“It is,” Jacquie pauses, “But I’ve got a few members of the family looking a bit worse for wear, so maybe I’ll be back sooner than you think.”
Natasha honks with laughter at Jacquie’s unexpectedly dark humor. It’s a turn-on.
“You could always visit,” Jacquie starts, “But you said you can’t sleep away from home. That might be a problem.” She laughs as if she thinks Natasha might have been joking.
Natasha thinks of ways she could try to make it work. Before she’s even really completed the thought, she tells herself that it’s not a viable solution. Jacquie’s lovely. She’s only 22 and she’s already got a real job, with a pension plan and a company car. Natasha can only see disappointment ahead, on both sides.
Natasha gives Jacquie’s hand a squeeze on the seat between them. She takes a deep breath, “I’ll catch up with you at your next funeral. I’ll wear a hat with a veil, red lipstick and a fur coat with nothing underneath.”
Jacquie squeezes Natasha’s hand back and gives her a nod of understanding. Jacquie doesn’t ask for Natasha’s full name to find her on Facebook, doesn’t ask for her cell number. The cab rounds the corner to Natasha’s street, and Natasha leans in for a quick kiss before she gets out of the car. Jacquie returns the kiss enthusiastically, and Natasha feels a pang of something like regret as she shuts the car door.
In Chicago, Sawyer Martinez’s eyes snap open. There’s a crashing noise from downstairs and her heart starts thumping until she realizes it must just be Mikaela returning home from the club. She hears the jangle of Mikaela’s keys and her cursing as she forgets there’s a tiny step down to their kitchen. Sawyer checks her phone and groans when she sees that it’s gone four. She’s getting up at six, and there’s no point going back to sleep now. She looks through the slit between her curtains and sees the sky lightening. There’s something comforting about this time of day, when the world seems full of possibilities.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
✤✤✤
Sawyer often thinks about the promise she made to herself at Christmas to help Lucia make some more connections. The Boston Women’s Art Centre has a good spring; Lucia directs a short play which gets great reviews, and Sawyer attends a scratch night that shows great promise. It’s Summer before Sawyer manages to organize some work experience for Lucia. Florence is reluctant at first, but Sawyer sends over links to Lucia’s blog, Lucia’s poetry and burlesque videos on YouTube and a selection of articles about productions that Lucia has commissioned for BWAC. Florence eventually says that she doesn’t have an Assistant Director on this project, that it would be handy to have someone on board for research and looking at things with a fresh eye.
By contrast, Mikaela is thrilled. She texts Sawyer back, in all caps, to say that she only has three weeks to make over thirty dresses for an opera that she is costuming. Sawyer tells Mikaela that Lucia’s passion is corsetry, and Mikaela sends back three full lines of angel emojis.
The night before Lucia flies out to Chicago, Sawyer and Natasha head to bed when it’s barely dark. They're getting up extra early to take Lucia to the airport, and Natasha is looking up facts about Chicago on her phone to text to her.
"I'm quite jealous of Lucia, you know,” Natasha says.
"Why? Her fingers will be bleeding when Mikaela is done with her, and Florence isn't easy to work with either. She's used to being a big fish in a small pond, bossing you and Gillian about. It'll do her some good to -"
"Nah," Natasha interrupts, "Just living in Chicago. You seem to love it so much. It would be so interesting to walk the streets you walked, visit the places you used to love going."
"We could go some time," suggests Sawyer casually. She tries to dampen down the feeling of excitement in her stomach. They have been saving the vouchers that she got Natasha for her birthday last year. Natasha occasionally cuts out a picture from a magazine to put on the fridge; some Japanese vase or a picture of an English cottage in the snow. But when Sawyer asks if she would like to use her voucher to actually book a flight, she prevaricates.
Natasha strips off her tank top and gets into bed beside Sawyer.
"Yeah, let's see how Lucia gets on. Maybe she’ll stay and we’ll all move back to Chicago!"
Sawyer dreams of fucking Natasha in her old apartment, on the old mattress that was unbearably sunken on the left side.
"So are you driving, or is Mom?" Lucia hollers across their small front yard. She's only got a small carry-on case, and it perfectly matches her travel outfit. It is fifties inspired with skin tight trousers and a nipped in waist.
"Shh," hisses Sawyer, "You'll wake the neighbours. And don't ever fucking call Natasha Mom, that's disgusting. Get in the car."
It's too early for Lucia's performing. It's too early for Natasha's chirpy mood and too early for Natasha's tuneless singing in the car.
Lucia sends them a selfie of her arriving at ORD. She's staying with Mikaela, working with her for ten days, and then spending two weeks with Florence.
Lucia doesn’t text them for a few days, but Mikaela posts a Boomerang on her Instagram. It’s Lucia at the sewing machine, feeding material carefully under the needle while throwing her head back
