They both started to laugh. They had the same high-pitched laugh, the same wide-mouthed smile. They both had their mother’s facial features—her nose, her eyes. Daphne’s skin was darker because her father had been Black; Sasha’s father had been white. Daphne used to joke, “I’m the seventy-two percent dark chocolate, and you’re the yummier milk chocolate.”
Jay came into the kitchen and said, “All this giggling must mean little sis is in the house.”
Sasha loved Jay. He and Daphne had been high school sweethearts—a modern rarity. When they’d started dating, Sasha was only ten. She’d grown up with Jay. He was like a brother to her.
“So what’s sis been up to? Still trying for the highest IQ in the world?” he teased.
She play-hit him in the arm.
“Oh, silly me. You already have the highest IQ in the world. Apologies.”
She play-hit him again.
Sasha’s intelligence had never not been a part of her identity. She started kindergarten at age four and was reading chapter books intended for eight-year-olds by the time she turned five. She skipped first grade and went right to second, and she probably could have skipped another grade somewhere along the way, but her mother had wanted to be sure she could legally drive by the time she graduated high school.
“What about you, though?” she asked Jay. “What’s new with you guys?”
Before he could answer, Daphne came into the room carrying a giant tray with their three bowls of chili and little bowls with fixings—cheddar cheese, chopped green onions, corn chips, sour cream. Jay leaped from the couch to help her and set the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“I’ll tell you what’s new. Hubby here got himself a promotion,” Daphne said. She gave Jay a kiss on the cheek before lowering herself onto the couch in the slow way that pregnant women do.
Jay was a firefighter at Seattle’s Station 8 in Queen Anne.
“Oh my god, that’s amazing,” Sasha said.
“He gets a fancy title. Driver engineer,” Daphne said.
“That’s awesome, Jay. Really. I’m so happy for you guys,” Sasha said.
Jay gave Sasha and Daphne their chili and then sat back in the armchair with his own. They took their first bites, making the requisite “mmm” sounds in appreciation of Daphne’s culinary talents.
“You guys still don’t want to know the sex of the baby?” Sasha asked.
“One of us would really like to know,” Jay said, pointing a thumb back at himself, “but one of us wants asurprise.”
Sasha made a face like she’d smelled something bad. She hated surprises in life. Even the good ones were unsettling.
“I think it’ll help during labor to not know the sex. I’ll be so excited to find out,” Daphne said.
“To each their own,” Jay said.
“I could never wait to find out,” Sasha said.
Daphne looked at her with a soft smile. “That’s the difference between us, sis. You want all the knowledge. I’m happy not having it.”
Daphne reached over and put her hand on Sasha’s hand. Something about the gesture made Sasha want to cry. Daphne understood her in a way nobody else did. That had to be the crux of true love—feeling seen.
Sasha shook off her sentimentality and said, “Damn, Daph, this chili batch is really good.”
“I’ve got leftovers in a Tupperware for you,” Daphne said to Sasha. “Don’t let me forget to give it to you.”
“Homegirl has gotten so forgetful,” Jay said with a laugh.
“Pregnancy brain,” Daphne said.
“The struggle is real,” Jay said.
“You got my email about the shower?” Daphne asked.
