As Close as Sisters (7 page)

7

McKenzie

“G
et in.” Lilly pointed.

I stared at the motorized grocery cart. I didn’t want to
get in
. But they were all standing there looking at me, making me feel self-conscious. As if I didn’t already feel that way, sporting no eyebrows. We were standing outside our favorite organic market in town.

“I can walk,” I told her. “I feel good today.”

“Get in the cart,” Lilly ordered. She was wearing another sundress, this one pink and green, and the big white sunglasses again. The handbag that weighed a hundred pounds swung from her elbow. “We don’t have all day. I want to sit on the beach.”

“Come on,” Janine urged, pressing her hand into the small of my back. “It’s not a big deal.”

“If she doesn’t want to ride, she doesn’t have to ride.” Aurora went to the double doors, and there was that familiar pneumatic hiss as they opened.

Janine and Lilly stood on either side of me.

“You should save your strength,” Janine said quietly into my ear. She glanced away, but kept talking, as if this was some kind of top secret summit. “You don’t want to waste it on grocery shopping. We’ll go swimming this afternoon. All of us. If you’re up to it,” she added quickly.

I couldn’t see Lilly’s eyes through the designer sunglasses, but I could feel her stare, boring into me. Her pink lipsticked mouth was in a pucker.

I sighed and threw up my hands, imitating one of my girls. “Fine. I’ll get in the damned cart, but we’re going to talk about this,” I warned. “I’m not going to be treated this way. You guys aren’t supposed to act like this. Not you guys.” I sat on the black molded plastic seat of the cart. I always felt like an idiot when I used one of these things; they were for old people, handicapped people, not me.

Regrettably, this wasn’t the first time I had used one. In March, I’d come down with a wicked case of bronchitis. I had barely been able to walk from my living room couch, where I had slept, to the bathroom. When I was well enough to go out again, I still couldn’t walk from the car into a store without gasping for breath, so I’d been forced to ride in the damned things.

I twisted the grip on the right side of the T-shaped steering wheel, and the cart lurched forward. I took off at a snail’s pace.

“What are you talking about? Act like what?” Lilly kept her voice low. Lilly didn’t do scenes. Her mother had always insisted on a certain veil of decorum, no matter what. Even with a dead body. I still remember when the police had Lilly’s mother come to the beach house that night to pick her up. She’d been so . . . polite.

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” I hit the gas, full throttle, thinking I could zip away from them, but I was already at full throttle.

Lilly passed me at the “Free Beach Paper!” kiosk between one set of doors and the next. Janine continued to walk beside me. She looked like she was going to say something.

“Zip it,” I warned.

“Everyone get what you want, and we’ll meet at the registers,” Lilly instructed. Inside the market, she handed Janine a plastic shopping basket and took one for herself. She didn’t bother to give one to Aurora, who had stopped to check out sand shovels in a bin next to an artfully arranged table of local melons. “I’m making dinner tonight. Aurora, you’re tomorrow night. When are the girls coming?” She turned back to me.

I was still racing to catch up. The motorized cart had a basket in the front
for all my shopping needs
. I wondered which aisle had handguns. “Monday or Tuesday. Probably Tuesday.”

“I’ll get stuff for chicken tacos for when they come. Of course we’ll do the grill thing for the Fourth. Tonight, I think we’ll have steamed shrimp, fresh broccoli, and baked potatoes.” Lilly floated away in her white patent leather sandals. “Teens like tacos. I’ll get some soda, too.”

I slowly made my way through the fresh produce section, ignoring Janine, who had apparently been appointed my keeper on the outing. Lilly hadn’t assigned me a night to make dinner. I wasn’t a good cook, nor did I like to cook, so that was okay by me. I got two avocados, a sweet onion, and some garlic to make guacamole. One of my few specialties. When I started to stand up to grab a couple of limes, Janine reached over me.

“Two?”

“We better get three.” I settled back into the cart. “Aurora will be ready for a gin and tonic by the time we get back to the house.”

She chuckled, and I couldn’t help myself. Even though I was still annoyed with her, annoyed with all three of them, I smiled. How could I be annoyed with Janine when she laughed at my dumb jokes? We headed down the dairy aisle. I debated getting some almond milk. Mia was lactose intolerant. As I reached for the carton, I realized it was silly to get it. I’d be lucky if my girls stayed more than an hour; Lilly would be lucky if they ate her tacos.

I crawled along next to the open refrigerated shelves in search of some Greek yogurt. Janine was clearly going nowhere, which was okay because I hadn’t had a minute alone with her since she had arrived the afternoon before. I wondered if she wanted to talk about the lawsuit that had been filed against her; we hadn’t really talked about it, even on the phone. But I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. It was like my cancer. She had to be desperate for a few minutes peace without the weight of it on her shoulders. The charges against her were serious. If anything came of the case, it might mean her career.

“So, how are things?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Good.”

I cut my eyes at her. “Your mom?”

“Fine.” She was quiet for a second before she said, “I guess.” She picked up a hunk of cheese she had no intention of buying. “I haven’t really talked to her much. Well, just a little last week. For a minute. You know, when Todd and Christie had the baby. She called to say that Christie was fine and all. That everybody was okay.”

“So you’re an auntie again!” I tried to sound cheerful, but it came out fake. Janine put the cheese back.

“I’m sorry.” I grabbed her hand. Squeezed it and let it go.

Physical shows of affection were tough for Janine. No surprise there. But we’d never let that stop us. Just because it was hard for her didn’t mean she didn’t want it. And sometimes she was okay with a quick hug or a peck on the cheek. It just depended on whether or not it was “a Buddy day.” Today, apparently, wasn’t because she didn’t pull away from me or tell me to fuck off.

I know she feels bad about not knowing her nieces and nephew better than she does. I think, in a different life, Janine would have had kids.

Her brother barely spoke to her, which meant she had very little contact with her nieces and nephew. Todd was an okay guy, but he was more screwed up than Janine would ever be. For various reasons. A big one was that he blamed himself for what happened to his sister. The fact that he had been a little boy, younger than her, didn’t seem to matter. He blamed Janine, on some level, too, for ruining his life. And of course he was the number two fan in the I Hate Buddy McCollister Club. The crazy thing was, he had never faulted their mother. Something Janine still had trouble coming to terms with. It was like an invisible wedge that always stood between them.

“You have a picture of the baby?” I asked.

She reached into the pocket of her knee-length cargo shorts and pulled out her cell phone. She held it out for me to see a wrinkled face burrito-wrapped in a pink blanket. “Megan.”

“She’s cute,” I said.

Janine put the phone back in her pocket without looking at the screen. “We’re talking about me going down for Christmas. We’ll see.”

I nodded and inched forward in the cart.

“I guess it depends. On whether or not I can get off work.” She picked up a package of shredded mozzarella. “You put the word
organic
on something, and it’s fifty percent more expensive.” She dropped it into her basket. She’d be making baked ziti. She always made baked ziti. “I guess it also depends on what’s going on with the lawsuit. The lawyer says we’re looking at December. If anything comes of it.”

So she did want to talk about it. I spotted Lilly crisscrossing in front of us. She was headed our way, but clearly on a mission, sunglasses perched on her head, her grocery list in her hand. I don’t know if she even saw us.

“Any word on the status of the suit?” I asked Janine.

She lifted her shoulder. Let it fall.

At the end of the aisle, I maneuvered the cart around a stack of packages of
natural
toilet paper and started down the next aisle. Was there
un
natural toilet paper?

“You think it will actually go to court?” I asked.

She scowled. “Doubt it. Female perp who filed against me has a rap sheet. Her boyfriend, too. Both for assault, among other things. And this wasn’t his first tussle with cops. Resisting arrest charges were dropped on a previous case, but my lawyer’s got a private investigator on it. I’m not worried.”

I stopped and studied a shelf of beans: kidney, garbanzo, black, cannellini. I had no idea why. Beans weren’t on my list. What I needed was corn chips, to go with my guac. “I’m sure it will all be fine,” I said.

She stood beside me, hands hanging awkwardly at her sides. She stared at the beans. “You read what happened, I guess. Saw the news.”

I reached for a can of pintos. “I did.”

“I didn’t shove her, Mack. I barely touched her. The baby daddy grabbed me, and
he
was the one who knocked her down. All three of us went down. He was big and I was—” Her voice caught in her throat.

I looked up at her, the stupid beans still my hand. A female voice came over the loudspeaker advertising a sale on steamed crabs seasoned with Old Bay. Three dollars each, but just for the next fifteen minutes.

Janine’s gaze was distant, as if she were watching the incident in question. Watching herself. I found myself holding my breath.

“I was pretty scared. There were only two of us. My partner and me. We had backup coming, but—” She stopped and started again, still not looking at me. This time under her breath. “I didn’t touch the pregnant woman. I didn’t touch her even though the bitch put her hands on me.”

The article I had read said the whole incident had been recorded on a cell phone. The newspaper had implied that the video would prove that Senior Corporal McCollister was guilty of the charges filed against her.

“Was there really a video?” I asked.

She nodded. “A guy in the crowd took it right before he took a swing at one of our troopers who was barely out of a training bra.” She took the can of beans from my hand and set them on the shelf.

She met my gaze, and I ached for the pain I saw in her eyes.

“I didn’t do it, Mack. I’m not my father.”

“I know you’re not,” I said, wishing there was something else I could say. Something better.

We were both quiet for a second. I heard the sounds of customers in the store, of life going on around us. Continuing without us, which made me feel tiny and insignificant.

“So what else do you need?” She walked away. “I’m going to get some chips to snack on down on the beach. And some flavored creamer. I like the fake shit. I’ll probably have to go to Wawa.”

I just sat there, watching her walk away. She was pretty, though she’d never thought so. Not model pretty like Aurora or exotic pretty like Lilly, but girl-next-door pretty. I liked her shiny brown hair longer. She never wore makeup, but she had the kind of face that didn’t need it to define her features. She had gorgeous hazel eyes, nice brows, high cheekbones, and suntanned skin that never blemished. And her smile . . . I found myself smiling.

“Lost?” Aurora walked up behind me, her flip-flops slapping on the concrete floor. She was carrying a sand shovel and a big candle, the kind in a jar.

I glanced at the candle. Raised an eyebrow. Except that I don’t have an eyebrow.

“Soy.” She sniffed it. She was wearing short white shorts and a pale yellow T-shirt that hung off one shoulder to show a teal bikini strap. “It says it smells like the beach. It doesn’t smell like the beach to me, but I thought it might be nice in the living room.” She held it under my nose.

“Smells good.” I hit the pedal on the cart, and it inched forward.

She walked beside me and glanced into the basket mounted on the front of the cart. “Anything I should get? For the girls, maybe?”

“I doubt they’ll stay long. They’re pretty busy with work and—”

“Guys,” Aurora interrupted. “And then there’s their tan to worry about.”

“Exactly.” I turned at the end of the aisle, bypassing the next aisle in my search of chips.

“You shouldn’t let that hurt your feelings, them not wanting to spend much time with the
mom
when they’re at the beach for the summer,” Aurora said. “Remember how we were? I’d go days at a time without seeing my mom. And I was living with her.”

“My feelings aren’t hurt.” Which was only half a lie. They were, a little, but Mia and Maura were doing what I wanted them to do; live their lives. They were happy and well-adjusted. They were certainly happier than I had been at their age.

“Should I get, like, some beer or something for them?” Aurora asked. “I could hit the liquor mart next door.”

“For my
underage
daughters?”

She laughed. I didn’t even crack a smile.

“You don’t think it’s better if they have a couple of beers with us?” She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear, and I fought the urge to check the position of my head scarf.

“You
know
they’re drinking,” she went on. “We were drinking at their age. Going to be seniors in high school.” She made a sound. I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of me or of how stupid we had been at that age. Likely both.

“I hope my daughters are a little smarter than we were.” Spotting chips—they’d moved them since the last time I’d been here—I cut in front of Aurora.