The Loose Ends List(83)

My wish is simple. The sea will decide if it’s meant to come true.



Five. Leave our mark.

There’s a nook in the underbelly of the ship, not far from Aunt Rose, between a broom closet and a boiler room. Enzo used to go there with his sister to escape the sadness surrounding them. We find a spot and scratch our words into a painted metal beam. Maddie and Enzo beneath the sea, bound by this ship eternally. Enzo came up with that himself.



Six. Be eternal.

We summon the family and Francesca to the telescope to stargaze and tell stories about our lives before the Wishwell. We laugh more than I have ever laughed with my family and discover a meteor shower impressive enough to make Dad say, “Holy f*cking shit.” Then we surprise them. We show them a star-naming website on our bees and choose the bright and spectacular Wishwellian as our very own. We are officially eternal.



Seven. Do something extraordinary.

This one’s my secret. It’s happening tonight, and I’m getting nervous.





The ship slows to a stop somewhere off Hawaii.

“Do I need to wear anything special?” Enzo asks.

“Shorts and a T-shirt. Maybe a sweatshirt.”

“I figured you’d want me in Armani.”

“Not this time.”

We wait in the lobby armed with a stuffed backpack and a jug of water. Paul the dinghy guy motions us out the side door, where the dinghy is revved and waiting.

“Maddie? What is this?” Enzo says.

“We’re going for a ride.”

“It’s four o’clock in the morning. It’s pitch-black out there.”

“Relax. Paul is a master dinghy driver. And your buddy Eddie gave his blessing. He’s the Wishwell dream master, right?”

It’s freezing in the musty dinghy as we tumble along the choppy sea. “You’ll have to get out here,” Paul says. “This is as close as I can get.”

I panic. I can’t believe this was my idea. I didn’t realize we would be jumping into chest-deep, murky cold water in the dark.

Enzo sees the fear on my face. “It’s okay, Maddie. We don’t have to do this. Let’s just go back.”

I take a yoga breath. “No. We’re doing something extraordinary. Help me get the surfboard.”

“What surfboard?”

Paul slides open the life jacket storage closet and reveals my surprise—a surfboard and a wetsuit. Somehow we manage to lower the surfboard into the water and paddle together to the shore without being eaten.

Paul takes off. We’re alone on a beach, wet and cold, but invigorated. I pull soggy towels out of my bag and we sit on the sand.

“You know, we’d be less cold if we took these wet clothes off,” I say.

“That is true,” he says. He pulls my T-shirt over my head.

We merge with the sand and the tide and the briny breeze as light creeps up on the horizon. It casts an eerie halo over our ship.

“Come on, you’re going to Egypt. Get out there and surf,” I say. He grabs the board and paddles into the strong but steady breakers. He flies in and paddles out, flies in and paddles out.

We stand knee-deep in the water, bodies swaying, foreheads touching. I play with his damp hair and tell him he’s an amazing surfer and Mark would be proud. The waves swell stronger, the sting of the water chills us to the bone. And still we dance.

We watch the sunrise enfold the Wishwell.

I say it first this time. “I love you, Enzo.”

He tilts his head and looks at me. “I love you, too, Maddie.”



I don’t go with him to pack or eat or field the swarm of mosquitoes gathered to see him off. I kiss him. It’s gentle and warm and just right.

“He’s just a boy,” I whisper. “He’s just a boy.”

It doesn’t work anymore. I’m floating. I’m falling. I’m falling apart.





TWENTY-EIGHT


AFTER BUB THE dog was killed by the bus, Gram took me to Bermuda. Titi fed me crepes, and Gram buried me up to my head in pink sand. The sadness was still there, but Bermuda and crepes and sand made it more bearable.

Enzo was my Bermuda and my crepes and my pink sand.

And now he’s gone.

I crawl to the bed and scream into the pillow and cry until my face swells and my nostrils swell and I can’t breathe.

I’m a pumpkin rotting from the inside out.



They swarm. My bee buzzes over and over again. They bang on the door, but it’s bolted and I can’t get up. I can’t humor them.

Nobody is ever getting in again.

Eddie breaks down the door. Mom rushes in.

“Oh, Maddie, look at you. You need to eat. Please. I know this is so hard, but you need to eat. Oh, honey, you’ve had your period all over the bed. Let me help you.”

“Mommy, I’m weak. I can’t.”

Mom comes back with Janie and Camilla. Together they lift me and put me in the shower. I sit under the warm spray and shiver like the first time with Enzo. Mom puts a straw to my lips, and I drink for her.

They dress me and change my sheets; Janie props me on pillows and combs my hair. She’s gentle and loving, and it makes me cry a torrent of silent tears. The nursemaids surround me. I smile a little, sip more ginger ale, take Esperanza and hold her to my cheek as if a stupid cloth doll could make me better.