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That had been just before Easter. By early June Adele was back in the hospital, but during those few precious weeks they’d managed to check off some of the items on their list.
“Start at the beginning.” Adele turned to look at her, the bright red silk scarf protecting her sensitive scalp brushing against the pillow. “Let’s review...what we’ve done...so far.”
Taking a deep breath, she started reading. “Number one—dance beneath the Eiffel Tower. I did that back in college the year I studied abroad,” Vanessa said, thankful she had a photograph to honor the event as she technically didn’t remember doing so thanks to generous amounts of wine that night. “Number two—swim in the Pacific Ocean. You did that when you were in college.”
Adele smiled, but remained silent.
“Number three—get a tattoo.” Letting go, she flipped her hand and laid it side by side next her friend’s, their matching interlocking heart tattoos visible on their inner wrists. “Number four—see a Broadway show. By ourselves.”
They’d done both on a last-minute road trip to New York City that Adele had insisted on in May not long after they’d found their long forgotten list.
“Shouldn’t have taken us...until age twenty-five to accomplish—” her friend rasped “—either of those.”
“Considering how unhappy your mother was with us for taking off without telling her, not to mention our permanent souvenirs, we’re lucky she didn’t ground us when we got home like she used to do when we were kids.”
“I think my mom was more worried because of me being in remission. Your father never said a word.”
Vanessa wasn’t even sure her father had even realized she’d left the city, much less inked her body. “Okay, let’s see. We did go to Disney World on our senior class trip so that counted for number five. I was lucky enough to visit the White House and shake hands with the president during an art exhibit a few years back. Number six. I attempted to learn to scuba dive while visiting Australia the summer before my mother—well, before she got sick, so that covers numbers seven and eight.”
“That’s right. So you swam in the Pacific Ocean, too.”
“Well, technically, it was the Tasman Sea. It doesn’t count. So, other than the first eight, we haven’t managed to accomplish the rest of the 2001 list.” While Vanessa was sure that flying among the clouds (and not in an airplane!) was a childish wish that would never come true, she guessed moving out west, learning to ride a horse and the last goal, kissing a cowboy, were still possible. At least for her.
She swallowed hard again, but the unfairness of it all kept the lump firmly in place. “You know, judging from the last few items, I think we watched too many old Westerns back when we were twelve.”
“I always liked John Wayne. The strong, silent type,” Adele said. “So how many...do we have so far now? With the new ones included?”
“The original twelve and the eight we added while in New York.” Vanessa read through the rest of the list. When her friend had insisted on updating it with new goals that weekend, they’d truly believed both of them would have time to accomplish things like going skinny-dipping, being part of a flash mob or dancing in the rain. Knowing now that her friend was never going to be able to accomplish any of them... “I think twenty is a good number.”
“No. Need four more. Twelve old and twelve new.”
“Well, number twenty is to see an active volcano. I don’t know how we’re—” Vanessa’s voice caught again, but she pushed on. “How we’re going to top that.”
“Number twenty-one—take a bubble bath...with a man.”
She couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s words as she propped her sketchbook on the edge of Adele’s bed, using it as a base to write on. “How do you know I haven’t done that already?”
“Because you would’ve told me. Best friends tell each other everything.”
Vanessa nodded. “You’re right. And I think that might top the volcano experience.”
“Number twenty-two—kiss...Prince Charming and number twenty-three...” Adele’s voice fell to a whisper, barely heard over the steady beeping from the row of machines on the far side of her bed. “...have a baby. Or two. Or three.”
Vanessa blinked rapidly against the sting of tears, struggling to see clearly enough to add them to the list. Adele’s words brought back the memory of how each of them, being only children, had always wished for younger siblings. That shared secret, revealed on the day they first met when Adele’s mother had come to work for Vanessa’s as a social secretary, had sealed their lifelong friendship. She still remembered the afternoon she’d returned from a ballet lesson and found a scrawny girl, her flaming red hair in braids and wearing a hand-me-down dress with dirt on her knees, sitting on the silk tufted bench in the grand foyer of Vanessa’s home reading Little Women.
