Cairo, Egypt – July 1967

Blythe House wonders why it is she feels like she knows her son better than she knows her own husband? Yes, Gregory is her flesh and blood, the life she produced, her child. But John is the man she made the conscious decision to share her life with, to honor and to cherish, to grow old with. He was her best friend, her sweetheart, the love of her life. Yet lately, she's felt like she hardly knows him at all.

They – John, Blythe, and eight-year-old Gregory – are in Cairo, Egypt. It's been five months since they've arrived, but everything still feels foreign. Up until now, the small family has only lived in San Diego, California and Boblingen, Germany. Though both locations were new for Blythe, they had always lived on designated military bases. Being surrounded by other American families much like their own provided Blythe with a great deal of comfort.

Things are different in Cairo.

There are no American bases in Egypt. Not a single one. There just aren't enough men assigned to Egypt, John tells Blythe when he first gets his transfer papers, and very few of those who are in Egypt have brought their family. This makes Blythe wonder why John has brought his family, but she doesn't voice her concerns. She never does.

Without the base, Blythe's sense of community and camaraderie has all but disappeared. She doesn't speak the country's languages, doesn't practice the people's religion, and doesn't understand their culture. Even after five months, she feels like she's treading choppy water, struggling to keep her head above crashing waves of confusion.

Blythe knows part of her discomfort is caused by the nature of John's new assignment. Or, by what she doesn't know about the nature of John's new assignment. Of course Blythe knows what he is trained to do, what he did in San Diego and in Germany. She's seen him fly, has photos of him holding Gregory in front of one of his jets. Blythe understands all of that. What she doesn't know is how John is using those skills here, in Egypt. Is he flying? Working in an office? Training? Involved in a top-secret, cloak and dagger mission for some government agency? She doesn't know because John won't tell her.

Though Blythe knows the need for secrecy isn't John's fault, she can't help but feel the distance it is wedging them. The distance grows daily: every unanswered question is a foot, each unexplained absence a yard, and the resulting disputes each feel like a mile. Five months in to their two-year stay, Blythe feels like there's an entire world between them.

Her saving grace is Gregory. Blythe has always loved her son, but she's never felt as if she's understood him. When he was a young boy, a toddler, Blythe felt constantly bewildered by him. She didn't know how to handle his outbursts because she couldn't recognize their cause, struggled to answer his questions because couldn't understand what it was he wanted to hear. She gained a better understanding of him during their two-year stint in Germany, but his tendency toward solitude and rumination were still enigmatic. Gregory is now eight and Blythe is finally seeing her son for who he is. He's curious and smarter than any child she's ever encountered; his antics and tactlessness make her laugh and his bright blue eyes make her swoon; his outbursts make her cheeks burn with rage and his tears make her heart sink with sorrow; his questions make her think harder than she has ever thought before, and his laughter makes her happier than anything in the world. After five months of being each other's constant companion, Blythe knows her son like the back of her own hand.

It might feel like there are galaxies between Blythe and her husband, and maybe there are. But Blythe isn't upset by this because, with her son by her side, she's never alone.