monster, Natasha.”

“Just tell her you want your own fucking tiramisu,” Natasha says. She suggests, “When we go in, let’s swap so you’re by Ursula and Mom, and I’m with Dad and Alisha.”

“Are you sure? I had some questions about Hong Kong that I wanted to ask Ursula, it would be good to speak to her for longer.”

“Sure, I want to hear Alisha talk to Dad about the guy she’s fucking without revealing that he’s married.”

“He’s married?” Sawyer sounds scandalized.

Natasha laughs and pushes Sawyer back though the door of the restaurant with her hand on the small of her back.

When they get back to the table, Alisha urgently ushers them to sit down. She claps her hands together and declares, “Right! I think we should share, like, a random story about Princess. Or our favorite story, or whatever. Sawyer, you go first. Then we’ll work around the table and come back to me.” Alisha rests her head on her palms and smiles at Sawyer.

Natasha has always privately thought of Alisha as the most attractive of herself and her sisters. Alisha’s nose is smaller and less obstructive than Natasha’s, and Alisha’s eyes look clearer and greener than Natasha’s when they’re framed by her dark hair. She looks particularly pretty tonight, and Natasha wonders whether Sawyer notices that too.

Sawyer rubs her lips together in thought, and then turns to meet Natasha’s eyes with a smile that tugs her mouth to the side.

“Er,” Sawyer hesitates, “I think I’ll go for the first time I met you. I remember you wearing that baggy red sweater and you smelt like one of those hippy-shops. And I thought, here we go. You can see she’s a yoga teacher!”

Alisha laughs delightedly and drums her fingers on the table with excitement.

Sawyer continues, “You were waiting for the class, and as they came in you greeted everyone by name. You kept on bouncing around, your hair flopping everywhere. The whole class seemed so excited to see you, and I remember thinking that I wanted you to remember me in the way you obviously remembered everyone else that had been there before.”

Natasha’s never heard that before and Sawyer blushes in the telling of it, twists her napkins around her fingers.

“Right, someone else tell a story!” Sawyer says quickly, ducking her head.

Natasha’s mom takes over, giving Sawyer’s hand a light squeeze before she starts speaking.

“Well, Sawyer. You see, when I first had the girls I took a part-time contract at work so that I could spend enough time at home. There was this golden time when Ursula had just started kindergarten and it was just Natasha and I at home.” Her mom pauses, “And a little later on, Natasha started getting so shy. But when she was learning to talk we couldn’t get her to shut up! She’d follow me around, padding around on her little feet and chattering away, telling me little stories about the birds. I always knew that she would grow up with her own, unique point of view.”

Sawyer smiles broadly, “That’s the sweetest thing I could possibly imagine!”

Ursula takes over, “Well, I remember a slightly different Natasha. I remember the bitch that instigated the Great Hair Dryer War of 1995!”

Natasha honks with laughter, the story is well-worn within the family. Even Sawyer knows it. It had ended in the sisters being given separate bedrooms, and Ursula being allowed a lock on her door.

“But also, when I first moved out to Hong Kong and Nat phoned me in tears and asked if she could come and stay with me,” Ursula starts again, and Natasha freezes. Her laughter dries in her mouth. She knows what story this is, and it’s not one she’d like Sawyer to hear.

“Well, we ended up speaking for hours. It was the most honest conversation that I can remember having with anyone in my adult life. It reminded me of the time before the Great Hair Dryer War, when we shared bunk beds and spent all night talking,” Ursula rounds it off.

It’s not exactly the same story that Natasha remembers. Natasha remembers talking urgently into the receiver as fast as her lips and teeth would let her. But she does remember her sister listening and reassuring her, telling her about the weather in Hong Kong and how she could see the South China Sea from her new bedroom.

Natasha’s dad leans forward and takes his glasses off, “I’m tempted to say that it gives me great joy to think about you now, when you seem so content. But I also want to embarrass you in front of your woman here. So, I’ll tell Sawyer about when you were small, and we used to collect leaves for your scrapbook. We’d usually go to the Arnold, and you’d pick up the muddiest, most raggedy leaves for your collection. I can still see you now, stomping through the park in your red rubber boots. When we got home I’d give you a step-stool so you could stand at the sink and brush your leaves clean with an old toothbrush”

Sawyer holds her hands in front of her mouth, “I can’t take it, that’s too cute.”

“I’ll tell mine now!” Alisha proclaims, then waits for everyone to turn towards her before speaking. Sawyer is the last to turn, refilling her and Natasha’s glasses with water.

“I remember when Natasha and I were still doing gymnastics together before she wimped out and heartlessly abandoned me. That girl – Oh! Miranda Morgan? Yes, that was her. Miranda was the first girl we knew to really blossom. You could pretty much always see

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