Sawyer looks at Natasha in surprise, but leans her weight on Natasha when she slips her arm around Sawyer's waist and strokes over the golden fabric stretched over her thighs.
They reach the venue, and Natasha tips him the state-wide regular amount, while Sawyer slams the door violently.
"What an asshole. I'm sorry Nat, I just wasn't in the mood for him."
Natasha feels hot anger well up. Sawyer knows how nervous Natasha gets about nights like that these, and decided to make a fuss anyway. Natasha watches the tail lights of the taxi turn into pin pricks and disappear into the distance. She tries to visualize her anger disappearing with the car, and takes Sawyer's hand.
The venue is a corporate, downtown hotel. In the foyer there's a flimsy vinyl pull-up banner advertising the Boston Theatre Professionals’ Awards. The entrance to the main function room is flanked by two large pots filled with slivers of fabric being blown upwards, up-lit by dim orange lights to give the impression of towers of flame.
Sawyer grabs a bit of the fabric in her fist, "God, this is tragic."
The room has been set out like a cheap wedding with circular tables covered in wrinkled table cloths. Sawyer finds their table immediately, scanning the other seating cards on the table to see if she knows anyone.
"Sawyer! We're here!"
Natasha startles, turns to see a small group of people waving at them.
Sawyer performatively shrieks with joy and starts wiggling towards them as fast as she can manage.
She shouts across the room, "Irma! Pete! Emily! Hello! Isn't this amazing? What an amazing venue! You must come and meet Natasha!"
"Look at this dress!" the older of the two women exclaims, Natasha assumes it must be Irma. She's got a neat, heart shaped face and dark bangs that stop about an inch above her eyebrows. She's dressed a lot more casually than Sawyer or Natasha, a simple cotton pinafore dress and a pair of dangly earrings.
Irma cups her hands around Sawyer's hips and Natasha has to choke down an involuntary noise. She reminds herself that they've worked together for a long while, and Lucia and Gillian touch Natasha all the time.
"You look absolutely breath-taking, Sawyer. Who is the designer?" the man asks.
Sawyer replies, "Mikaela Del Rio, she's a designer working in Chicago. We went to college together in Brookfield."
He nods, "Mikaela...Mikaela, I know I've heard that name, but I don't think I've worked with her."
"You should, she's brilliant," Sawyer grins broadly, then settles a hand on the small of Natasha's back, "This is Natasha, my partner."
Irma turns and looks at Natasha. Natasha feels a keen intelligence behind her round, thick-rimmed frames. She reminds Natasha of an old professor she'd had at art school, one she'd always hoped to impress.
"Natasha," she says, with a long ah sound, "You have the most incredible cheekbones!"
Before Natasha knows it, she has Irma's firm thumbs pressed on her cheekbones, "I've heard so much about you, but Sawyer never said you were quite so striking!"
Natasha's heart sinks, "Oh God, I hate to think what you've heard."
"I know you're very patient, a gorgeous artist, an exacting teacher, your parents taught at Harvard and that you're not a vegetarian.” Irma pouts exaggeratedly, “But also that you don't moan when she takes you to vegetarian places," Irma's eyes twinkle as she lists off what Natasha assumes Sawyer must consider Natasha's most appealing attributes.
Natasha's eyes flicker over to Sawyer, who is twisting the ring Natasha bought her round and round her finger. She gives Sawyer's wrist a quick squeeze.
Irma asks, "So, did you see the show, Natasha?"
"I did, I loved it! Constance and Merricat were so good, and the way you staged the bit with the villagers storming that castle at the end was so suspenseful."
Natasha had genuinely enjoyed it. Her favorite part had actually been Sawyer's melancholy and sinister lighting. The range of the lights on the stage had gradually got smaller and smaller until it ended on that final image of the roofless house, open to the elements.
Irma smiles graciously but doesn't speak, just makes friendly eye contact with Natasha. Natasha casts around for something else to add.
"I loved Merricat, she really resonated with me. She reminded me of one time my sister and I found this dead, half eaten animal in the street. Our parents helped us clean it up and we laid out all the bones end to end around the perimeters of our garden as far as they'd go. Then all the rest of that summer we would look for dead birds and rats in the park so we could finish the circle. We were convinced that we'd be invoking protective spirits. We never finished it though. She lost interest and my parents got fed up with me leaving the grisly bits in the kitchen sink."
Natasha stops talking and catches Sawyer's face of barely repressed laughter. Irma looks a bit taken aback for a moment and then bursts into laughter, Sawyer joining her. Natasha didn't intend that to be a funny story.
Irma wipes under her eyes after she stops laughing, "Oh, Natasha, Sawyer did say you were a genuine kook. You're fantastic, you must come for dinner some time."
Natasha hates that word, and all its synonyms. She forces herself to
