Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

I asked. “I don't know.” “Ask her.” “Ask who?” “Let's go back and ask the woman who's living there now. I bet she knows if Agnes had any kids.” He didn't ask me why that question was important, or tell me she already told us everything she knew. We walked back three blocks, and I went up the stairs and brought her wheelchair back to the stairwell, and they talked up and down the stairs for a while. Then Mr. Black hollered, “She didn't!” But I wondered if he was lying to me, because even though I don't speak Spanish, I could hear that she said a lot more than just no.
    As we were walking back to the subway, I had a revelation, and then I got angry. “Wait a minute,” I said. “What were you cracking up about before?” “Before?” “When you were talking to that woman the first time, you were cracking up. Both of you.” “I don't know,” he said. “You don't know?” “I don't remember.” “Try to remember.” He thought for a minute. “I can't remember.” Lie #77.
    We bought some tamales that a woman was selling by the subway from a huge pot in a grocery cart. Normally I don't like food that isn't individually wrapped or prepared by Mom, but we sat on the curb and ate our tamales. Mr. Black said, “If anything, I'm invigorated.” “What's 'invigorated'?” “Energized. Refreshed.” “I'm invigorated, too.” He put his arm around me and said, “Good.” “These are vegan, right?” I shook my tambourine as we walked up the stairs to the subway, and held my breath when the train went underground.
    Albert Black came from Montana. He wanted to be an actor, but he didn't want to go to California, because it was too close to home, and the whole point of being an actor was to be someone else.
    Alice Black was incredibly nervous, because she lived in a building that was supposed to be for industrial purposes, so people weren't supposed to live there. Before she opened the door, she made us promise that we weren't from the Housing Authority. I said, “I suggest you take a look at us through the peephole.” She did, and then she said, “Oh, you,” which I thought was weird, and she let us in. Her hands were covered with charcoal, and I saw drawings everywhere, and they were all of the same man. “Are you forty?” “I'm twenty-one.” “I'm nine.” “I'm one hundred and three.” I asked her if she was the one who made the drawings. “Yes.” “All of them?” “Yes.” I didn't ask who the man in the drawings was, because I was afraid the answer would give me heavy boots. You wouldn't draw someone that much unless you loved him and missed him. I told her, “You're extremely beautiful.” “Thanks.” “Can we kiss?” Mr. Black stuck his elbow in my side and asked her, “Do you know anything about this key?”
    Dear Oskar Schell,
    I am responding on behalf of Dr. Kaley, who is currently in the Congo on a research expedition. She asked that I pass on her appreciation for your enthusiasm about her work with elephants. Given that I am already her assistant—and budget limitations being what they are, as I'm sure you've experienced—she isn't now able to take on anyone else. But she did want me to tell you that should your interest and availability remain, there might be a project next fall in Sudan that she will need help with. (The grant proposals are just now going through.)
    Please forward us your résumé, including previous research experience, graduate and postgraduate transcripts, and two letters of recommendation.
    Best,
    Gary Franklin
    Allen Black lived on the Lower East Side and was a doorman for a building on Central Park South, which was where we found him. He said he hated being a doorman, because he had been an engineer in Russia, and now his brain was dying. He showed us a little portable TV that he kept in his pocket. “It plays DVDs,” he said, “and if I had an email account, I could check it on this, too.” I told him I could set up an e-mail account for him if he wanted. He said, “Yeah?” I took his device, which I wasn't familiar with, but figured out pretty quickly, and set everything up. I said, “What do you want for a user name?” I suggested “Allen,” or “AllenBlack,” or a nickname. “Or 'Engineer.' That could be cool.” He put his finger on his mustache and thought about it. I asked if he had any kids. He said, “A son. Soon he's going to be taller than me. Taller and smarter. He'll be a great doctor. A brain surgeon. Or