As Close as Sisters Read Online Free PDF Page B

have stayed on the yacht. Not with the human sharks. They were way too coked out. I had let things go too far. Kinky sex was one thing. That, what they wanted, was another.
    I could have died on that boat. It had been smarter to risk it with the sharks and the boat propellers.
    McKenzie was going to die.
    If I had died on the yacht, would McKenzie have been spared?
    Stroke. Glide. Stroke. Glide.
    I did it again and again and again.
    I wondered how far I’d swum. How much time has passed. McKenzie would be pissed if she woke up and found me gone from the house in the middle of the night. Maybe even scared.
    But she knows that I have to swim. I swim or die.

3
    McKenzie
    M y one-piece swimsuit (dark blue—I was living on the wild side two summers ago when I bought blue instead of black) was a little baggy in the butt and boobs, but I had put it on. It was the only one I had.
    As I tugged on my University of Delaware ball cap, I wondered if I should get a new suit. There were plenty of boutiques and swim shops in Albany Beach. There was a nice boardwalk; smaller than in Rehoboth, but it might be fun to go shopping one day. The four of us, for old times’ sake. But that would be a waste of money, wouldn’t it? I always bought good clothing, intending to wear it for years. I wasn’t buying new clothes these days.
    It was ten forty when I walked into the kitchen. I’d slept in. Bad night. Aurora and I didn’t go to bed until one. Then, like every night, my alarm went off on my phone at three a.m. and I took my drug trial medication. It had to be taken on an empty stomach at least an hour after I’ve eaten, with no food for an additional hour. Two doses, twelve hours apart. I fell asleep right after taking the harmless-looking little beige pills, but I woke an hour later feeling as if I’d had three bottles of wine instead of three glasses. The bed had been spinning. The waves of nausea washed over me. I didn’t puke, which was a nice surprise. But I was deathly nauseated. It was so bad that the thought went through my head that if I walked (or more likely, dragged myself ) out into the ocean, I’d be too weak to swim. I could just let myself go under....
    Wouldn’t my mother love that phone call?
    I’d never do it, of course. I wasn’t suicidal. This cancer was going to kill me, but I’d fight it to my last breath. My last glass of wine. The last smiles of my daughters. The hugs of my friends who should have been born my sisters instead of the dud I got.
    There was fresh coffee in a French press on the counter. Aurora. It smelled heavenly. A dark roast. She’d ground the beans this morning; the grinder was still on the counter, surrounded by little brown specks. But I didn’t dare have a cup. Coffee doesn’t stay down first thing in the morning. I needed tea, lots of hot, sweet tea. I added water to the teakettle and sat on a stool at the counter and waited for it to whistle.
    I wondered where Aurora was. She wasn’t in the house or out on the deck. I called to her when I got up. A morning swim maybe. Or she might be hitchhiking to Mexico City. Either way, she wouldn’t leave a note.
    I would never leave the house without leaving a note. Maybe it was the mommy in me.
    The kettle whistled, and I took a tea bag from the box I’d brought. Barry’s Irish Breakfast. Janine had sent it to me. I smiled. She’d sent me four boxes. She knew how I loved my morning tea.
    “Mom, pick up. Mom, pick up,” my phone chirped.
    My daughters set my ringtones.
    I checked the screen before answering. I heard the same ringtone no matter which girl was calling. An image of Mia, sticking her tongue out at me, was on my phone screen. “Hey,” I said.
    “Hey.”
    “So what are you guys up to today, Mia?”
    “It’s Maura.”
    I rolled my eyes. “I told you guys you can’t do this to me. You know I can’t tell your voices apart on the phone. My phone says Mia’s calling. I expect Mia .”
    “I can’t find my phone,”