All Tomorrow's Parties

by Rob Spillman

  I was so besotted with romantic visions that I dragged us to Boulder, then Portugal, then Berlin, chasing visions, romantic ghosts. I was looking for creativity outside of myself instead of inside of myself. I wanted to be where I was not. I wanted to be someone—anyone—I was not. My delusion sucked in Elissa, and it has nearly crushed her. I have failed her. And I have failed myself.

  Elissa sits next to me on the love seat in her parents’ ­living room, holding my hand. She squeezes it so tightly that her knuckles are white and my fingertips are red. A day removed from Portugal, exhausted and raw. How easy it would be to unlace my fingers, slip out the door, and run. Just run into the unknown.

  Not this time.

  I’m going to let all the pain, failure, and confusion catch up to me. Miserable, yes, but mixed in with the misery is love.

  I’m going to let myself be present. I’m going to let myself be.

  With Elissa. For the first time in my life, I am still. This is the place.

  Acknowledgments

  Many people helped me through the ten year journey that resulted in this book. For their early and continued support, thank you Elise Cannon, Amy Williams, Michael Hainey, Karen Russell, and my Tin House family. Betsy Lerner believed when few did. Greg Villepique’s meticulous insights, both large and small, born out of thirty years of friendship, were invaluable. Jon Raymond also read an early draft with his excellent eye and intellect. Katarina Born offered crucial corrections on all things German. Rachel Kushner, David Shields, and Nick Flynn offered support at just the right time.

  Bill Clegg has been there through thick and thin, above and beyond. Thank you for your close attention to every possible thing, from the miniscule to the enormous. I feel honored to work with the incredible literary team at Grove, the house of my publishing hero, Barney Rosset. Thank you Elisabeth Schmitz for your leap of faith and continued guidance, as well as heartfelt thanks to Morgan Entrekin, Judy Hottensen, Amy Hundley, John Mark Boling, and Deb Seager. I will forever be indebted to superhero Corinna Barsan, who patiently edited multiple drafts while repeatedly talking me off of ledges. Thank you to my parents for their love, understanding, and crucial feedback. Thank you also to my in-laws, Connie Schappell and the late Frederick Schappell. My children, Miles and Isadora Schappell-Spillman, are a constant source of inspiration and motivation. Thank you for being yourselves. Lastly, this book would not have been possible without Elissa Schappell. Thank you for pushing and challenging me, and for letting me grow up with you.