‘How is this helpful again?’ I frowned, flipping open the pamphlet for the hundredth time.
‘How is it not?’ Sabrina asked excitedly.
‘Well, it’s expensive… isn’t it?’
‘Not massively,’ she shook her head. ‘I think you’ll be surprised.’
‘Why isn’t that in the brochure?’
‘The price?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘I’m interested in this community nursing provider servicing Adelaide patients because of their pamphlet-designing skills.’
‘Well,’ I sighed, tossing it onto the kitchen counter. ‘I’m just not convinced.’
‘Right,’ she said quickly, rushing over to slide into the stool next to mine. ‘What are you worried about?’
‘Community nursing?’ I screwed up my face. ‘What does that even mean?’
‘It’s just like, nursing outside of hospitals and stuff,’ she said. ‘Don’t focus on the terminology, focus on how much help it’ll give her.’
‘She’s gonna hate this,’ I said with a sigh. ‘As soon as we bring up the word “nurse”, that’s it, we’re out of the will.’
‘Since when do you care about the will?’ Sabrina joked.
‘I’m telling you, that creepy painting at the back of her closet is worth something, there’s no way my sister is getting it.’
‘Right,’ she rolled her eyes, grinning. ‘Noted. Now back to this—’
‘What’s the NDIS?’ I interrupted her.
‘What?’
‘I kept seeing it on the brochure,’ I said, reaching out to grab it again. ‘Says that they’re a reputable NDIS provider over and over again.’
‘Just means they can help people on the NDIS,’ Sabrina explained. ‘Have you not heard of the NDIS?’
‘I don’t follow politics,’ I shrugged.
‘That’s not actually a character trait,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, it’s the government program to make sure disabled people can get all the help they need.’
‘Ooh boy,’ I chuckled. ‘You want to throw the word “nurse” and “disabled” into one conversation with my mother? What you’ve just outlined is the cause of your death.’
‘She’s not that irrational,’ Sabrina protested.