We speak our own language, coded by a nonsensical concoction of joint memories and inside jokes and references to niche pop culture quotes that no one else would ever remember. When it’s just the two of us, I could almost believe we’re back in the sticker-adorned bunk bed of our childhood room; the wooden planks on the top bunkdented with teeth marks because for some inexplicable reason he liked biting them. It feels like nothing’s changed since those days, though of course, everything has.
We reminisce about the numerous ridiculous experiences we had as children in our parents’ very lax care all the way home. I expect him to have given up on trying to get me out of London, but he brings it up again as we’re leaving Stockwell station.
‘You wouldn’t have to come on one of the backpacking trips, you know. I’m often offered other types of trips too.’ We make our way across the road. ‘I can imagine you on a city break somewhere. I think you’d like it more than you’d expect.’
‘I wholeheartedly disagree.’ I’m on a proverbial no-fly list. My name’ll flag on the system the second I do something fun like go on holiday, and I’m sure fate will come my way to take what I owe. Max groans at my response and I try to shift the topic of conversation to someone else. ‘I reckon Josie would take you up on the offer, if you’ve got any luxury hotels on the cards.’
‘I’ll convince you one day, Col. But wait, speak of the devil.’ He points at a figure slightly ahead of us on the pavement, accompanied by a canine-shaped shadow. He calls Josie’s name, yet again drawing the attention of everyone around us. I really need to start hanging out with quieter people.
A smile spreads across her face as she turns and her free arm moves around Max in a hug. ‘God, I’ve missed my favourite Monroe sibling.’
‘I love that we can be so honest with each other,’ I say, stepping onto the road so the three of them can take up the whole width of the pavement.
‘Me too. But in the spirit of honesty, please don’t tell me how hideous this outfit is,’ Josie says, motioning towards her bottom half. ‘I spilled coffee all over mycream trousers.Had to borrow these sweatpants from Alina’s gym bag.’
‘Looks horrific,’ I say, marvelling at how she’s made a pair of trackies look like an intentional part of her outfit.
‘How were the Highlands, Max?’ Josie asks as she pours one, two, three, fo—oh god, how many more—shots’ worth of rum into a tall glass vessel that I’m wholly convinced is a vase, but she’s dubbed The Cocktail Carafe.
‘Some of us have work tomorrow, Josie. Including you.’
She ignores me and adds more rum.
‘Amazing, it’s one of my new favourite places.’ Max is sitting on one of the stools, leaning his elbows on the breakfast bar. ‘I was telling Ava she should come with me someday.’
Josie erupts into laughter at this. ‘On a trip to thecountryside? Your sister?’ She actually has to stop what she’s doing to dab at her eyes.
‘Pot, kettle, Josephine?’ I grab three glasses from a cupboard and go to the freezer for ice. ‘Can you even remember the last time you stayed anywhere that wasn’t a five-star hotel?’
‘Please, I could rough it if I wanted.’ She opens the next bottle. I don’t even know what spirit it is and at this point I’m too scared to ask. ‘I just have a very extensive skincare regime that I simply could not perform out in the wilderness.’
‘Oh, well inthatcase,’ I mumble, rummaging through a drawer. ‘Where are the straws?’
‘If they’re not at the back of the cutlery drawer, they’re in the one with the measuring cups,’ Josie replies. ‘Actually, can you grab those for me?’
I hand her the measuring cups and she uses them to measureout the remainder of the liquids for her concoction. Over the years I’ve learnt Josie’s drinks are not for the fainthearted. For someone so small, the woman sure can hold her alcohol.
‘How’s Alina?’ Max asks, flattening the pizza boxes to his left and bringing them to the recycling bin.
‘She’s really good,’ Josie says, a smile playing on her lips. Most of her and Alina’s relationship has been long-distance, and they’re only now living in the same city. She dips a straw into the vase-stroke-carafe and tries the drink, nodding appreciatively, not a wince in sight. ‘We’re working together at the moment, which is kind of weird, but fun? I’d never worked with her in person before and it’s unbelievable how talented she is. But what about you, how’s your love life? Weren’t you seeing that woman from Leeds?’
My ears prick up at the question. We aren’t those TV-show siblings who share every minute detail of their love lives. We have an unspoken agreement that started as teenagers to not bring it up, and I guess it stuck. But I’m well aware of his dating style. We went to the same school, after all. And he’s not exactly quiet on social media.
He grimaces when he replies, ‘Yeah, no. That didn’t end great. Messy. My fault, obviously.’ We pour out our drinks and head to the living area. ‘I told myself it was because I’m too busy for anything serious, but realistically it’s probably due to the fact I am fundamentally emotionally unavailable.’
‘Must be genetic,’ Josie says, taking a delicate sip of her drink.
‘Twins,’ Max sings. He holds his hand out for a fist bump, which I return with a nod.
‘The two of you need therapy.’
She’s joking, but even if the NHS waiting list weren’t seven years long, there’s no way I could take resources away from someone else who actually needs it.
I take a giant gulp of my drink as Max settles in the armchairand replies, ‘Already on it, Josie. But there’s just so much to go through that I’m not even close to touching on romance yet. I’m saving that for a slow day.’
A few hours later, I’m more than a little drunk, but my stomach hurts from laughing. ‘And then,’ Max says, ‘when he finally got out of the water he was like, “guys, guys, I think I’ve got amnesia”. He meanthypothermia.’
Tears stream down mine and Josie’s cheeks as Max regales us with stories of the wild mishaps on his trips. He’s been drinking water for a while but somehow maintains the energy of someone seven drinks in; a trait I am particularly envious of.