Page 113 of The Stranger

“Good. That’s good.” My words come out spiky.

“We’re thinking we might meet up with them so Daisy can have a little cuz time.”

“Sounds like a plan.” One I’m glad I’m not there for. “So?”

“What?”

“Go on. Spit it out.”

“Fine.” She gives a hard roll of her eyes. “I want to run something personal by you, doctor in the family and all.”

So bandage slapping is okay when it suits you?”

Her mouth flattens into a line.

“Fine,” I say. Complain. “What is it?”

The screen of my phone blurs color, and I think that was a flash of nostril as she plonks her phone down with a clunk. A flash of white and I’m suddenly looking at a cotton T-shirt. One she appears to be wearing.

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About these!” Her hand comes into view, palm facing the ceiling as she does this gameshow thing. And tonight’s star prize? Lavender’s booooobs!

“They look like boobs.” Only smaller, I mentally add.

“And?”

Maybe she wants me to read the slogan: “I may be a handful but so are my boobs.” I give a little snort. “Cute.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that only one of those things is true.”

“Rude!” Another blur and her face fills the screen again. “Also, mean!”

“You are a handful,” I reason. “Even for giant-sized hands.”

“Fuck off!” she retorts, her tone aggrieved.

“It was a compliment. My sister, she’s all earth mother at the minute and hotshot businesswoman the next. But always with lady balls the size of⁠—”

“I’ll have you know I’ve gone up a whole cup size during the first trimester alone.”

I open my mouth but think better of my response. This is what she wanted, boob validation? “Congratulations?” I offer carefully and feeling like a tit myself for saying so.

“Thank you.”

“You do know I’m not going into plastic surgery, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t asking you to make them bigger. They already are. Can’t you tell?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not staring at your tits. I can’t believe this is what you’ve called me for,” I add in a mutter.

“If I can’t consult my sister—my doctor sister—about my breasts—then who can I?”

“I dunno, your husband?”