For Better, for Worse, Forever by Lurlene McDaniel Page B

care about live. It’s your home. And it’s where you should be.”
    Kelli stared down at the soggy tissue in her hands. “I care about you too.”
    “Then go back to school. Go do all those things I can’t do.”
    “What about these next two weeks?” Kelli switched tacks.
    “We’ll have a good time. Just like we used to have together.”
    Kelli eyed April skeptically. “Right. We’ll have a great time thinking that this is the last time we’ll ever be together.”
    “I don’t like it either,” April said sharply. “But I can’t make it go away. It’s hardenough watching my parents going crazy over it, I don’t need to see you suffering too. I—I need to have fun, Kelli. I need to concentrate on something besides what’s happening to me.”
    This was the argument that persuaded Kelli. April saw acquiescence on her friend’s face. “We’ll go into the city. We’ll spend a few days at my mother’s. Her place is small, but it’s in SoHo and there’s a million things to do, lots of places to go.”
    “We’ll be like Siamese twins,” April said. “Joined at the hip.”
    Kelli gave her a bittersweet look. “Until we’re surgically separated,” she said. “Or whatever it is doctors do with twins who share one heart.”
    Kelli’s mother welcomed them, hurrying off to her job in the mornings and letting the girls sleep in. They roused themselves by midmorning, then set out with an agenda to do only the things they felt like doing. They spent two full days browsing department stores and boutiques, trying on the choicest clothing, the most fashionable wardrobes. On another day they ate lunch in CentralPark on a blanket under a tree, rode the subway from one end of one route to the other, and spent the rest of the rainy day in a giant bookstore in Times Square.
    They spent a day at a trendy beauty salon, where Kelli had her dark hair streaked with bright fuchsia and April considered cutting hers but chickened out at the last minute. She opted instead for a rainbow manicure, having every fingernail painted a different color. They pierced their ears in three more places and bought diamond studs at Tiffany’s for every new hole. They had tattoos put on their ankles. Kelli chose a dolphin and April a hibiscus. “It reminds me of the islands,” she said.
    One night Kelli’s mother brought home a gorgeous arrangement of tropical flowers—orange-hued bird-of-paradise, red and yellow hibiscus, pale pink and lavender orchids, and snow-white gardenias. April sat it on the kitchen table and stared at it all evening. The scent was heavenly, and when she closed her eyes she could almost see the turquoise ocean and smell the salt-tinged air. And she could see Brandon’s face, sun-browned, his hair bleached blond, his eyes as blue as the sky.
    April told Kelli about her love of sailing, describing the sound the wind makes as it billows out the sails, the sharp snap the nylon makes when the boat comes about. “That settles it,” Kelli said. “Whenever I get married, I’m going to demand a honeymoon in St. Croix.”
    “Lots of people do.” April told her about the wedding gazebo she’d seen with Brandon.
    “Sounds like heaven.”
    “Just like heaven.” Afterward, April grew quiet, and that night she went to bed early, choosing not to stay up and watch the video she and Kelli had rented that afternoon.
    As their two weeks together passed, April began to experience more frequent episodes of vertigo. One day she couldn’t even get out of bed. Kelli sat by her bedside, and they played cards and board games. April kept losing her concentration and had to give it up when she started having double vision. Kelli asked if she should call April’s parents, but April refused adamantly. The following day April seemed fine.
    Two days before Kelli was scheduled to return to college, they stayed at April’s for onefinal sleepover. “I’m going to miss you,” April told Kelli in the privacy of April’s bedroom