Chapter 14 — The Conqueror

Sixteen hours later, Flight 892 from Tokyo touched down at Los Angeles International Airport, and my husband walked off the jet bridge feeling, I am certain, like a conqueror.

I have reconstructed this part from the accounts of those who were there, and I return to it often, because it is the precise inverse of my own dawn in that hotel room, and there is a symmetry in it that I find I cannot get enough of.

Julian carried our sleeping daughter over his shoulder, and Evelyn strolled beside him, adjusting her sunglasses, pausing to browse the duty-free shops as they made their unhurried way toward customs, a mother and son at their leisure, entirely at ease.