Lucia stares at Sawyer, "Why are you being the Dad's creepy girlfriend from The Parent Trap?"
Sawyer needs to tread cautiously here, she knows. She doesn't need a repeat of their first conversation.
"She's alive, so you've obviously done a good job of it."
Lucia gives Sawyer a small, cautious smile.
Sawyer continues, "Natasha's explained to me that there's not going to be an end to this, for her - ." Sawyer pauses, "And I'm alright with that,"
She continues, "But next time she feels so anxious that she thinks she might need drugs to deal with it, we're going to try a more conventional way of making her confident in managing that risk."
"'We're' going to, are 'we'?"
"God permitting," Sawyer isn't even sure where that phrase came from. Sometimes she feels her grandmother speaking through her mouth from beyond the grave.
Lucia smirks and repeats what Sawyer said in a much stronger Southern accent than she usually uses. Sawyer wonders if this is the voice Lucia uses on the phone to her family, the one she uses first thing in the morning, the one she uses with her lovers.
Sawyer puts on her best hokey Southern voice, "If the Lord can lead you to it, he can lead you through it."
Lucia snorts, pushes herself to sit up on the counter. Her knees splay to the sides, her feet dangle. Sawyer has never seen Lucia look this relaxed.
"That's such a load of horseshit," Lucia says, in her normal voice. She takes a deep breath, "You know, there have been a lot of women that have fallen for Natasha. They think they're going to have a couple of months of athletic sex, get drawn like one of her French girls, and then end up with a warm, satisfied feeling from having 'fixed' her."
Sawyer interrupts, "That's two fantastic nineties cinematic references you've made. I'm starting to enjoy this conversation."
Lucia rolls her eyes. "You know what they get?"
Sawyer shakes her head, she hasn't spoken to Natasha about any previous relationships.
"Jack shit. She can smell those bitches from a fucking mile away."
Sawyer isn't sure how much she should level with Lucia. She lets the pause stretch. Lucia holds her eyes, clearly waiting for some sort of response from Sawyer.
"I don't want to fix her. I want her to have a satisfying life. I want her to know all the options open to her, to challenge herself. I want her to feel good about herself. I'd want the same for any woman I loved, regardless of whether she had an illness or not." Sawyer can hear the vehemence in her voice, hopes Lucia can hear it too.
"I always thought she would end up with some super laid back, stoner chick."
Sawyer thinks of her ex and can't resist wrinkling her nose, "And instead she's gone for some uptight, giant-footed Midwesterner," she finishes for Lucia.
Lucia shrugs, "Do you actually want anything?" Sawyer recognizes that the conversation is closed for now.
"I'll have a flat white please, Lucia,"
"I'd take a water with that as well if I were you; Nat bounced in here with an inhuman amount of energy earlier. She's going to be making you all sweat,"
"Well, they say Philly has rejuvenating qualities. Actually, they say that about my pussy too, so don't give Philadelphia all the credit."
Lucia laughs properly, it's the first time that Sawyer has ever seen it. It's a big barking laugh with Lucia's head tilted all the way back. She suddenly looks her age, the performative world-weariness fallen away.
Sawyer drinks her coffee and her water, sitting sideways on the stool with her legs draped all over the floor like a mermaid. Lucia props herself up on the counter in companionable silence. The centre is quiet but for Natasha's advanced class clattering down the stairs, through the cafe and out the front door. A few minutes after they leave, Sawyer hears the echo of rapid footsteps flying down the wooden stairs, and recognizes them immediately. She waits until they get closer, wants to see if she can make Natasha jump.
"Don't try it, bitch. I can see your wig from here."
Sawyer springs up right into Natasha's grinning face. She's slightly sweaty and her cheeks are pink and her eyes are sparkling and Sawyer has to swallow around how much she loves her.
She glares and hisses, "Don't say it's a wig! Someone might believe you!"
Natasha grabs her, one hand wrapped tightly around her waist and the other gripping her roots, "Look Luce, I told you it's a wig!"
Sawyer pushes back at her and before she knows it, they are tussling behind the counter. Sawyer is breathless with laughter as Natasha shunts her into the cabinets with her hip, even more so when she looks at Lucia and she's staring at them like she wants to hang herself.
Natasha eventually gives up on pulling Sawyer's hair. She stands behind Sawyer, gives her tit a quick squeeze before she wraps her arms around Sawyer's bigger body, pulling her close. Sawyer assumed Natasha would prefer to still keep things circumspect, but Sawyer's pleased to be wrong. Sawyer preens under Natasha's attention, twists her spine to look back and down and smear a kiss on Natasha's cheek bone.
Natasha eventually sits with her notebook and scribbles for a few minutes, sipping a glass of water. She pats Sawyer's leg,
"Come on, let's go upstairs. Did you bring one of my spare mats from my place? A pregnant woman
