The Loose Ends List(60)
The hotel isn’t terrible. It’s the same decor as all the nail salons I’ve ever been to, with bamboo plants, peach-colored bedding, and cold floors. The problem is they overbooked the hotel, and Gram refuses to stay at a crappier place. I end up sharing a room with Janie and Mom, and poor Enzo gets Dad and Jeb. I pray he still likes me after rooming with those two.
“So? Can you believe this is happening? Is it sinking in that Enzo is with you right now?” Janie is holding me by the shoulders and shaking me, while Mom tries to figure out how the shower works.
“I have to tell you something, but if you tell anyone, ever, I swear to you I will punch you in the head.”
“Okay, maniac. I swear.”
“I’m not a virgin anymore.”
“Can somebody help me figure out this shower?” Mom comes out in her underwear with her boobs flopping around. Janie runs in and says “shit” about a hundred times before she finally figures it out and comes back.
“Okay, when could you possibly have lost your virginity? Did you join the mile-high club while we were playing UNO?”
“No. Remember when you left us in the park in Rome? We did it there in a grove of trees. It was romantic and perfect, and in case you’re wondering, he used a condom.”
“Pain?”
“Probably like a four on a scale from one to ten.” She nods like that sounds about right.
“Pleasure?”
“Probably a four on a scale from one to ten, but who cares? It was Enzo, and it’s done. I don’t have to think about it again. I mean I’ll think about it, probably every day for the rest of my life. But I don’t have to wonder anymore. I’m so happy, Janie.”
“I’m so happy for you, Mads. I mean he’s gorgeous and smart. He’s like Ty.”
Except for the pickle part.
Mom walks out in a towel. God, she takes the shortest showers ever. Did she even use soap?
We’re so jet-lagged, we don’t even know if it’s night or day. Finally, everybody—even Aunt Rose, who is slightly more with it since she started antibiotics for her urinary tract infection—meets to go out for dinner. It’s after nine at night, and we end up at a famous open market with stands filled with questionable-looking food. An Australian couple tells us it’s called Snake Alley because they sell snakes, living and dead.
Wes strikes up a conversation with two local guys who are obviously desperate to practice English. They apparently have nothing better to do than guide us through this market. It smells so bad I gag at least twice. I’m trying to talk to Enzo and appreciate this experience, but it’s awful. I won’t try any of this stuff, even though I’m starving. Dad buys chicken feet, something called bean curd, and fried shark, which Bob describes as “chewy.” I can’t believe they’re gnawing on actual shark meat and the bony little disembodied feet of chickens.
“Not bad,” Wes says. “Kind of crunchy.”
My bee buzzes. A little tip: You need to get some again soon or you’ll forget how to do it and you’ll be back to square one. My little Maddie is all grown up. Janie gives me a wave from behind Aunt Rose, who is now also chewing on a chicken foot.
The random guys stop at a beverage stand and start laughing. They want us to try deer penis wine. What the hell is wrong with these people?
Finally we get to a bakery. I pull Enzo inside while the others are out in the street inhaling steaming noodles from plastic bags. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. I certainly have. I look up at him. He leans down to kiss me, and they all rush in to kill the moment. They fawn all over the fruit-covered cakes and sugared pastries in the case. I’m so hungry I eat half a spongy, fruit-covered cake in the span of three minutes and chase it with a Coca-Cola. Even the Coke tastes bad. Uncle Billy makes a toast to great adventures, and we clink Coke cans and milk tea cartons, because half my family is drinking something called milk tea.
I’ve barely heard Gram talk the whole night. Maybe she’s still recovering from her all-nighter with Bob and Celia. It’s probably not easy to party all night when you’re really old and dying of cancer. But Gram said it was one of the best nights of her life. Maybe it’s all finally hitting her. Or maybe she’s hurting more than we know.
Gram was the last person to get to the lobby this morning. And she was holding a teddy bear. Mom and Uncle Billy worriedly whisper that she’s regressing, wondering why else she’d suddenly be holding on to this teddy bear. It’s making me nervous. She clings to Bob Johns like a security blanket—he’s the binky to go with her bear.
This bus ride sucks. We’re careening down roads with no guardrails through the countryside of Taiwan toward an unknown destination. This morning Dad pressed Gram for information, until she got all cranky and called him an irritating little *. We pass through towns congested with smog from mopeds and cars. Then we go through a stretch of mountains, green and lush, with mist rising from the tippy tops and quaint temples dotting the landscape.
Dad gives us the speech about our bus getting rear-ended, but we decide to take our chances and sit in the back. Enzo talks to me so close, he’s making it impossible to concentrate on anything but how he looked naked. How can his breath be sweet and fresh after the fried scallion pancakes we ate off a cart for breakfast?
“Is your gram always mysterious like this?”