It was a lot, realizing how she had wanted to set things right. How she had wanted to give me in death what she couldn’t in life: Freedom. Happiness. A glimpse of how much she loved me. I had underestimated her so many times, in so many ways. It hurt. But I knew her better now. She was a wonder. And she broke my fucking heart. Which was already broken a million ways to Tuesday, but . . . hearts can break a lot. That is a thing I know.

But broken doesn’t necessarily mean damaged.

As I put the car into gear, a crescendo of chirps filled the air. I turned my head to the sound, and a million little birds launched skyward from the hedges in a flurry of bright yellow. I watched them disappear into the sky, then eased out of the lot and made my way to Highway 43, headed straight for the Extended Stay. My navigation lady was
always
set to Meg.

There were no guarantees for Meg and me. I knew that. But I was hopeful. Hopeful we’d endure. Hopeful that next May, when the magnolia bloomed again, it would find us together. But even that couldn’t be the perfect, sepia-toned image I’d always held in my mind. Because
we
weren’t the same. We were battered and dinged, both well past the weight limit in personal baggage. And, like the rest of humanity, it would be our destiny to be tossed and torn by events unseen and unplanned.

But that didn’t stop me from hoping we could somehow navigate it together.

Long odds, I realized. But holding on always was my strong suit.

There are so many people who made their mark on this book, and I owe them more thanks and recognition than I can even begin to express.

Zach. My swimmer, my eater, my brilliant boy. It is thanks to you more than anyone else that this novel made it to this day. Your unflagging love, devotion, and encouragement over the years kept me from ever giving up. No matter how many times I had doubts, you never did. Thank you for your steadfast support and love — and for all the ways you made sure I wasn’t screwing up the swimming parts too badly. You are a phenomenal person, and I am so glad you’re mine.

Gabe, my other sweet and brilliant son. Thank you for enduring the years I told you that you weren’t old enough for this book — and then for loving it when I finally let you read it. Since then you have helped me make countless decisions and have lent your own particular brand of savvy to everything, and I am kind of glad in the end that this process took long enough that both you and Zach were a part of it. I adore you, but who doesn’t? Go clean your room.

Thanks also are due to the lovely Mia Drelich for quick and helpful answers when I messaged with a question during writing. Mia, you are the ultimate teen consultant — bright and funny and sweet — and you never let me down. Thank you for your cheerful and reliable willingness to help.

A great debt of gratitude goes to Noah, my husband, for his limitless support and patience during all the years I’ve worked on novel writing. Thank you for never once suggesting I maybe get a paying job, and thank you for not complaining about a lot of pizza delivery for dinner when I was in the thick of things. Your belief in me made everything possible, and I will always be grateful for it.

Endless thanks go to Audrey Coulthurst, my unfathomably amazing critique partner, my all-things-bitter disciple, my salmiak sister, my dolty and devoted friend. Aud, you are the greatest CP a writer could ever hope for; I would never want to do any of this without you. Thank you for reading my work so carefully, for keeping me sane and calm, for doing confusing tech things for me, and for making sure I don’t screw things up (and fixing them when I do). From tracking my novel timelines to helping me problem-solve to keeping me from getting fired on forums, you have been impossibly generous and wonderful to me, and being your CP for your gorgeous novel has been a privilege. Plus, your deranged sense of humor is the source of boundless hilarity — you are ridiculously fun and you make me laugh like no one else. TL;DR: I’m keeping you.

Enormous gratitude goes to Rafe Posey, my incomparable critique partner, my twin anachronism, my museum of favorite things, and the person who understands without explanation everything I think/say/feel/do. Pet, you are a wonder and a treasure, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Thank you for all the grand adventures, for all the places and nouns, for all the things you have shown me and taught me — things I always wanted to know and things I never knew I wanted to know. Your nerdy and pedantic proclivities have come to the rescue time and time again in my work, and your love for this novel was a constant source of reassurance. It is an honor to be your critique partner, and reading your beautiful writing is one of my greatest joys. You amaze me every day. NOW GO DO SOME WORK OMG SO POKEY.

To Kaylan, my wise, devoted, insightful editor: I wish every writer could at least once have an experience like the one I’ve had with you. The level of thoughtfulness and care you brought to this book completely blew me away. This process with you was such a privilege, and I am so pleased with the ways you helped me shape this book into what it is today. You knew when to defer and when to push, when to make suggestions and when to leave me to it, and you were always, always there to answer questions or offer help. Your contribution meant everything to me, and I am so grateful to have you in my corner.

Thanks also to the incredible team at Candlewick — Matt Roeser, Nathan Pyritz, Maggie Deslaurier, Erin DeWitt, Susan Batcheller, Tracy Miracle, Elise Supovitz, and many others whose names I may not know. I am honored by your support and your thoughtful and beautiful work on this book.

Many thanks to my agent, Molly Jaffa. You are my favorite study in contrasts: sweet yet fierce, hilarious yet serious, encouraging yet ass-kicking. Your belief in this novel and your sure hand with decisions along the way were always reassuring and calming. I wouldn’t trade your knowledge, guidance, and hand-holding on this journey for anything.

Thanks go to Bonnie Blackburn and Leofranc Holford-Strevens for ongoing thoughtfulness and generosity in fielding questions no one else I know could possibly have answered.

To my many amazing beta readers and writer friends, thank you endlessly for your help, support, and friendship. There are too many to name you all, but I would be remiss not to mention Marieke Nijkamp, Helen Wiley, Susan Bickford, Rachel Solomon, Jessica Bayliss, and Brian Katcher, whose thoughtful reading and feedback were enormously helpful in guiding this process.

A big thank-you to Tena Russ, my beautiful ogre, for the high bar you set (and for the pleasure of reading your lovely pages).

Much appreciation goes to Jessica Golub, who fielded questions along the way and always offered helpful insights and suggestions. (Thank you also to Lauren, who was gloriously impatient to read this book. Finally, right?)

For a variety of reasons, special thanks go to: Elissa Whiteman, Harriet Heifetz, Adelle Katz, Sybil Ward, Lindsey Sprague, Brenda Drake, Katie Locke, Dahlia Adler, Rachel Simon, and Mark O’Brien.

Special thanks to Ashley Herring Blake, Karen Hattrup, Emily Henry, Kerry Kletter, Kali Wallace, and Jeff Zentner for your early reads and overwhelming responses. Your generosity means the world to me.

To all my fellow Sweet Sixteeners and 2k16ers, thank you for the pleasure of your company and friendship on this ride. It has been a privilege to feel your support and to cheer you on in return.

And finally, a sheepish thank-you to Otis Heymann. I stole your name for this book in 2008 when I first saw you at a swim meet and there were girls fawning over how cute you were. I hope you don’t mind.