The Loose Ends List(65)

Gram





“Not fair, Gram. I can’t sit on your lap anymore. You’re too scrawny.” I’m sobbing. I kneel down on the floor and plant my head on her bony legs and cry until she tells me to get ahold of myself. Janie and Wes are crying, too, raining tears on my birthday parade.

“Okay, stop. I’m dying, not paying full price for theater tickets. Enough with the tears.” Gram pulls me up by my hair. “People are going to think I’ve pissed myself, and the one thing I have left is a stellar bladder. Light the muffin candle, Wessy. We forgot about the birthday wish.”

I look around through my puffy eye slits. My family is trying their best to smile, to give me a good birthday. I don’t want to screw up this wish. I got stupid and cynical and didn’t wish for anything in Rio. I wished for Enzo to come back to me in Rome, and it came true. It’s so much pressure. If Gram getting better were remotely possible, a wish might just make it happen, and the nightmare would be over. If only.

The logical answer hits me. I know my wish.

Enzo bursts onto the balcony. “Is there any food left?” Everybody shushes him.

“She’s wishing,” Wes mouths.

It’s done. Now I wait.

Mom rests her head on my shoulder. I let her because Gram says I need to let the people come to me. Thanks, Gram. I can already feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.



“How common do you think it is to get hepatitis from tattoo needles?” I ask Janie and Paige. We’re in the cabin, getting ready for the party. Paige is mixing margaritas on the balcony.

“Not very,” Janie says. She stops what she’s doing and looks at me and my scrunch face. “Don’t go there.”

“Go where?”

“Enzo doesn’t have AIDS, you freak.”

But Paige nods at me like she understands. “I used to constantly worry about drunk drivers. I hardly went out at night because I didn’t want a drunk to ram into me. And guess what? I ended up with a brain tumor. You never know what’s going to hit you.” She pours salt on her hand, licks it off, and throws back a shot of tequila. “The moral of the story is don’t worry.”

I shake my head.

“What? Do I sound too much like a mom?”

“No, you sound drunk,” Janie says. “You’re a lightweight.”

“You just made me do three shots in ten minutes,” Paige says.

“I don’t like drunk drivers either,” I say, before taking a yoga breath and following Paige and Janie to my eighteenth birthday party.



The wheelchair brigade files in, with Gram now joining their ranks. She finally succumbed to the wheelchair, saying that she prefers to save her legs for dancing and lovemaking.

I stand behind the potted plants and take it all in for a minute. I had always imagined celebrating this birthday with my friends at the lake club under the stars. I would dance all night with the E’s and make out with some guy and probably end up skinny-dipping in the lake.

But here I am. There’s paralyzed Mark, and his oafish brother, and bald Gloria with her minister husband. There’s Vito with his oxygen tank, and the Ornaments with their hearty laughs and Queens accents, and a guy who might possibly be a Nazi. And there’s my thirty-three-year-old sorority sister, Paige, and Lane and Janie and Ty and my family—my crazy lovable family. I look at them all and then think about Enzo, who will be here any minute. And I can’t believe I’m even thinking this, but this party is better than the one I pictured for all those years.

The crew set up a buffet with fried macaroni and cheese balls and sliders and chicken skewers and a giant cupcake tower. The deck is overflowing with silvery balloons and twinkly lights. I’m floating into adulthood on a magical ship.

“Here, honey. I found you a tiara,” Mom says. She sets it on top of my head and steps back to assess me. She gives the familiar you-would-look-so-much-better-with-a-different-hairstyle nod.

“What, Mom? I’m not putting on Spanx under a sundress.”

“No, no, honey. I just couldn’t be prouder of the remarkable young woman you’ve become.” She hugs me.

“Thanks, Mom. That really means a lot to me,” I say, stuck in her uncomfortably tight grip. She adjusts my princess crown and makes her way over to Roberta.

Janie is already drunk. She and Ty are doing shots with Jeb and Camilla in the Grotto. Bob and Dad scurry back and forth to the wheelchair brigade, carrying plates and glasses of champagne.

Paige runs up and kisses me on the mouth. She reeks of tequila. “Sip?”

I take a swig from her margarita vat. It’s so strong, I nearly barf.

“Where’s Grace?”

“Uncle Babysitter is walking her around in the stroller, trying to get her to sleep. He’s practicing for—” Her eyes go wide. “Uh-oh, oopsie.”

“Don’t worry. I know about the baby.”

“Thank God.” She smacks me on the back. “I’ve been keeping that secret for weeks. It was torture.” She takes another drink. “Those two are going to be the best dads ever. I’m so happy for them. I am wicked drunk. When are we going to dance?”

“Soon.” It’s hard to be around drunk Paige without thinking about the seizure. Every time she looks at me funny, I’m afraid she’s got one coming on.