The Loose Ends List(32)
“I’m going to have a baby cousin!” I jump on top of Wes. “We’re going to have a baby with tiny fingers and toes and drool and poopy diapers.”
“Get off,” he says. “Your breath stinks like the nation of Thailand died in your mouth.”
“Thanks for the complex.”
“Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”
Wes won’t let me leave until I pinkie swear I won’t tell anyone about the baby. I do it, but I don’t know how I’m going to keep a secret this juicy for long.
I text Enzo on my way to meet Mom and Aunt Rose for lunch. The drunk guy from the lounge chair died. (The Wishwell way.) He texts back right away. He’s at peace now.
It’s even hot in the shade. Mom and Aunt Rose are wearing matching sun hats to combat the tropical rays. The deck is pretty empty because the patients are all at group. Nobody really knows what group is. Not even Paige or my blurting grandmother will talk. I doubt Gram is sitting in a circle talking about how to cope with death. But they all go down, even Holly with the nurses, and have their secret dying-people club with their special food for the chemo palate and cannabis oil.
“Karl loved kielbasa. I couldn’t stomach it,” Aunt Rose says.
“We know,” Mom and I say at the same time.
“Gave you gas,” Mom says.
“It sure did. Or maybe it was the—”
“Sauerkraut,” Mom and I finish.
I leave them after Aunt Rose’s second helping of peach pie and before Mom can suggest a more appropriate outfit for my date, and wander around killing time until I’m supposed to meet Enzo in the arcade. I’m getting that feeling again, the sinking-stomach feeling. I spent all those years dating boys I could barely have a conversation with because they were the best I could muster up. I hope that’s not how Enzo sees me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’ve never wanted anyone to like me this much.
The nauseating smell of cigar smoke drifts down the hall from the rowdy card room. The Rat Pack is playing poker again. Nobody even bothers looking for Dad, Uncle Billy, Bob Johns, Vito, or Paige’s dad anymore. If we need them, we slap at the thick smoke seeping though the cracks in the door and choke our way into their little man cave. Isn’t there enough cancer on this ship?
Enzo is in the arcade playing Whac-A-Mole.
“Want to play pool?” he says.
“Sure, I’ll play some billiards, old chap.”
If it weren’t for his distracting kisses every time I get a ball into a pocket, I’m pretty sure I could have beaten his ass in pool. There’s nothing more cliché than the guy-presses-against-girl-and-makes-out-on-pool-table-as-cues-drop-to-ground routine.
This is so different.
His mouth is warm and firm, and hungrier than the other boys I’ve kissed. His hands pull me toward him by the base of my back, and it’s the smell of his soap and the slight stubble on his face and the little guttural sounds coming from somewhere deep inside me. One word repeats in my head, over and over again.
More.
ELEVEN
WHEN I GET to the Mix-and-Mingle dinner, Janie is sitting in a chair facing Holly’s wheelchair and staring into Holly’s eyes.
“So should I stay with him despite the pickle, or not?”
Holly blinks twice.
“Wait—does that mean yes, I should stay, or no, I shouldn’t?”
Marshall is laughing and shaking his head. I follow him to the bar.
“I am so sorry. My cousin has no boundaries. I’m mortified right now.”
“Are you kidding? Holly loves this,” Marshall says. “I wheel her around all day getting pissed off because people look at her like she’s a freak. Or they throw a pity party with their faces and walk the other way. Nobody gets that there’s a complete mind inside that paralyzed body.” We watch Janie whisper something in Holly’s ear. “Janie doesn’t even seem to notice Holly’s disabled. Holly loves that girl.”
“Okay, as long as she’s not being too inappropriate. Holly could be a total prude. How does Janie know?”
“Trust me, Holly’s not a prude. She was the life of the party, the one leading the conga lines.” He points up at the conga line mural. “Drink?”
“No, thanks. I have to find my mingle table.”
Janie’s still grilling Holly’s eyes, so I look for my place card. I’m seated at table eleven with Janie, Mark, and Burt. I scan the other place cards. Great. Enzo’s with Gram. God only knows what embarrassments she’s going to blurt out tonight.
Janie arrives at our table just in time to hear Burt and Mark’s nicknames for everyone on the ship.
They accuse us of being entirely void of creativity when we tell them we were calling them Wheelchair Guy and Wheelchair Guy’s Brother.
Mark calls Janie Barbie, because she looks like a Barbie doll. I’m Queen Bee because they say I strut around like a snobby teenager. I guess between that and scrunch face, I should get the hint and smile more. Mark and Burt call Vito’s kids Ornaments because of the Christmas theme and how they all look alike. I’m stealing that one.
“Can I have your attention, everyone?” Francesca quiets the room right away. “I hope you’re enjoying tonight’s Mix-and-Mingle. I’m learning so much about you all. I wanted to introduce my wonderful son, Vincenzo.” Heads swivel to see where she’s pointing. Enzo shrinks in his seat. “Enzo is a university student in London and a star football player. He’s usually very shy about these events, but it seems one of Astrid’s lovely granddaughters has pulled him out of his cabin.”