The Vacationers: A Novel (27 page)

BOOK: The Vacationers: A Novel
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Jim was arranging himself for the long flight—his reading glasses were already on, and he had one book in his lap and another in the seat pocket in front of them. There would be a
folded-up crossword puzzle somewhere, and a pen. The skin around his eye was now a pale shade of green, the color of a peridot, his birthstone. It got lighter every day, and soon would be gone entirely.

The engines rumbled and the plane began to glide forward on the runway. The people with the orange vests and pointers had all backed safely away, on to their next departure. Franny wove her fingers through Jim’s, and held the entire knot in her lap. He leaned forward to stare out the window at the receding airport and the well-tended expanse of the runway. There were mountains on their left, and he pointed to them. The airplane turned onto the straightaway, and the noise from its body increased. As they began to pick up speed, Franny closed her eyes and rested her cheek on Jim’s shoulder. She felt it in her stomach when the wheels left the ground, the sudden suspension of disbelief that this, too, would work just as it should. She lifted her chin so that it was closer to her husband’s ear, and over the roaring of the plane, Franny said, “We made it, Jim.” There was nothing in life harder or more important than agreeing every morning to stay the course, to go back to your forgotten self of so many years ago, and to make the same decision. Marriages, like ships, needed steering, and steady hands at the wheel. Franny wrapped both of her arms around Jim’s right one, her grip firm and ready for any turbulence ahead.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Valli Shaio Kohon and Gregorio Kohon for their Mallorcan generosity, and to Olga Ortiz for her Mallorcan brain. Thank you to the Hotel Gran Son Net in Puigpunyent for heating their bathroom floors.

Thank you to Rumaan Alam, Maggie Delgado, Ben Turley, Lorrie Moore, Meg Wolitzer, and Stephin Merritt for their help with language and logistics. Thank you to Christine Onorati and WORD, Mary Gannett and BookCourt, Julia Fierro and the Sackett Street Writers’ Workshop, Noreen Tomassi and the Center for Fiction, the 92nd Street Y, Vanderbilt University, and
Rookie
for their love and employment.

Thank you to Jenni Ferrari-Adler, Stuart Nadler, and my darling husband for being such smart readers. Thank you to my family: the Straubs, the Royals, and the small but mighty Fusco-Straubs.

Thank you, as always, to everyone at Riverhead Books, especially the indomitable Megan Lynch, Geoff Kloske, Claire McGinnis, Ali Cardia, and Jynne Martin.

And thank you most of all to my son, the patient traveler, for waiting until I was done to be
born.

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