The Loose Ends List(85)

“Well?” Bob says.

“He looked at me and nodded,” I say.

“Okay. That’s something.”

I’m in the elevator when I get Enzo’s text. It’s only fitting since this is where I first saw him.

1. I found a place in Cairo that serves something that almost tastes like macaroni and cheese balls. I plan to go there a lot. 2. I dreamt of Astrid last night. She was eating watermelon and spitting the seeds at Mark. He was catching them with his hands and flicking them back at her. 3. You are the only woman I have ever loved.



I agree to wear a yellow lei for the hokey luau theme. Gram would have preferred me in blue.

The doctors and nurses sip their drinks and chat with the crew. Janie tells me she and Ty have made a commitment. They’re going to try to make it work. I’m giving the union a full month, or until the first big fraternity party at Janie’s school. But who knows? Strange things happen every day.

I eat a little, but there’s a perpetual hairball of anguish stuck in my esophagus. A slouched figure shuffles in from the other side of the deck. It’s the minister. He shaved and put on a white dress shirt. I wonder if Gloria ironed it for him before she died. The Ornaments fuss over him and bring him food.

Eddie gets up and thanks Wes and Billy for their generosity. He reminds us to stay in touch and that our bees are our lifeline to the other Wishwellians. Wherever we go, we’re never alone.

“Every trip, the crew chooses a bee screensaver for the guests to take home. I think you’ll like this one. Francesca, go ahead and do the honors.”

Francesca does something on her laptop and raises her hand. The crew starts a countdown. Five, four, three, two, one. Our bees buzz. A video screensaver pops up of our conga line from the night on the equator, with the quote streaming along the bottom. And Still We Dance.

I smile my best smile because I need air, and I don’t want them chasing after me. People are cheering and laughing at the video. They’re jumping up on cue as the music starts. It’s as if nothing has changed. It’s as if everyone is still with us. But they’re not with us. They’re on Wishwell Island. They’ve gone home because their loved ones are gone. They’re shoved in a drawer on the ship. They’re in Egypt. They’re suspended beneath the waves.

Nobody notices me slip out. I don’t know where to go. I can’t go to bed. I can’t play Whac-A-Mole or sit in the café. Everything reminds me of them.

There are too many stairs, too many memories. When I get to the Gathering Wall, I feel for the light. I have to know what she wrote. I have to know how she really felt right before she left us.

The first words I see are tiny words scribbled against the groove of the wall.


I gave all my money to a street family in Morocco.—Pete





I’ve never felt more at peace.—JSY





There’s a drawing of a little girl peeking through a window. And a drawing of an owl on a branch made of Christmas holly.


I want to die to a rock-and-roll song.—AY Me too. Me too.





I’ve never paid attention to the way the sky changes a thousand times a day.—R





There’s a flock of angels drawn with purple wings. I get lost in the wall and forget why I’m here. I begin to wonder if I’ll know when I see it. Then I see it, and I know.

It’s a snow globe scrawled in a low place, like she did it from the wheelchair. It’s not nearly as pretty as Jeb’s. She drew a circle and a base and inside she wrote one simple sentence:

What a way to go!





I laugh. She didn’t have any deep regrets or twisted secrets or musings. This was Astrid’s Last Hurrah, just as she had said. It’s okay.

It’s all okay.



I slip back into the world of the living as the party is winding down.

“There you are, honey. We were afraid you went back to bed,” Mom says.

I realize I haven’t seen Mom drunk since our first night on the Wishwell. I don’t know if this Mom will stick, but I like her, and I hope she does.

Dad extends his hand, and we dance to Frank Sinatra’s “The Best Is Yet to Come.” Jeb and Mom dance, too. He dips her, and she laughs.

“Dad, I have to tell you something. But I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“Uh… Maddie. Dads don’t need to know certain things. We like to pretend our little girls are virgins forever.”

I shove him away. “Dad, that is mortifying. That’s not it. Come on.”

“Oh, okay. So what is it, then? I’m bracing myself.”

“I got a tattoo when I was in Rome with Gram. She talked me into it.”

“Oh, boy. You and your brother and these tattoos. Where is it?”

“On my tush. It’s a little starfish.”

“I guess it’s not as bad if it’s hidden. Do you know people aren’t allowed to be buried in traditional Jewish cemeteries if they defile their bodies with tattoos?”

“Dad, after this trip, why would anyone want to go into the ground?”

“Good point,” he says. “I read an article that said the formaldehyde from dead bodies is poisoning the earth.”

“Gross. Don’t tell me that stuff.”