Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

to be in the same room with it.
    I pressed the Message Play button, which I hadn't done since the worst day, and that was on the old phone.
    Message one. Saturday, 11:52 A.M. Hi, this is a message for Oskar Schell. Oskar, this is Abby Black. You were just over at my apartment asking about the key. I wasn't completely honest with you, and I think I might be able to help. Please give—
    And then the message was cut off.
    Abby was the second Black I had gone to, eight months before. She lived in the narrowest house in New York. I told her she was pretty. She cracked up. I told her she was pretty. She told me I was sweet. She cried when I told her about elephant E.S.P. I asked if we could kiss. She didn't say she didn't want to. Her message had been waiting for me for eight months.
    “Mom?” “Yes?” “I'm going out.” “OK.” “I'll be back later.” “OK.” “I don't know when. It could be extremely late.” “OK.” Why didn't she ask me more? Why didn't she try to stop me, or at least keep me safe?
    Because it was starting to get dark, and because the streets were crowded, I bumped into a googolplex people. Who were they? Where were they going? What were they looking for? I wanted to hear their heartbeats, and I wanted them to hear mine.
    The subway station was just a few blocks from her house, and when I got there the door was open a little, like she knew I'd be coming, even though she couldn't have, obviously. So why was it open?
    “Hello? Is anyone there? It's Oskar Schell.”
    She came to the door.
    I was relieved, because I hadn't invented her.
    “Do you remember me?” “Of course I do, Oskar. You've grown.” “I have?” “A lot. Inches.” “I've been so busy searching that I haven't been measuring myself.” “Come in,” she said. “I thought you weren't going to call me back. It's been a long time since I left that message.” I told her, “I'm afraid of the phone.”
    She said, “I've thought about you a lot.” I said, “Your message.” “From months ago?” “How weren't you honest with me?” “I told you I didn't know anything about the key.” “But you did?” “Yes. Well, no. I don't. My husband does.” “Why didn't you tell me when we met?” “I couldn't.” “Why not?” “I just couldn't.” “That's not a real answer.” “My husband and I had been having a terrible fight.” “He was my dad!” “He was my husband.” “He was murdered!”
    “I wanted to hurt him.” “Why?” “Because he had hurt me.” “Why?” “Because people hurt each other. That's what people do.” “It's not what I do.” “I know.” “I spent eight months looking for what you could have told me in eight seconds!” “I called you. Right after you left.” “You hurt me!” “I'm very sorry.”
    “So?” I asked. “So what about your husband?” She said, “He's been looking for you.” “He's been looking for me?” “Yes.” “But I've been looking for him!” “He'll explain everything to you. I think you should call him.” “I'm angry at you because you weren't honest with me.” “I know.” “You almost ruined my life.”
    We were incredibly close.
    I could smell her breathing.
    She said, “If you want to kiss me, you can.” “What?” “You asked me, that day we met, if we could kiss. I said no then, but I am saying yes now.” “I'm embarrassed about that day.” “There's no reason to be embarrassed.” “You don't have to let me kiss you just because you feel sorry for me.” “Kiss me,” she said, “and I'll kiss you back.” I asked her, “What if we just hugged?”
    She held me against her.
    I started to cry, and I squeezed her as tightly as I could. Her shoulder was getting wet and I thought, Maybe it's true that you can use up all of your tears. Maybe Grandma's right about that. It was nice to think about, because what I wanted was to be empty.
    And then, out of nowhere, I had a revelation, and the floor disappeared from under me, and I was standing on nothing.
    I pulled away.
    “Why did your message cut off?” “Excuse me?” “The message you left on our phone. It just stops in the middle.” “Oh, that must have been when your mother picked up.”
    “My mom picked up?” “Yes.” “And then what?” “What do you mean?” “Did you talk to her?” “For a few minutes.” “What did you tell her?” “I don't remember.” “But you told her that I'd gone to visit you?” “Yes, of course. Was I wrong