The Loose Ends List(49)

“That’s a good one, Gram.”

“You’re a traveler, too, Bobby. Let’s give you one.” Gram slaps Bob on the arm. “How about noodles?”

Bob smiles. “Oh, I’ve got a good one. And what’s nuts is I haven’t thought about that night until this very minute.”

Aunt Rose shouts something from the bedroom: “Okay, babe! Okay. Okay, babe.” I jump up to see what she wants.

Gram follows me into the bedroom.

“What’s she saying, Gram?”

“She’s talking to Karl. She does this all the time.”

“She called Uncle Karl babe?” I whisper.

“Yes, she did.” Gram covers Aunt Rose with the puffy white comforter, and I softly close the bedroom door. “Go on, Bob. I want to hear about noodles,” Gram says.

“So I was in Hong Kong with the band doing gigs at big clubs. One night I had a craving for lo mein and I ended up at this dinky restaurant. The owner saw my trumpet and invited me to this dark, seedy back room where guys were smoking pipes, probably opium. They didn’t speak any English, but somehow they managed to belt out those Sinatra tunes in Chinese until sunrise.”

“God, you guys are soul mates,” I say. “Seriously.”

“One more, Mads. Your gram’s getting loopy.”

“How about the hind legs of a boo shoo bird?”

“You’re not going to stump me on that one! That’s the one Jebby made up when we were playing this very game many years ago. We were in stitches that night.”



I tuck Gram in next to a restless Aunt Rose and stretch out on the couch. I’m not ready to go to bed. I eat the rest of the pastries with warm Coke and write a bunch of Iceland postcards to my friends. I scroll through the volcano pictures and text the best to Paige and everybody.

Burt texts back right away, Those sheep better watch out with your crew. LOL.

Paige texts: Never have I ever seen the hairy ass of a guy named Burt five times in one week. (Insert jelly bean.)

I expected Enzo’s three things when I got back from the volcano, but all I had was a photo of Paige and Grace surrounded by Patagonian penguins. I sent my three things this morning, but I decide to send three more. Maybe he needs a reminder. 1. I just emerged from the Snaefellsj?kull Volcano lava tube. 2. I love 80s movies and music. 3. I put a popcorn kernel up my nose when I was six, and it came out two weeks later.

It’s the middle of the night, and the relentless sunlight still streams through the heavy curtains. I’m tired and cranky and annoyed that Enzo’s blowing me off. I tiptoe out of Gram’s suite to crawl under my own fluffy comforter and get a few hours of sleep. With the swipe of a hotel room key, I walk into a live porn movie that might be called American Barbie Does Icelandic Elf. I close the door and slap my hand over my mouth.

I did not need to see that.

With no way to get back into Gram’s room, I’m forced to lie down on the leather lobby sofa, cold, exhausted, and cursing out my cousin. A text arrives as I’m drifting off with my face against a burlap pillow. 1. I’m very forgetful. For instance, I visited my cousins in Scotland and left my bee at home. 2. While in Scotland, I laughed out loud at the thought of our Wishwell conga line and my cousins thought me daft. 3. Caveman misses hot girl.





SIXTEEN


IT’S RAINING HARD as the plane touches down outside Venice. By the time we get to the gondolas, it’s hot and steamy. Venice would be romantic, if not for the stench.

Gram had texted us at seven in the morning with her not-very-mysterious clue. Gelato. Gucci. Gondolas. Guess where? I got to sit between Janie and Aunt Rose on two flights. I preferred Aunt Rose telling me about meeting Karl in Central Park and her dog, Tippy, to Janie’s sullenness and dry heaves. I don’t know if she saw me walk in on her and the elf. I hate to admit it, but Jeb was right. She couldn’t be faithful to Ty.

The canals stink of garbage bags filled with fish corpses. But it’s a pretty city, in an Old World, rusty antique kind of way. We snake around the buildings teeming with life. Clothes hang from windows where garlic wafts abundantly. I’m just hoping our gondola doesn’t tip me into this putrid water.

Janie and I waste our only day in Venice asleep. By the time we get our act together, it’s dinnertime and I’m starving.

We leave our ornate Renaissance-era hotel room overlooking the Grand Canal and make our way through St. Mark’s Square before dinner. There might be more pigeons in this Italian square than in all of New York City. The nasty birds have formed aggressive gangs to attack yelping tourists. Janie thinks they’re cute. Maybe she’ll hook up with them, too.

“Shrimp, please.” That’s what we say. We’re a family of hogs sniffing out the best food wherever we go. According to Gram, the food to eat in Venice is shrimp.

Wes makes us go around the table and say what we’re grateful for.

“I’m sorry. Is this Thanksgiving?” Uncle Billy says.

“No. I just want to say I’m grateful to be in this family, as high maintenance as it is, and I’m grateful for every minute I have with you, Assy.”

“And I’m ever grateful for my Wessy.”

“Who’s next?” Wes says.

“I’m grateful for the wisdom you have imparted as a mother and grandmother,” Mom says with a quiver in her voice. Gram blows her a kiss.