Epilogue

Annie jogged along Bleecker Street toward the daycare, ponytail whipping vigorously, pushing an empty two-seat stroller in front of her and listening to NPR in her headphones. The June heat was almost unbearably muggy, and she was covered in sweat.

The reporter was saying that the UN armies had signed a new treaty with the Serbian government. It looked as if Belgrade was finally going to know some peace.

It startled Annie to realize that nearly two years had passed since she’d left the place. They’d certainly gotten out at the right time. Only a week after they caught the train to Vienna, that vile dictator Milosevic had taken his revenge against the pro-democracy crowd, beating them to a pulp beneath the clubs of his riot police. War had broken out soon after, and within a year, American jets were bombing Belgrade. They’d never really had a chance of making a life in that place—it had all been a mirage.

Still, whether she liked it or not, Annie knew she’d always feel some connection to Belgrade. The connection wasn’t entirely pleasant, of course. Even with the healing balm of time, her memories of it were littered with stark images of grime and corruption, betrayal and debauchery...

Yet, in the end, Annie couldn’t entirely blame the city for what had happened. Factually, all the leading players in her melodrama had been foreigners in Belgrade—even Miloz (or, should she say ‘Mike Cotton?’) had been a product of America, more than Serbia. So maybe they’d brought the ugliness with them. Maybe that ugliness was always there, inside every person, and Belgrade had just teased it to the surface.

At any rate, whatever dark clouds lay over her memory of the place, Annie had to admit that their time there had produced silver-linings as well. For one thing, Tom was happy with his new job. To salve his ego, he’d persuaded himself that the Serbian gambit had been a big success. After all, he had landed in a better-paying gig at the end of it, hadn’t he? Beyond the size of the paycheck, Annie judged his new position to be exactly the same as the setup he’d walked away from in Philly. But this didn’t seem to bother him.

Spending time with the Garcias in New York wasn’t as uncomfortable as Annie had feared either. Ricardo did continue hitting on her, and remained as handsy as ever, but his heart wasn’t really in it anymore. Now that she represented a notch on his bedpost, his eye had moved on to fresh quarry. There were always associates with pretty wives that he hadn’t fucked yet.

And although she and Evie remained an awkward fit, personality-wise, Annie valued the deeper friendship she’d developed with the older woman. Evie’s experience, her no-nonsense attitude, and her joie-de-vivre made her not only a good sounding board, but tremendous fun to be around as well.

Then, of course, far beyond all such ephemera, came the two truly important products of their Serbian sojourn: Joey and Isabella. The twins had appeared in her life nine months after their return to the States—and they would never have existed if it hadn’t been for that crazy detour through Belgrade.