I pulled Dad’s thumbless hand up to my mouth and kissed it. “I still love you, thumb or not.”
“I love you, too, sunshine. I was never cut out for the force. Sometimes it seems like I’m a sponge, like I absorb people’s moods. There were too many rotten things on the job. I didn’t have thick enough skin for all the bad scenes. It really messed me up for a while.”
I knew exactly what Dad meant. I was trying to kick the anxiety I had absorbed from Val’s guilt and sadness and Alice’s fear and worry. I must have inherited Dad’s skin, because mine wasn’t thick enough either.
“That’s why the ice cream business is perfect for me. I absorb all that happy, carefree energy. It’s a blast.”
I let go of Dad’s hand to grab more peanuts. “So you lost a thumb and Great-Grandma Sullivan lost her feet. I guess it runs in the family.”
Dad laughed. “And my old man was missing a nut.”
I nearly choked. “That’s way too much information.”
“Didn’t lose it saving anybody, though. He was just born with one nut. Your grandmother teased him mercilessly.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Later, after I had showered and dabbed vitamin E oil on the monster tail, I snuggled under clean sheets with my Flopper and my fans blowing. Jean texted just before I fell asleep.
We all need a night out.
TWENTY-FOUR
WE DECIDED WE were going to do something fun and light for once, like a carnival or mini golfing. Things were getting intense again, and Val really needed a distraction. Mute Mike had shown up at her house early in the morning with her old math notebooks, a framed photo of her and Javi, and the watch she had given Javi for his sixteenth birthday. She broke down and Mike actually talked to her. He told her he really didn’t know whether Javi was deliberately pushing her away so she could live her life without feeling guilty about the lupus or if he was just an asshole. Val texted me a picture of Mike walking out of her building with the caption Mute Mike the snack man. Sent to do the dirty work.
I finally heard from Alice during my lunch break. Not up for going out tonight. Need to find Izzy.
I went to her house after work, smelling of hay and sweaty money. I marched straight upstairs to where I knew she’d be and found her kneeling at the altar, her hands clenched at her sides, her pale skin streaked with tears. I knelt beside her and rested my hand on her leg.
“Who’s this?” I said softly, nodding toward a new poppet.
She smiled. “This is my poppet to find a missing friend.”
She picked up the doll and turned it over. “I made her out of Izzy’s Abercrombie T-shirt. That’s the only item of clothing I could find.” She sniffled. “This is a picture of Izzy and a picture of Saint Muerte. I was supposed to stuff her with items from Izzy and all the people looking for her, so I folded three of their family Christmas cards and I put in this little tin of mints from her aunt’s wedding and the business card of the cop supposedly leading the investigation. And I wrapped her in lace and tied it with one knot, and now I need to say the holy death prayer for nine nights until Izzy’s found.” Alice’s voice was high-pitched, almost ethereal.
“That sounds good, Alice.”
I sat on an unstable stool while she messed around with the candles and situated her Izzy doll.
“I think you should come out tonight. Val needs us right now. We need each other.”
I figured she’d put up more resistance, but she rubbed her hands on her skirt and pushed herself up from the floor and said, “Yeah. I’ll go for a little while.”
We met at the duck pond just after six, when all the birds were at their most fluttery. Jean wouldn’t get out of the car.
Alice was in a foul mood. Val barely talked. I almost told Gordie to take me home, where my grandmothers were in the backyard beating all the rugs in our house with wooden spoons.
“I have an idea,” Gordie said. “But no judgment, okay?”
When Gordie Harris said No judgment, it usually meant he was going to expose yet another facet of his excessive family wealth. This time, it was the Harmony, a colossal yacht.
“Oh, shit. No. You’re lying,” Jean said when we pulled up to the marina where Dad used to park the ice cream truck so we could look at all the pretty boats.
“Stop. Don’t make a big deal. It’s embarrassing.” Gordie held his phone to his ear. “Jay, we’re coming down.”
“Who’s Jay?” I said.
“He’s the captain.”
We followed Gordie with his messy hair and his beat-up Converse and his ratty I LOVE NEW YORK T-shirt onto the gleaming yacht. Captain Jay and two other guys nodded hello and busied themselves preparing for our excursion. Gordie led us up to a deck in the front of the yacht and dove on top of a massive sectional sofa. We all piled on and quickly assumed the relaxed, pillowed posture of the very rich.
“Gordie, get me a cocktail, darling,” Jean said. “I’m going to have a look around.”
The boat glided slowly toward open sea.
“I could get used to this,” Val said, sipping her lemon Pellegrino and sinking into a bed of ivory cushions.
Alice scrolled through her phone.
“Alice, we are on a yacht cruising the Atlantic on a beautiful summer night. Can you put your phone away for a little while?” I snatched the phone out of her hand.
“It’s not my phone, Sadie. And it’s a little hard to enjoy all this when my best friend is missing, you know?”
She had been searching Izzy’s drug phone for signs of Hector, texting contacts, trying to find anyone linked to Izzy.
“I’m literally texting Hey, have you seen Hector? to every single contact in Izzy’s phone.”
“You’re not abandoning Izzy if you take a little break. I promise.” I tucked the phone into my jacket pocket.
“She’s in the city. I know she is.”
I looked at Val. Val looked at Gordie.
“Hey, Alice,” Gordie said. “What if we went to the city with you to look for Izzy? Would that help?”
“I’ll go,” I said. “I have the next two days off. I’m in if we can go tomorrow.”
“I’m in,” Val said. “I’ll totally go into the city.”
Alice’s face softened. She motioned for us to come closer. The boat lurched forward and I fell across her lap, and we lay there tangled and laughing. Gordie tossed a container of hummus and a bag of pita chips on the coffee table and sat on the chair next to Val.
“Jean’s steering now. Brace yourselves,” Gordie said. “He’s like a five-year-old.”
I wrapped my arms around Alice and held her like I used to hold Shay when she was upset.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “The poppets will fix it.”
Jean’s head emerged from the lower level. “I’m king of the world!” he shouted.
It was almost as if Gordie had paid somebody to erect the most glorious sunset in the history of sunsets.