by Andrea Bartz
Karen forced herself back into the basement. Shit—her slippers had tracked wine out onto the carpet, ruby footsteps that looked just like blood. She gasped as she took it all in: jagged red ovals alternating their way past the sofa and up the stairs, out to the light, out to freedom.
She walked to the edge of the puddle, which had formed the shape of a kidney, of a baby in the fetal position. Slowly she sank to her knees, watching the wine seep into her robe. She walked her hands out in front of her, barely noticing the shards of glass cutting into her palms. She lowered her body down onto its side, her head resting on her forearm, and as the bare bulb droned overhead, she wept.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I’m so grateful to you, the reader. You walked around in my brain and let my words leave little fingerprints on your mind, and for an author there’s truly nothing more incredible. Of all the books in the world (and all the things you could do with your time), you chose to read this novel, and that means more to me than I can say. I hope something in it felt true to you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I’m grateful to my brilliant and kind big sister, Julia, who proved to me that sisters can also be best friends and who let me build snow forts and create elaborate worlds of make-believe with her when we were kids. Thanks for being supportive and insightful, always. I’m the luckiest.
I don’t know what I’d do without my intrepid first readers, Megan Brown and Leah Konen, who provided swift and thoughtful notes when the first draft was so rough, you could light a match against it. (That honestly might’ve been the manuscript’s fate if it weren’t for you two.) I can’t thank you enough for your time, help, and support. Massive thanks, too, to early readers Jennifer Keishin Armstrong, Erin DeYoung, Alanna Greco, and Jinny VanZanten for your generosity and insight. I’m so lucky to have each and every one of you in my life, and not just because you’re all incredible wordsmiths.
In fact, I’m unspeakably fortunate to be surrounded by amazing women (and super healthy female friendships) in New York City, Milwaukee, and beyond. Lianna Bishop, Blaire Briody, Kate Dietrick, Katherine Pettit, Abbi Libers, Kate Lord, Anna Maltby, Erin Pastrana, Katie Scott, Nicole Stahl, Jen Weber, and others (you know who you are)—I just love you so damn much.
I still kind of wake up expecting to learn there’s been some mistake and the legendary Alexandra Machinist is not, in fact, my literary agent—but then you show up for me in ways I couldn’t imagine and make even my most outlandish dreams come true. I’m honored to work with such a kind, down-to-earth, outrageously talented badass. That’s true of the entire ICM family, including Ruth Landry and Josie Freedman: You are so startlingly brilliant and good at your jobs and also such great people; I’d hate you if I didn’t adore you so much.
Speaking of unstoppable women, there aren’t words for how grateful I am to my editor, Hilary Rubin Teeman, who knew what an Andrea Bartz Thriller [hand flourish] should look like well before I did. It is truly a pleasure writing for you and soaking up your genius. Thanks so much to the wonderful Angeline Rodriguez—what a privilege (and a treat!) to work with you. Sarah Breivogel puts every other publicist on the planet (<
I’ve been so fortunate to meet many warm, generous, empathetic, and talented fellow authors over the last couple of years. Huge thanks to Megan Collins (The Winter Sister), Kate Hope Day (If, Then), Angie Kim (Miracle Creek), Julie Langsdorf (White Elephant), Nicole Mabry (Past This Point), Daniela Petrova (Her Daughter’s Mother), Julia Phillips (Disappearing Earth), Melissa Rivero (The Affairs of the Falcóns) and the whole DA gang for your encouragement, camaraderie, and kindness throughout this nutty process. (Reader, do yourself a favor and buy their amazing novels!)
A billion thank-yous to the social justice warriors and intersectional feminists fighting to make the world a kinder, fairer place for women and other marginalized groups. It’s a scary time to be a woman and an even scarier time to be rising up and battling inequality and injustice. We see you.
Last but certainly not least, thank you to my parents, grandparents, and entire extended family—your support and encouragement mean the world to me. I love you.
About the Author
ANDREA BARTZ is a Brooklyn-based journalist and author of The Lost Night. Her work has appeared in The Wall Street Journal, Marie Claire, Vogue, Cosmopolitan, Women’s Health, Martha Stewart Living, Redbook, Elle, and many other outlets, and she’s held editorial positions at Glamour, Psychology Today, and Self, among other titles.