Natasha's voice turns soft, "It's a good idea though, I can give you my mom's number as well."
"I'd love to have her at my house warming, I bet she loves to get her swerve on,"
Natasha smiles, "For the first thing."
"I know, I know," Sawyer keeps her eyes firmly on the road, "I don't have any parents for you to call, but you can have Kimberly and Mikaela's numbers. If you want."
"Did your ex worry about you when you were on tour?" Natasha's voice is slow, careful. "You know, driving late at night, that sort of thing."
"No," says Sawyer, "It might have been nice if she had."
"I tend not to worry about death. I just assume the Grim Reaper is just going to jump out at me from behind a bush one day - "
Sawyer opens her mouth to interrupt Natasha, but she keeps talking.
"But I don't like to think of you doing anything that might get you hurt," Natasha is studiously looking out the passenger side window, "I don't know what I'd do with myself."
The car lapses into silence. Sawyer drives a different and slightly longer way, through a part of the city that is new to her.
"You know," starts Natasha, "I used to walk through here when I was thinking of killing myself."
Sawyer looks around, it's a pleasant looking street with brownstone houses and a few coffee shops.
"I used to go out to the shed to think about it," Sawyer replies.
Natasha's head jerks around to face her, her eyes dark and fierce. "I'm sorry they weren't able to keep you safe."
Sawyer drives home like she's got a baby in the back seat.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
✤✤✤
Sawyer wakes early, in Natasha's bed, on Christmas morning. She tries to stay asleep as long as she can but the childish part of her brain keeps needling her, telling her it's Christmas! Wake up! She tries to suppress it but she can't help checking the time on her phone.
Natasha's attic apartment is cold and the insides of the windows are frosty. Natasha has a variety of blankets strewn over the bed, and beneath them Sawyer is warm. She gives up on sleep, resigns herself to reading the news on her phone as the room lightens around her.
When she was younger and Christmas seemed special, she'd forbid anyone in her house from looking at the news on Christmas Day. Every year she'd hoped for a day safer and more sterile than the inside of a snow globe. She reads a story about a man from Delaware shooting his kids, his wife, his dog, and then himself in a row about Christmas presents. She feels nauseous. She tries to distract herself with her Chicago Bitches WhatsApp group, but neither Kimberly nor Mikaela have been online for hours.
In the night they had drifted away from each other. Natasha's hair is messy on the pillow, her nipples soft in the warmth under the duvet. She rarely sleeps later than Sawyer. Sawyer rarely wakes her, knowing that if she sleeps in, it's usually a precious respite from anxiety. But the story spooked her, and she wants Natasha's comfort. She trails her fingers in loose, swirling patterns over Natasha's vulva. Not pressing in between her labia, but tapping her fingers gently across them. Natasha stirs a bit, smiling and murmuring. There's a sliver of green as she cracks her eye open slightly.
Christmas morning starts with some messy 69ing, followed by long, slow kisses by the coffee maker in their dressing gowns.
"Shall we do presents?" Natasha asks.
Sawyer knows that there is a phone call she should make first. Natasha gives Sawyer space that Sawyer doesn't really ask for, shutting the door softly behind herself. The sheets are still rumpled in the nest they made, warm and slightly damp.
"Hi mom, it's me."
Her mother's voice is faint over the receiver. She shushes someone in the background. Her heart jumps at the thought of it being one of her siblings.
"Yeah, I'm working in Pittsburgh. Really busy, everyone is really excited, " She hurriedly gets the weather app up on her home screen to check Pittsburgh, "No, it's not snowing, not yet."
It's snowing back home. Sawyer knows it will be more beautiful and fearsome than the mizzling sleet Natasha calls snow.
"That does sound nice, mom. But you know what I would need for that to happen, and I don't think you want to do those things."
Sawyer is resolute, but still holds out a childish hope that her mother will agree to the terms she has set in order to visit them at home in Wisconsin. She doesn't let herself feel disappointed when her mother starts listing the reasons why she feels Sawyer is being ungrateful and unreasonable. She set her terms years ago, when she finally internalized the message that she isn't the one who needs to feel shame. Being with Natasha has just strengthened her resolve further. Instead, she checks the time. 3 minutes, eight - nine - ten seconds. She tries to start winding up.
"It's getting pretty hectic here now mom, got to go. Merry Christmas."
The Chicago Bitches group is still quiet. Looks like Mikaela has been online but hasn't messaged. She must be late for work.
Sawyer leans off the edge of the bed and fishes for her guitar. She'd brought over three bags of things
