The Loose Ends List(25)

Janie pulls her bee out of her bag and tosses it like a hot potato. She looks down. “Oh shit, Gram’s pissed. She wants us at the beach. They’re waiting for us.”

I don’t want to leave.

“That’s okay. I need to get to the beach to meet some university mates here on holiday.”

Janie pulls me toward the door. “Bye, Jamaican buddies. You guys are super cool,” she yells.

I shake my head, look back at Enzo, and go for the nonchalant wave.

“Bye, Maddie,” he shouts over the music.

“Oh my God. Janie. Why was I so nervous?”

“Maybe because he’s painfully hot and has a British accent?” She stumbles over the curb and nearly runs into a man on a moped.

“Janie! You have to sober up. Gram is not going to be happy. Come on. Think sober thoughts.”

I grab Janie’s hand and pull her up the street. All I want is to turn around and grab Enzo’s perfectly tanned hands instead. I’d pull him away with me to the secret Jamaican caves, even if they are infested with bats.



Gram’s standing with her hands on her hips as we approach the crowd of misfits gathered around a line of tables down the beach from Mama’s restaurant. Waiters rush back and forth with giant platters of food.

“Where were you? Astrid’s furious,” Dad says.

“We told you we were going exploring,” I say. I’m hoping Janie doesn’t open her mouth.

“That was hours ago. Come on, girls. Tits and Mama went through all this trouble to make a nice evening. Get over there and be charming.” Dad pushes us toward the tables.

“Glad you could make it.” Gram is not happy. “You missed the cocktail hour.”

“We’re sorry. We got lost,” Janie says.

“You got lost in a one-street town? Are you drunk, Jane Margaret? There are no words.” She walks away, leaving us feeling like terrible people. Gram does not like anyone missing her planned events.

“Everyone, come eat,” Mama calls. “We have a feast set up for you.” Mama must have timed the dinner to start at the beginning of the long Jamaican sunset. Reds and purples fan out over the scarlet expanse of sun disappearing on the horizon.

I don’t know where to sit. There’s a spot next to Holly, but I don’t think I can eat next to someone in a wheelchair. Holly is scary to look at. It’s as if she’s been blown by a warping mechanism that twisted her body into a distorted shape. She can’t eat, so liquid nutrition tubes feed into her stomach. I talk to her like she’s Abby’s mentally challenged dog and hate myself for it, but I can’t stop. I say stupid things like “Marshall tells me you were a dancer. Isn’t that nice?” I get tongue-tied.

Mom and Jeb are taking turns holding a seashell to their ears. I guess she’s gotten over the alcoholic remark and he’s managed to smoke some grade-A Pineapple Skunk. Bob Johns waves me over.

“Maddie, I want to introduce my old friend Delly and her son, Joseph.”

A woman wearing a coral-colored headscarf and piles of beaded jewelry smiles up at me. Gram always talks about people’s energy. This lady’s energy calms me down right away.

“Come pull up a chair here.” Delly makes room for me. I squeeze in between her and Joseph and end up directly across from Holly. Janie plops down next to her. Poor Holly is probably getting a massive dose of rum breath, and she can’t even move away.

I’m suddenly ravenous. Mama was right. It is a feast. Bob’s friends give me a play-by-play of all the dishes: the fruity rice, the meat, the fried patties. It’s so good I want to lick the drippings out of the barbecue pit. Delly and Joseph are getting a kick out of the skinny girl throwing back a massive amount of food.

“Wait, let me ask something else and see if I understand you.” Janie is talking to Holly like they’re old friends. Janie is asking questions, and Holly is blinking answers with her eyes.

“Do you miss eating food?” Janie asks. Ridiculous question.

Holly blinks twice. “Yes? That’s yes, right?” Janie cranes her neck around the rigid, twisted body of this poor crumpled woman with big brown eyes and hair cropped close to her head. It’s hard to figure out what she might have looked like once.

Her husband laughs. “That’s yes. I’m thinking she would love some of this food right now.”

“Do you want us to turn your chair around so you can see the sunset? It’s breathtaking.” Janie studies Holly’s eyes. “Yes. She blinked twice. Turn her around.”

Marshall and Janie turn the wheelchair around just as the sunset is taking over the entire Jamaican sky. We all seem to pause to see what she’s seeing. Thank God she still has her eyes.

I’ve never thought about how brief a sunset is. It’s so brief, it’s almost cruel.

I tell Bob’s friends about New York and NYU, and we talk about education in Jamaica as we all suck the last of the barbecue off our fingers. I look down the long table to see Burt feeding Mark soft food with a spoon. Paige’s mom watches her laugh at Gram’s long-winded story, as if she’s trying to memorize her laughing daughter’s face. It feels like we’re gathering for a holiday, only the holiday is death.

My stomach, full of meat and fried deliciousness, hangs over my shorts. Two guys play guitar and bongos near the bonfire. Bob steps up with his trumpet. Gram and Aunt Rose hold hands and wiggle their hips like groupies. We all dance with Tits and Mama and their friends, swaying to the music as tiki torches throw bursts of light on the faces of my grandmother, parents, brother, cousin, uncles, and great-aunt—all the people who mean the most to me.