The Loose Ends List(22)

“That’s not a surprise. Trish, did you know our Maddie is a virgin?” Gram announces.

“Really, honey? That’s terrific,” Dad says. “I’m so proud of you.”

“The prom queen is a virgin?” Jeb snorts. “You can’t make this shit up.”

“Shut up, Jeb. You don’t even know me. I was homecoming queen. Not that you cared. Lizzie was prom queen, idiot. And at least I could have sex if I wanted to. What’s your excuse, freak?” I hate that I’m letting Jeb get to me.

“We’re all glad you made it through high school without putting out, Mads.” Uncle Billy puts up his hand to high-five.

“Oh my God, you’re all so annoying. I’m going to have sex with someone today just to shut everyone up.”

“Me too,” Janie says.

“Me too,” Aunt Rose says.



We finally escape the dinghy hellhole and find ourselves in a beachside cove. The other Wishwell people are already there. I want to run up and hug Paige and show her I’m prepared to completely avoid reality, but she’s wrestling with a raging Grace tantrum.

A tall, lanky man with missing teeth greets us. He calls himself Tits. It’s clear how he got his name: He’s a skinny man with moobs. He’s at least a C cup.

I notice Skinny Dave and his mom didn’t come, and I feel kind of bad. Wes texted them last night to see if they were looking forward to Jamaica. They didn’t text back.

A grinning woman in a pale yellow dress walks out of a building that says JAMAICA MAMA on a faded Coca-Cola sign. Tits introduces her as his wife, Mama. She hugs everybody. Mama’s massive, flabby arms engulf Gram. She turns to me and squishes me in a hearty embrace. Her armpit smells like dead food, but I instantly love this gorgeous woman.

“Welcome to Jamaica, everyone,” Mama bellows. “This is your home today. You go sit on the beach. Get comfortable. There’s a shady special spot for you wheelchair folk. We’ll cook you a feast on the beach later. Now, if you’re going on the secret cave tour, go over to the bus with Tits.”

“What’s the secret cave tour?” Dad yells.

“Jamaica is full of tourist caves, but we’re going to a secret cave where the runaway slaves hid out back in slave days,” Tits says. “They say it’s a mystical spot, with healing properties.”

“Cool,” Dad says. “Let’s do it.”

The sun is torturing me. This is why people don’t venture to the Caribbean in the summer. I look up the stretch of road. The whitewashed buildings with pink and blue and yellow shutters stand in various states of disrepair. A group of old men sits at a picnic table drinking Red Stripe beer. They wave to a hand sticking out of a car puttering up the one road in town. There are a couple of bars, a town hall, and a fruit stand. I decide to take the secret cave tour.

Paige’s parents push an overloaded stroller to the beach line with Wheelchair Lady, also known as Holly, and her nurses and most of Vito’s family. Paige and Lane join the rest of us in the secret cave line.

My family occupies the back half of the rickety bus. The duct-taped seats smell like pee. I settle in next to Dad and behind Gram, who is swapping New York stories with Gloria. It takes Tits; Holly’s husband, Marshall; and three other guys to help Burt carry Mark onto the bus and dump him in the front seat, but he’s determined to come.

Tits lurches down a bumpy dirt road along the beach, then into a thick forest, where the road gets even bumpier. Dad and I clutch the seat in front of us, while Janie flips through a Vogue, completely unfazed.

“My goodness, people are living in those shacks,” the minister says to Dad, who nods as he cranes his neck to get a better glimpse of the tiny houses lining the roadside. “One of our sumptuous Wishwell feasts could pay for food for a year out here. The inequality of wealth is staggering,” the minister continues.

Gram turns around. “We’re supporting these people with marijuana tourism, Minister. Think about it. The Wishwell is boosting the local economy. Buy some pot if you want to help these people.”

“Astrid, the minister is entitled to share his concerns without being encouraged to buy pot.” Dad gives Gram a dirty look. I wonder if that’s what my scrunch face looks like.

After an hour, we enter a clearing and the bus stops because there is no more road. We get out and stand on the edge of a steep cliff overlooking a lush valley.

“Hey, Janie, remember when we used to play land of gnomes and fairies?” I say.

“Of course.”

“I think we’re there.”

Mark basically has no use of his arms or legs. He can move his head, but his body is soft and floppy.

“No worries,” Tits says after they drag Mark off the bus. “He can ride in here.” Tits points to a donkey that is waiting impatiently for the guys to load Mark into his cart.

“Oh, this is classic,” Burt says.

“Get pictures, bro,” Mark says, laughing hysterically, as Burt and Marshall lower his limp body into the donkey cart.

We walk in a pack through a patch of lush forest. I feel creatures staring at me from hidden places. The minister holds on to Gloria, but she still can’t keep up, so Uncle Billy lifts her onto his back. We reach another clearing, shrouded in mist. I hear Jeb say, “Oh, shit, the mother lode.” It’s a field of marijuana as tall as I am. The reddish-brown soil sticks to my sandals as we pass the giant plants. Now I know why they call it weed.