The Loose Ends List(72)

“It’s bizarre that you talk to your grandmother about sex. Have you told her about us?”

“Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. She won’t be able to die without knowing how big your package is.”

“Fantastic. Tell her it’s thirty centimeters.” He holds his hands an arm’s width apart.

“How many inches is that?”

“You Americans and your inches. It’s about twelve,” he says. “That’ll silence her.”

“No. That’ll just make her grope you more.”



Jeb and Camilla made up in the middle of Wishwell Island’s massive cannabinoid pasture. It took an entire field of pot to stop Jeb from being a douchebag. So Camilla will be joining our kayak trip tonight after all.

Dad and I are walking out of the invertebrate center. I haven’t seen Dad this excited since the Roman ruins.

“Doesn’t it seem like forever ago that Astrid told us her nutty plan? I gotta give it to her, this is the way to go out with a bang,” Dad says, stopping abruptly to close his eyes and take a cleansing breath. I take a good, long yoga breath myself. It’s as if the island is nudging us to breathe.

He leaps up and smacks the branch of a flowering tree. Tiny white petals tumble to the ground. “Think about it. Next time we’re on the couch, zoning out in front of the tube, we’ll be wondering why we’re wasting precious time when we could be making extraordinary moments. It’s as if all this death has given us the meaning of life.”

“Dad, are you high?”

“High on life, maybe.” He attempts to skip. I pull him by the shirt and make him stop.

“Have you ever seen Mom with such a spring in her step? I think she might have found her calling.” Dad takes off his shoes and digs his hairy white feet into the sand. “She has loved every minute of helping Gloria with those recipes. She lies in bed at night talking about how she wants to visit nursing homes and record people’s legacies.”

“That’s a perfect job for Mom. She actually has the patience to listen to people.”

My toes make little marks as we wander on the edge of the beach. This island is a living organism, covered in sprawling vines and flowers. The birds and the bugs, the nectar suckers, hover and dart. The island is breathing, too, and we’re stepping on it, tickling it. The lava tubes and the caves are arteries; the magma deep inside is its blood.

“There he is.” Dad points down the beach to Enzo, talking to a woman I don’t recognize. I get the stomach feeling. Who the f*ck is she?

“Love you, Dad. That was fun.” I make a beeline for my boyfriend.

“Hey, Maddie, this is Layla. She’s a botanist here.” A botanist? She’s a hot girl in her twenties with olive skin, huge boobs, and a surfboard.

“Hi,” Layla and I say. I think she just gave me the up-and-down bitch glance.

“Layla’s been here awhile. She’s researching indigenous flowering plants.”

Awkward silence.

“That’s really cool,” I say. “I wish I could hang out, but I promised my uncles I’d help them before dinner. Nice meeting you, Layla. See you later, babe.”

He could have followed me, but he let me go. He stayed with Tits Number Three.

I slam the plates down on the long tables in the outdoor pavilion and stick bunches of flowers in vases because God forbid Wes caters an event that isn’t over-the-top perfect.

Enzo sends three What’s going on? texts. I ignore them and the What’s everybody wearing? text from Paige. Guests start arriving to crowd the bar and chug their mai tais, and I’m still in a sweaty tank top and running shorts. Mom’s going to die of embarrassment on her big night.

Gram and Janie nibble buttermilk biscuits with honey butter and play the word game while I search the pavilion for Enzo.

“Honey,” Janie says.

“That’s an easy one. This story is rated R because I was topless. But everybody’s topless in that particular village,” Gram says.

“I like this game,” Gloria says.

“Me too,” Vito says.

I think of the Gathering Wall. Me too. Me too. Me too.

The steel drum band plays in the background as people from the ship and island mingle, and Francesca steps onto the stage.

“What a treat to see so many faces I love in one place. Thank you, Billy and Wes, for preparing this gorgeous feast. I will certainly hire you boys for my next meet-and-greet in New York.” She claps her hands twice. “Now, before we begin, we have a little surprise for one of our beloved guests.”

I spot Enzo sitting with Ty and a group of island people. I don’t see Layla.

Francesca calls Mom up to the stage. “Trish, the floor is yours.”

Mom takes the mic. Her hand shakes a bit, and her face goes red. I’m getting anxious watching.

“Um. Thank you, Francesca. Bear with me. I prepared something to read.” She clears her throat. “Gloria is a Wishwell patient and a dear friend. She has lived a life of public service and devoted countless hours to helping those in need. One of Gloria’s greatest gifts is her talent for creative cooking. The problem is she stored all her recipes in her head. Until now.” Mom pauses and motions Roberta up to the podium. Roberta holds up a bound copy of These Fine Foods.