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276 pages, Hardcover
First published February 23, 2016
I stopped talking after my dad died, I wrote, then prepared myself for the usual things people said after I told them that.
“What a remarkably asinine thing to do.”
That was not one of the usual things.
He was just your average teenager. Or a little above average, actually…A solid seven out of ten. Maybe a B/B+ on a good day, in the right light, taking the most forgiving possible position on his too-thick eyebrows and his weirdly prominent dimples when he smiled and his slight butt chin . . .
Fuck me. This is turning into a disaster, isn’t it?
I mean, some things are obviously shitty, and some things are obviously nice or noble or whatever, but between the two goalposts of black and white, between punching a baby in the kidney and donating a kidney to save a baby, there’s a freaking football field’s worth of gray area.He’s hanging out in a hotel lobby, waiting for something to steal, when he sees her. She’s about his age, pretty, has a large wad of cash, silver hair, and wears a look of perfect sadness on her face.
People usually use that word – “perfect” – to talk about good things; a perfect score on a test, or a perfect attendance record, or landing a perfect 1080. But I think it’s a way better word when it’s used to describe something – even a totally shitty something – that’s exactly the thing it’s supposed to be. Perfect morning breath. A perfect hangover. Perfect sadness.He doesn’t speak. Can’t speak. He sees a psychologist regularly and had one session with a speech therapist, but he just can’t make the words come out. He can’t even moan or make noise when he laughs. So he writes everything in a journal. He has 104 completed journals at home, like a record of where he’s been and thoughts he’s had.
I stopped talking after my dad died, I wrote, then prepared myself for the usual things people said after I told them that.Zelda tells him that she’s waiting for a call, and once it comes she’s going to give all her money to the next needy person she sees and jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. She doesn’t say this on a whim; she’s given it a lot of thought. She means to go through with it.
“What a remarkably asinine thing to do.”
This was not the usual things.
There’s a word in Portuguese that my dad wrote about in one of his books: saudade. It’s the sadness you feel for something that isn’t gone yet, but will be. The sadness of lost causes. The sadness of being alive.Thus begins his mission to teach her that there are so many things to live for, his mission to change her mind. But how can you convince someone who thinks they’ve lived for hundreds of years that they haven’t seen everything.


“It was like some kind of crazy dream, the sight of all those people emerging from their disguises, shedding the fake muscles and the plastic armor, the fairy wings and angel wings and devil horns, all of it piled up like a mass grave for make-believe, and I wondered if maybe this was a way for Zelda to show me something true.”
"But I think life is a little like one of those special memory foam mattresses that they advertise on TV, where you can drop a bowling ball on one side and the person sleeping a few inches away doesn't feel a thing. Our biggest tragedies are still just ours."
"'We may get a job and a husband and a house, but the whole adulthood thing is just a charade. We're all pretending to have grown up. You know what the cruelest object ever invented is?' I shook my head. 'The mirror. It breaks the illusion.'"