Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

another set into his daybooks, so they'd always be with him, in case something happened at home.
    Our marriage was not unhappy, Oskar. He knew how to make me laugh. And sometimes I made him laugh. We had to make rules, but who doesn't. There is nothing wrong with compromising. Even if you compromise almost everything.
    He got a job at a jewelry store, because he knew the machines. He worked so hard that they made him assistant manager, and then manager. He did not care about jewelry. He hated it. He used to say jewelry is the opposite of sculpture.
    But it was a living, and he promised me that was OK.
    We got our own store in a neighborhood that was next to a bad neighborhood. It was open from eleven in the morning until six at night.
    But there was always work to be done.
    We spent our lives making livings.
    Sometimes he would go to the airport after work. I asked him to get me papers and magazines. At first this was because I wanted to learn American expressions. But I gave up on that. I still asked him to go. I knew that he needed my permission to go. It was not out of kindness that I sent him.
    We tried so hard. We were always trying to help each other. But not because we were helpless. He needed to get things for me, just as I needed to get things for him. It gave us purpose. Sometimes I would ask him for something that I did not even want, just to let him get it for me. We spent our days trying to help each other help each other. I would get his slippers. He would make my tea. I would turn up the heat so he could turn up the air conditioner so I could turn up the heat. His hands didn't lose their roughness.
    It was Halloween. Our first in the apartment. The doorbell rang. Your grandfather was at the airport. I opened the door and a child was standing there in a white sheet with holes cut out for her eyes. Trick or treat! she said. I took a step back.
    Who is that?
    I'm a ghost!
    What are you wearing that for?
    It's Halloween!
    I don't know what that means.
    Kids dress up and knock on doors, and you give them candy.
    I don't have any candy.
    It's Hal-lo-ween!
    I told her to wait. I went to the bedroom. I took an envelope from underneath the mattress. Our savings. Our living. I took out two one-hundred-dollar bills and put them in a different envelope, which I gave to the ghost.
    I was paying her to go away.
    I closed the door and turned off the lights so no more children would ring our bell.
    The animals must have understood, because they surrounded me and pressed into me. I did not say anything when your grandfather came home that night. I thanked him for the papers and magazines. I went to the guest room and pretended to write. I hit the space bar again and again and again. My life story was spaces.
    The days passed one at a time. And sometimes less than one at a time. We looked at each other and drew maps in our heads. I told him my eyes were crummy, because I wanted him to pay attention to me. We made safe places in the apartment where you could go and not exist.
    I would have done anything for him. Maybe that was my sickness.
    We made love in nothing places and turned the lights off. It felt like crying. We could not look at each other. It always had to be from behind. Like that first time. And I knew that he wasn't thinking of me.
    He squeezed my sides so hard, and pushed so hard. Like he was trying to push through me to somewhere else.
    Why does anyone ever make love?
    A year passed. Another year. Another year. Another.
    We made livings.
    I never forgot about the ghost.
    I needed a child.
    What does it mean to need a child?
    One morning I awoke and understood the hole in the middle of me.
    I realized that I could compromise my life, but not life after me.
    I couldn't explain it. The need came before explanations.
    It was not out of weakness that I made it happen, but it was not out of strength either. It was out of need. I needed a child.
    I tried to hide it from him. I tried to wait to tell him until it was too late to do anything about it. It was the ultimate secret. Life. I kept it safe inside me. I took it around. Like the apartment was inside his books. I wore loose shirts. I sat with pillows on my lap. I was naked only in nothing places.
    But I could not keep it a secret forever.
    We were lying in bed in the darkness. I did not know how to say it. I knew, but I could not say it. I took one of his daybooks from the bedside table.
    The apartment had never been darker.
    I turned on the lamp.
    It became