This One Is Mine: A Novel

Begin Reading

Table of Contents

Reading Group Guide

Newsletters

Copyright Page

In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

For my little family

Someone put

You on a slave block

And the unreal bought

You

Now I keep coming to your owner

Saying,

“This one is mine.”

You often overhear us talking

And this can make your heart leap

With excitement.

Don’t worry,

I will not let sadness

Possess you.

I will gladly borrow all the gold

I need

To get you

Back.

— Hafiz

CHAPTER ONE

Those Violets   
   Night Visitor   
   Tuesdays in Los Angeles

One Car   
   Museum of Broadcasting   
   Parrots!   
   Miracle Me

For a Geek   
   Troubadour   
   The Coatroom

D
AVID STOOD AT THE SINK, A PINE FOREST TO HIS LEFT, THE
P
ACIFIC
O
CEAN
to his right, and cursed the morning sun. It beat through the skylight and smashed into the mirror, making it all but impossible to shave without squinting. He had lived in Los Angeles long enough to lose track of the seasons, so it took glancing up at CNBC and seeing live images of people snowshoeing down Madison Avenue for it to register: it was the middle of winter. And he determined that all day, no matter how bad things got, at least he’d be grateful for the weather.

His pool shimmered. Stone Canyon Reservoir shimmered. The ocean shimmered. He cocked his head and flicked his wrist, skipping an imaginary stone from the pool to the reservoir. It split some Westwood high-rises, then landed in the Santa Monica Bay. He wound up again — this time to clear Catalina — then stopped.

There was a furry . . . brown . . .
thing
floating in the Jacuzzi.

“Honey!” He walked into the bedroom. “There’s something in the Jacuzzi.” He paused, waiting for the daylight in his eyes to fade.

His wife was in bed, her back to him, her hair seeping from under the pillow she’d taken to putting over her head at night.

“Ma-ma, Ma-ma.” A squawk erupted from the baby monitor. There was a cough, then a bleat.

But Violet didn’t move. What was her plan? Who did she think was going to get the baby? Was a standoff really so necessary that Violet would let Dot cry like this?
Jesus Christ.
David marched by the bed, skirting the rug so his bare heels struck the hardwood.

“Aggh.” Violet pulled the pillow off her head. And there they were, the reason he fell in love with her almost twenty years ago in front of the Murray Hill Cinema: the violets tattooed behind her ear.