Eventually, Sawyer had brought it up herself. They had just returned home from a meal out with Mikaela and Lucia. Mikaela had spent most of the evening making faces at a Latina baby on a nearby table, eventually going over to dandle her and speak softly to her in Spanish. Lucia had said something coy about how her and Mikaela were 'evaluating their options', and then moved conversation on.
In their kitchen, Natasha was enjoying mocking the idea of a baby when Sawyer had suddenly interrupted Natasha. She'd been slow in explaining what she wanted. So slow that Natasha's stomach started to drop. But Sawyer had eventually, haltingly explained that she hadn't changed her mind about children, but thought they might both find it rewarding to guide a teenager to independent adulthood.
Since they had bought their first home together, Sawyer and Natasha were selective about who and what they brought into it. Natasha liked spending afternoons in their solarium, working through a flow on her mat, while Sawyer tinkered with a set box or sped through a lightweight novel. They liked arguing about politics with Mikaela and Lucia late into the evening on their big wooden table. The idea of their home being a safe respite to someone was something that appealed to Natasha as much as Sawyer.
So they'd done some further research, filled out the online forms and completed the mandatory training. They'd both passed three different levels of criminal background check.
One afternoon, Natasha had come home to find Sawyer standing on their bed, drilling a new fire alarm into the ceiling.
"We need to have one in every room, this booklet says," Sawyer tells Natasha, "We can't fail the assessment over something so stupid."
Natasha had passed her the batteries and then bundled up the blankets and shaken them out of the window to get rid of the dust.
Now, in this airless grey room they are finally at the last hurdle.
"Can you please tell me a little about your job Miss…, Ma'am?"
"I run a small business offering a range of holistic and person centered therapeutic interventions. My services include counseling, massage, yoga etc. I do some community based work but also have a private client base, mostly sourced online or through word of mouth in the South End, Somerville and Cambridge area," She's learnt her lines well.
He nods seriously.
"And you, Miss Martinez?"
"I'm a self-employed lighting designer and technician in the Boston area, occasionally touring."
"Are you away from home a lot?"
Sometimes, but Natasha's parents live in Boston and we have a large community of friends - " Sawyer stumbles over her words a bit.
Natasha picks the thread up, "With our online application we submitted a list of the dates Sawyer has not been home for the last six months,"
"Yes, yes, I see. Have you ever seen The Lion King?"
"The Lion King?"
"The Lion King. It's about, you know, little Simba and Nala and Scar. There are all these people being animals. Some of them have puppets, some of them are on stilts! I saw it in New York years ago. Anyway, if you like theatre, you'll definitely like The Lion King."
Sawyer coughs loudly into her fist.
"Yes," Sawyer grinds out, "I love The Lion King."
"Marvelous! Anyway, that all looks tremendously regular. I'll get something in the post in due course. Awesome to meet you, have a great day now!"
They emerge blinking onto the pavement. Cars rush by. People are walking with dogs and prams. Outside the T-stop someone is playing the guitar.
Sawyer takes Natasha for churros at a tiny place she says that Mikaela and Lucia told her about. They sit in the window on high bar stools and eat out of recycled cardboard trays. Sawyer swipes away the dulce de leche from the corner of Natasha's mouth with her thumb, then follows it with an open-mouthed kiss right where the pedestrians are walking past.
Their letter comes seven tense days after the appointment, approving Sawyer and Natasha as interim foster carers for aged out young people.
Weeks pass, and they don’t receive any calls. Sawyer calls the office and speaks to a social worker that attempts to explain to her that there have not yet been any suitable young people. The programme’s funds are limited, and they only want to place young people that are best placed to make the most of the opportunity.
“So you’re telling me that you’re not selecting the young people based on their need but on how easy they are to work with?”
Natasha can hear the social worker stuttering to explain further to Sawyer. She keeps on stopping and starting her sentences, and Sawyer is railroading all over her.
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” Sawyer says. Natasha knows she does mean to be rude. “But we signed up for a reason. If there’s a child
