I owe the writing of this book to so many people. My kind and beautiful husband for his patience and support. My mother for her unfaltering belief in me, as well as her tireless willingness to read multiple drafts. My editor, Jennifer Jackson, who has toured the weirder warehouses of my mind over the course of the last six years—you always know how to say the thing that makes me see the book anew. My agent, Molly Friedrich, who is so wise, and who bore the brunt of my self-doubt more gracefully than I may have deserved. You are truly, sublimely kind on top of all the other things you are. I owe Lucy Carson, who makes me cry with the depth of her insight, and Kent Wolf, who makes me laugh with the depth of his. I owe Zakiya Harris and Heather Carr, both of whom keep the whole machine going and who are willing to explain things to me when I am being obtuse. I owe Decio Rangel, Jr., Esq., for his free and extremely jovial legal advice, and I owe the Airport Courthouse for putting up with my loitering and spying. Many thanks for all the medical advice and perverted dance moves of Dr. Bill Winter. I owe my salmon salad writers’ group, who have buoyed me up and known when to knock me down. I am in debt to the kindness and editorial advice of Jeff Zentner and Kerry Kletter. I owe my copy editor, Annette Szlachta-McGinn; Maris Dyer; and my amazing publicist, Emily Reardon. I couldn’t have written the book, done the work of the writing, without any of these beautiful people.
But then there are the ones who taught me the lessons in life that made it possible to write the book at all. Who taught me what friendship is, who taught me regret and heartbreak and love. This is a book, like so much that I write, about friendship, and I can’t help but think about all the friends I have been lucky enough to have in my life. Simone Gorrindo, you are the best friend anyone could ever dream of, my first map of the world, and I am so proud just to know you. I can’t imagine Jason Arold, Annie Bassett, Reina Shibata, Margaret Aiken, Sean Kazerian, Josey Duncan, or any of 9C will be able to read this book without seeing flashes of the way we used to spend our time, gloriously, masterfully wasting it. Here is to the stupid adventures, the passions of platonic love, the water bottles of vodka, the things we didn’t understand yet, and all the things we knew too well. You have made my life so beautiful, and I fall on my knees in gratitude.