The Loose Ends List(41)

“Someday. They’re waiting for the right moment.”

“I guess that’s more interesting than ‘group.’”

“It’s fascinating, actually, what people will say when they have nothing left to lose. The way they laugh and carry on down here, you’d never know they were terminally ill. Oh, and they also do graffiti. You have to see this.”

I follow him through a room with video equipment and what looks like a recording studio into a dimly lit corridor so long it must span the entire length of the ship. I can’t even see the end. There are layers and layers of colorful garlands hanging from the ceiling and graffiti covering the white walls. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“They call it the Gathering Wall. Somebody got angry at the world one day and went on a rampage with a Sharpie. I guess it went viral.”

As we get closer, the colors and shapes turn into words:


I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of being a burden even one more day.—WW





“In the book of life, the answers aren’t in the back.”—Charlie Brown





And soon I’ll return to the white rose of Yorkshire, where the sky bathes my soul with a watering can.—PJS





When I was a little girl, I stomped on a baby bird. I’ve regretted it for sixty-seven years.—MJR





I thought my last meal would be filet mignon. But all I really want is an animal cracker.—EM





My child is a murderer. I wish I had aborted him.—Anon





I look at Enzo, flipping through his bee as if he’s waiting for the bus. The shock of this wall, mixed with everything else, is wreaking havoc on my stomach. I am too young for this shit. I want to run up to my bed, but I can’t take my eyes off the Gathering Wall. Some of the clusters of words look like flowers from a distance. But they are sentences surrounded by me toos.


I can’t wait to die so I can finally be free.—JD Me too. Me too. Me too.





I feel my soul stirring, itching to be released.—WFG Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too.





It is humiliating that I need a nurse to write down my deepest thoughts because my f*cking hands died before the rest of me.—Jo Me too.





You would think the pain would be the worst part. But for me, it’s the diaper changes.—M





Somebody wrote:


LOL.





It goes on and on.

Quotes from Shakespeare. Quotes from Maya Angelou. Quotes from Lao-tzu. Quotes from Bob Dylan.


Hanoi was a lovely place. Why did they make me bomb it?—CR





I’m going home now, friends. Wish me well.—Mel





“Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day!”—ST





The funny, the heartbreaking, the profound phrases continue on and on and on. I scan the walls for Gram’s flowery handwriting. What would she write? I want so badly to know her secrets.

“You all right? You’re quiet,” Enzo says.

“I’m okay. Just overwhelmed.”

“Let’s go. It’s late.” Enzo leads me back to the stairwell. I’ve seen only a tiny fraction of this Gathering Wall. I pause for a second to look at a drawing of a hot-air balloon carrying a load of smiling people through the clouds.

I can almost hear the voices of the dead, echoing through the creaking sounds. “Get the hell out, you healthy * kids,” the whispers say. “This is sacred ground, and you don’t belong here.”

Enzo points up at the garlands suspended from the ceiling.

“Can you see what those are?”

I try to make out the perfect circles hanging from fishing line. I realize they’re the rubber bracelets people wear for causes. Pink for breast cancer. Gray for brain cancer. Purple for pancreatic cancer. Yellow for every cancer. Hundreds and hundreds of bracelets.

They’ve left their diseases behind.



Gram’s sitting on the edge of my bed with her Bermuda shorts and spider veins and mug of lemon tea. She’s barking orders at Janie and me to pack faster because we both overslept in our boyfriends’ beds.

“Bring the wool sweaters and parkas.”

“What? Are you serious? Oh my God. We’re going to Antarctica, aren’t we?” Janie says.

“Just do it,” says the loudmouthed secret keeper.

We get a text from Eddie.

Wishwell guests: Just a reminder to turn in your clearly labeled medicinal “herbs” by three pm. We will store them in the vault until departure from South America. Wishwell policy requires us to hold on to your electronic devices until we complete our journey. Safe travels to our adventurers.

We meet in the dining room for brunch before we get off the ship. Dad’s eager to tell us about his new buddy.

“His name isn’t Gollum, Maddie. It’s Heinz.”

“So is he a Nazi or not?” Wes asks.

“I didn’t think it was necessarily appropriate to ask him over coffee at seven AM,” Dad says. “He mostly talked about his nephews and nieces. And his failing heart. He seems like a nice man.”