Sawyer nods, "You're a good soul. Come on, let's get some food before I need to head to the theatre."
In the gift-shop Natasha happily spends $5 on a magnet of Duchamp's Fountain for Sawyer, to repay her for the one she got Natasha from The Met. If there's anyone else that would share her glee at a small, magnetic picture of a urinal to stick on a refrigerator, it's Sawyer.
Before they leave they take a last trip to the restroom. After they've washed their hands and piled on all of their outerwear again, Natasha takes a look in the beautiful floor-length mirror. They look good together.
Sawyer is wearing a pastel pink coat with a flared skirt. She's belted the waist tightly, and the skirt falls just above the knee. She's doubled a scarf around her neck and her curls are bunched up, resting on the fabric. The scarf has worn the foundation off on her jaw and chin. Her lips are painted a soft, blue-toned pink, her cupid's bow carefully outlined and highlighted.
Natasha's coat is made of an elegant, grey wool felt, with a funnel neck and a cocoon silhouette. It has contrasting stitching on the hems and sweet little buttons. Natasha's mom had bought her the coat for Christmas two years ago. It had made Natasha's heart hurt a bit. She knew her parents liked to get her an assortment of dried and canned food, warm clothes and basic toiletries as gifts, as they couldn't always guarantee she would take care of herself. She intuited that her mother had chosen this coat thinking about the daughter she had expected to have. It's stylish and mature and Natasha knows her mother spent a lot on it. It's never been worn before. With her coat she wears her brown, battered 20-hole Docs and a thin red scarf. She can't believe she feels good about herself after yesterday, but she does.
Sawyer looks even taller and extremely curvaceous in comparison to Natasha, whose face is peeking out comically from the top of the stiff collar. Sawyer's looking at the mirror too, smiling at what she sees. She takes Natasha's hand in hers, stoops down for a little kiss.
Natasha slips her phone out of her pocket, "Can I have another small kiss please?"
She holds the phone at a diagonal and manages to get them both in the frame, Natasha stretching up to meet Sawyer and Sawyer softly puckering her lips.
She takes another, holding the phone with her index fingers and thumbs in front of her chest. Sawyer stands half behind Natasha, hand on Natasha's side. Sawyer's eyes lock directly on to the camera through the mirror, and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
Natasha pinches the screen to get a better look at her face. She looks slightly plumper than she used to, her hair looks glossy and well maintained.
She opens up the option to 'Share' and selects her mom's email address.
"Hey Mom. Did you get my card? I sent it yesterday. Here are Sawyer and I in the Philadelphia Art Museum. Do you remember how much I liked Nude Descending A Staircase when you took us all here when we were small? I'd forgotten, but now I remember trying to make a copy of it in the car on the way home. If you haven't got my card yet, this will make more sense when it arrives. Yours, Princess."
Sawyer reads over Natasha's shoulder, drops a small kiss on her hair.
As they walk out of the museum and down the steps Sawyer turns to Natasha and says, "I've pretended to be arty for a whole day, now will you please sing the Rocky theme as I run up these steps?"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
✤✤✤
Sawyer helps the theatre crew pack up the van, then makes her way back to the hotel to pick up Natasha in her car. Natasha has cleared out their room and carefully folded a tip under the coffee tray, and Sawyer is grateful for her good sense in falling in love with the sort of woman that tidies the room before the Housekeeper comes, and knows how to treat people.
Natasha is sat at the end of the bed, sketching the doorway to the bathroom. It's a standard issue hotel door, but Natasha seems to be interested in the shadow that the shower rail casts on the floor. Natasha looks gorgeous. She has told Sawyer that she doesn't like her profile, with her strong, pointed nose and widow's peak. Sawyer likes it though, and she likes the way that Natasha flings one muscular leg over the other, pointing her toes.
"Your drawing is beautiful,"
Natasha startles when Sawyer speaks, and then laughs at herself had enough to shake the bed.
"We should get going," Sawyer says, "It's just gone two. It's about a five hour drive, we can pull off for food if you want."
They split the bags equally between them, before Sawyer takes control of loading the car and Natasha has her last cigarette. Natasha slots Peaches into Sawyer's CD player, squeezes Sawyer's thigh as she starts the ignition.
The sun sets as Sawyer drives. Natasha spends most of the drive taking pictures out of the window. Most of them
