The Loose Ends List(52)
“What the hell is she doing?” Wes says. We hang back a little and watch the rest of them digging around this tree.
“I knew it!” Aunt Rose says, with a smug expression.
We can barely make out R+K and A+M Forever in the middle of a faint heart shape at the base of the tree.
“Oh my God, Rose. I completely forgot about our forever tree.”
We let Gram and Aunt Rose have a lucid sister moment standing in front of the tree, whispering and giggling, with water up to their ankles.
“Come on, girls, let’s get a photo,” Dad says, pulling his bee out of his pocket. Gram puts her arm around her big sister.
“Rockettes,” she shouts. They manage to kick up their legs as Dad takes the picture. It’s as if Bled’s magical properties have just swallowed up six decades.
On the way back to the boats, we pass a public restroom. “Hey, Janie, you see that bathroom over there?” Gram says.
“Yeah, Gram. I don’t have to go.”
“I just wanted to let you know that’s where we conceived your mother.”
A chorus of yuck and too much information and classy Assy rings out.
“That explains a lot,” Uncle Billy says.
We spread out and crank jazz music on the coach ride from Slovenia to Rome. As we pass through the burnt oranges and deep greens of the Tuscan countryside, we get a text from Eddie.
Astrid and Family, I thought you should know that our lovely dancer passed away this morning in her sleep. Holly had hoped to hold on a little longer. Services are tomorrow on the ship. So sorry to deliver the news during your travels. Eddie
Everybody looks at Janie.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” she says, with tears streaming down her face.
Marshall texts us a couple of hours later.
All, I am heartbroken. Holly was my best friend and my light. Even at her sickest, she showed me how to be a better man. Thank you for giving Holly a wonderful last hurrah and for allowing her the dignity of one last dance. And most of all, thank you, Janie, for being the friend Holly needed and deserved. You are an incredible young woman. Don’t you dare change. We need more pure spirits like you and Holly on this earth. I plan to fly home from Asia to be with Holly’s family. Please stay in touch. Love, Marshall (and Holly)
As sad as I am that Holly is gone, I’m glad she’s free of the body that betrayed her, just like Skinny Dave. I try to comfort Janie by telling her how unique she is in a world where most people, myself included, don’t know how to treat the dying. She soaks my shirt with her tears and tells me it wasn’t like that. She just liked Holly.
The bus is silent the rest of the trip.
SEVENTEEN
DAD AND I share the same first impression of Rome: The drivers are lunatics. My second impression is that Rome is our kind of city. Start with art, shoes, and food, and throw in Gram and Bob’s favorite jazz singer, a lady named Celia Hobbes, and we’re all happy to be here.
Our hotel sits at the top of the Spanish Steps. Gram wants to spend a few hours of alone time with each one of us while we’re in Rome. She picks Janie first, probably because she feels bad Aunt Mary ditched her own child and because Janie’s still pretty shaken up about Holly.
Mom, Dad, Jeb, and I embark on a whirlwind sightseeing tour. We walk at a fast clip, the way we did in the old days when we took family trips to boring places with too much rich history.
“This is a strange crumbly formation,” I say as we wander into some ancient ruins.
“This, Maddie, is the Roman Forum. My God, look at this.” Dad gets down on his knees and touches the ground. “It’s utterly amazing. The Romans constructed roads and hydraulic systems two thousand years ago.” Dad can barely contain his excitement.
“Okay, even I’m blown away by this,” Jeb says when we get to the Colosseum.
Two guys dressed as gladiators stalk us until we take a family picture with them.
If the lava tube felt mystical and energizing in a cool, spiritual way, the Roman Colosseum feels mystical in a terrifying, bad-demon, sinister way. It’s like I can sense the screaming souls of the people ripped apart by lions. I shriek.
“What the hell, Maddie?” Jeb jumps and falls onto a slab of stone.
“I felt something graze my leg. I think it was a giant rat.”
“Moron, it’s a cat.” Jeb points to a scraggly orange cat with dead eyes.
“Look, guys. I guess they don’t do a lot of spaying and neutering in Italy.” Mom nods toward a swarm of cats pacing and lounging behind a rickety gate.
“Hey, kids, maybe they’re reincarnated from the lions they kept chained here, ready for battle.”
“Stop, Dad, that’s annoying,” I say, but part of me wonders if he’s onto something. Cats creep me out with their claws and sneaky prowling.
“Can we go?” I say.
We track down the fake gladiators and pay thirty bucks for a five-by-seven photo of the four of us half-smiling. With everything that happened in ancient Rome, it ends here with a cheesy souvenir photo.
It only takes pit stops in four piazzas for us to realize they’re pretty much all the same. But we discover the true draw of these cobblestoned squares: gelato. We sit four in a row on the edge of a fountain.
“I gotta say, kids, I’m proud of you two.” Dad sets down his gelato cup and puts his arms around us. Mom jumps up and fumbles in her bag. “None of this has been easy, but you’re both going with the flow.” Dad pats us on our backs.