As Close as Sisters by Colleen Faulkner

My gaze met hers. Her eyes were brown, but there were golden specks in them. Like a lion’s eyes. I saw her that way. A tawny lion. “Which is why I’m asking.”
    We were both quiet for a minute.
    I was close to all three of my girls, the sisters I never had: McKenzie, Lilly, and Aurora. No one relationship was more or less important. How could it be? It would be like saying one arm or one leg was more important to my body. To function, to live. But my relationship with Aurora was unique. I didn’t get her most of the time. She didn’t think like me. She didn’t think like anyone I’d ever known. But she was the one who saved me from that hell that was Buddy McCollister. I believed in my heart of hearts that Aurora saved my life. And for that reason, in my eyes, she could do no wrong. There was nothing she could say that I would criticize. I loved her more than I loved myself. Which she said was wrong.
    “Italy was okay,” Aurora said slowly. “It got . . . a little crazy.”
    I could tell there was more to the story. She actually looked worried . . . or scared. Which seemed impossible because Aurora wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything.
    I glanced at the door and shifted the duffel on my shoulder. “I guess I should . . .”
    “Yeah.”
    I let Fritz lead the way.

5
    McKenzie
    I couldn’t stop smiling. They were all here. We were all here. Sometimes I felt like I spent my whole life just passing time, waiting to be with Aurora, Janine, and Lilly again. Which was silly, of course. I had a life separate from them. Sort of. And even when we were apart, we were still together.
    Later, on my laptop, I’d record my impressions of this first evening together. I would not only be responsible for the when, what, and how of the month we spent together, but also the why. The thoughts. Those expressed and those that bubbled just under the surface, waiting to spill over.
    As I looked from one face to the next, I wondered what exactly we were to each other. I mean, I knew, but . . . how did I express it?
    Friends. Sisters. None of the words I can think of really describe what we were. How did we get here? Could we have ever gotten to this place, found this closeness, without being together for days, weeks on end?
    And then there was the tragedy that has shaped and reshaped our lives over and over again. Like it or not, there was no denying that Buddy had brought us closer together. This house, this refuge that was hell and heaven at the same time, had made us more than the sum of our parts.
    Pretty deep thinking for a Friday night.
    We sat on the front porch, the parts of me: Janine, Lilly, Aurora. The sun was setting behind us, behind the house. Dinner was done, and the plates were piled in the sink for someone to deal with later. Now we sat, lined up along the porch in our Adirondack chairs. But not our own. I was in Aurora’s white chair, she was in Lilly’s pink one, Lilly was in Janine’s blue one, and Janine was in mine. Fritz sat on the edge of the stairs, gazing out at the ocean, beyond the beach, the same way we are. I couldn’t tell if he was sitting vigil or considering making a run for the water’s edge.
    Lilly was telling a funny story about being pumped up on IVF baby-making hormones, fighting a man for a parking space at the Annapolis Mall. It was a long story with a lot of gesturing. Janine and Aurora were laughing with her. I looked from one face to the next. I never realized how much I missed them, missed us, until we were all together again. Why was that? Was it because the pain would be too great if we fully realized it? Could we physically not survive if we felt the true depth of our desolation when we were apart?
    I was so happy to be here with them. Who was I kidding? I was happy to be here at all.
    I took a slow, deep breath, the way I had learned to do in my yoga-for-healing class. I inhaled the salty air. Oddly enough, my breathing seemed to be a little better this evening. I couldn’t