The Loose Ends List(5)

“Oh my God, Gram. You’re freaking me out.” Janie buries her face in her hands.

“There’s nothing to freak out about,” Gram says. I clutch Janie’s sweaty hand. “They will bag me and release me into the sea, my last wishes fulfilled. No invasive, silly, life-prolonging meddling. No pain. It’s death with dignity, the way it should be.”

“Mom, there is no such thing as a death-with-dignity cruise ship. You’re goddamn delusional. Aaron, do you have psychiatrist friends at Sloan Kettering, too?” Uncle Billy is turning red.

“Ralph, will you tell these jackasses the truth? I’m exhausted.”

Everyone looks at Crusty Head. He steps forward. “Don’t kill the messenger, folks. Astrid has indeed booked you all on a ship that caters to the dying. It is technically a death-with-dignity ship, part of a kind of underground movement. Trust me, this is all recent news to me, too.” Ralph pauses and neatens the stack of papers. “The nondisclosure agreement also protects Astrid, since she has been a benefactor of the movement for a few years now, and she would prefer to keep her involvement confidential.”

“What are you even talking about?” Aunt Mary says. “Speak English, Ralph. Are you saying there are ships where they kill people and throw them overboard? And Mom has been bankrolling this?”

“Not overboard, Mary. There’s a cute little door they slide you through. You’re so melodramatic.” Gram walks around the desk and stands next to Ralph. “I had the privilege of joining my friend Ruth on her ship. We took quite a ride around the Horn of Africa.”

“You said Ruth had a heart attack at the McDonald’s drive-thru,” Mom says.

“That was her alibi. Mine will be more nuanced. So that’s it. I have a fantastic ‘Astrid’s Last Hurrah Mystery Tour’ planned for us, kids. Are you in or out? I need to know tonight.”

“How much is this going to cost?” Aunt Mary says.

“Oh, of course Mary brings up the money,” Uncle Billy says, throwing his arms up in the air.

Aunt Mary glares at Uncle Billy. “It’s a valid—”

“I don’t know.” Gram cuts Aunt Mary off. “It’s a lot. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more for you to squander when I’m gone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a minute.” Gram leaves through the secret passageway.

“Nice going, Mary,” Mom says. “You know what? Maybe this isn’t about you. Maybe Mother is serious about all of this.”

“Oh, shut up, Trish. I still don’t believe she’s dying. She’s a drama queen. I can tell you I will not be going on a death-with-dignity cruise. I just can’t believe she’s doing this.”

Mom shakes her head back and forth violently. “No!” she shouts. “Mary, you will not do this. It’s always about you and your life and your issues and what’s going to inconvenience Mary. So, for once, just stop. She may or may not be dying, but we’re going to do what she wants.” Dad puts his arms around Mom and plants kisses all over her face.

“Gag.” Janie turns away from them.

“Tell me about it,” I whisper. “But good for Mom, though, standing up to her.” I nod toward Aunt Mary, who sits staring straight ahead.

“What are we going to do with the business?” Uncle Billy’s face is still flushed.

“We’ll figure it out. Donna can take over,” Wes says. “And we’ll find a temporary chef. Whatever, Billy. We need to do what Assy wants to do.” Only Wes is allowed to call Gram Assy.

Brit sits hunched in her chair, texting furiously, with an ugly scowl on her face.

“Brit, come sit with us,” I try.

“No thanks, Maddie. Don’t you have a party to attend?” asks the cyberstalker.

“Did you not hear anything Gram said? She’s dying, Brit. Gram is dying.” Janie’s eye makeup is smeared all over her face. I grab a tissue from the desk and dab around her eyes. Janie has always been the prettiest cousin. She looks like her dad, blond and cute and Scandinavian. Brit got all the ugly Aunt Mary troll genes.

I used to be so jealous that the twins lived two blocks away from Gram. She kept snacks for them in her pantry and had Titi fix them dinner on school nights. Please let me live with you, I begged her. I won’t be difficult like the twins. She always responded the same way: Your parents wouldn’t like that very much.

The room buzzes with all kinds of tones and salty language. Nobody’s crying anymore. There’s too much to complain about.

It feels like we’ve been sitting in these folding chairs for hours. Janie pulls me toward her and whispers, “How the hell are you going to do this cruise? You can’t even be in the same room with Grandpa’s ashes.”

They burned Grandpa Martin’s body like he was a marshmallow. I went back to the puppet lady because I couldn’t handle knowing his ashes were in Gram’s apartment. I was terrified somebody would knock them over and my quiet, red-faced grandfather who loved golf and whisky and Irish music would spill out onto the floor.

“We don’t have a choice, Janie. Right? I mean, do we?” The throat lump has migrated to my stomach. The anxiety is almost unbearable.

“Why does Gram have to be so over-the-top about every single thing?” Janie says.