The Loose Ends List(23)

We arrive at a cluster of green tin shacks, and a white woman with a blond rat’s nest of furry sausage dreads walks over. She’s braless, and her saggy boobs flop around as she pulls Cokes out of an outdoor cooler. She’s Tits Number Two.

“Hey, everybody, welcome to the caves.” Tits Number Two is American. “Grab a Coke or water if you want, and Tits will take you in.” She points to the cart. “The cart won’t fit in the cave. Do you mind riding in a wheelbarrow?”

Mark laughs. “Hell, no. Bring it.”

Gram hobbles along, holding on to Bob and me. Wes and Uncle Billy half carry Aunt Rose until we get to a rock formation jutting out in the middle of the forest. Tits leads us to a narrow opening about eight feet high and covered with hanging moss.

“This is neat!” Mom shouts. She’s the first one in. I can’t believe my mother is waltzing into a cave in kitten heels.

We squeeze through the crack into a dark cavern.

“Generations of ancient peoples made this their home,” Tits says, “and then groups of escaped slaves built thriving communities in these caves.”

“It’s an actual underground railroad,” Janie says.

“Yeah, except there’s no railroad, genius,” Jeb shoots back.

We weave through the rocks, and Jeb and Burt point out every formation that can possibly pass as penis-shaped. Lane wraps his leg around one of them for a picture as Burt wheels Mark over for a wheelbarrow photo bomb.

We shuffle single file to the entrance of another creepy fissure in the wall.

“We need to be quiet when we go into the bat city,” Tits says softly. “It’s home to millions of bats. Shh. No loud noises or fast movements. It’s very nice to see them asleep, but they will panic if they’re disturbed. Sometimes they even drop their babies.”

The group pushes through the fissure before I can turn around and run out the entrance. I can’t stand bats. My stomach starts cramping, and I’m trapped.

I wade through a thick layer of bat droppings in my flip-flops while Tits Number Two shines a light toward the ceiling. Paige grabs my head and nearly drags me to the ground. Janie is trying to bury her head in my armpit while Wes clutches my arm from the other side. Do they think I’ll protect them when this bat colony attacks us?

“Holy bat cave, Robin,” Burt whispers really loudly.

“Shh,” we all hiss.

“Asshole,” Paige says.

“Look up,” Tits whispers way too loudly. “Tonight they’ll wake and eat the bugs. If you look closely, you can see some of the babies sleeping on their mommies.”

I want to hit Tits for the way he says “mommies.” Dad and Jeb are staring up with their mouths open.

“Incredible,” Dad says.

I keep my mouth shut tightly and look up for a second. It’s revolting and amazing at the same time. These things are heavy breathing as they fidget in their sleep. There are so many it looks like a dense, fungus-covered stalagmite or stalactite, whichever one grows downward.

I finally exhale when we exit toward the sound of running water into a massive cavern with light streaming through. The cavern is damp and misty, and when my eyes adjust to the light, I’m looking down at a pool of water under a baby waterfall. It feels like we are inside the earth’s nostril, with the moss-covered walls and dribbles of water. Somehow standing inside a nostril feels strangely calming.

“Let’s get a group picture,” Burt says. Burt is really into taking pictures.

We assemble in front of the waterfall and behind Mark’s wheelbarrow. Wes pulls Tits in next to Gram while Tits Number Two positions Burt’s bee.

“Say penis cave,” Burt yells.

“Penis cave!” We all humor him.

We walk out the mouth of the cave and into a clearing and slowly make our way down a path and back to the green shack.

“That was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done,” Paige says. “It was such an adrenaline rush.”

Uncle Billy and Wes carry Aunt Rose and Gloria on their backs. We pass a makeshift sign nailed to a tree that says HERB IS THE UNIFICATION OF MANKIND—BOB MARLEY.

I’m thinking the true unification of mankind is actually fear, or death, or penis jokes, or all of the above.



We survive the ride back to town, probably because Dad sits in front and nags Tits to slow down. As our mutant tribe disperses, Janie and I decide to explore.

We wander until we find a tin-roofed restaurant in front of a shady cove. Ceiling fans whir above a circular bar, and reggae music welcomes us like an old friend.

We order delicious meat-stuffed fried patties and dipping sauce from the scrawny, gold-toothed bartender. Within minutes, Janie is drunk on rum and rambling about Captain Do Me. The bartender tells her there are too many fish in the sea to fret over one. We pull our bar stools over to a growing group of locals, men and women of various ages. I feel like I’m back at the lake club, talking about random things with half-drunk people.

“What do you think Brit is doing right now?” Janie says.

“Probably calling the cops on some party she didn’t get invited to,” I say. “God, remember when we were kids and she was more normal? What happened to her?”

“Gram says Brit will get better when she has something for herself and can stop wallowing in jealousy.”