Free As Close as Sisters by Colleen Faulkner

Words my Japanese mother always said to me before she turned out the light.
    “Sweet dreams,” McKenzie echoed.

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