“But the characters, the aesthetic...”
“Yes, yes, and what about Hamilton? Does its success reflect a hankering for the days when America was new, had more direction? Are we lost, as a nation?”
“I see Hamilton as more a call to arms.”
Natasha is already in over her head, but Sawyer is taking deeper breaths now. Natasha forces herself to stay awake until she knows that Sawyer is fully asleep.
She lets the voices wash over her.
“No, I think audiences are just as likely to selectively forget problematic parts of history to experience nostalgia. Look at The Crown.”
“Colonialism.”
“Colonialism, right.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
✤✤✤
Natasha checks her mirrors, indicates and then pulls out in front of a large, red SUV that Sawyer scoffs at. Sawyer’s car is flooded with the spring sun and Natasha’s knuckles feel pleasantly warm where they wrap around the steering wheel.
“You could have gone before that black Ford,” Sawyer deadpans. Sawyer’s got childish, heart-shaped sunglasses on and is drinking a frozen margarita from a plastic cup, with her feet up on the dash. It’s Natasha’s birthday, and no part of this is fair.
“I wouldn’t have had time! It wasn’t safe,” Natasha reasons with Sawyer, using her slow yoga voice.
“There was totally time," Sawyer answers back. Even behind the mirrored surface of her sunglasses, Natasha can tell Sawyer is rolling her eyes. Sawyer continues, “If you want to drive like a pensioner, that’s your look out.”
For the most part, Natasha has been enjoying learning to drive. Her drug-blasted memory lets her down occasionally and sometimes her own interpretation of the road signs is different to the official meaning, but she’s surprised herself with what a calm and patient driver she can be.
Sawyer selects the Bluetooth option on the screen on her dash and grabs her phone, filling her car with "Why'd You Come in Here Lookin' Like That.” Sawyer slaps out the beat on her thighs and it makes Natasha’s teeth itch.
“Sawyer, I’m this close to making you get out of the car,” Natasha threatens.
Sawyer smirks, “I’m not getting out of my car.”
Natasha doesn’t really like taking her eyes off the road all that much, but she sneaks a glance at Sawyer and says, “I can make you,” darkly.
She has a vision of pulling over, popping Sawyer’s seatbelt open, tugging her from the car, twisting her around and then pushing her face-down against the hood and issuing a series of sharp, fast slaps to her ass.
“You really can’t though,” Sawyer sing-songs at her. “It’s my car and you’ve only got a Learner’s Permit. This is your supervised driving time with a licensed driver aged 21 years or older,” She bites on the edge of her fingernail at Natasha.
“Why are you ruining my birthday, Sawyer?”
Natasha doesn’t really care for her birthday. She’s had thirty-five of them prior to today, but Sawyer has been getting excited about Natasha's birthday for weeks. Even Mikaela and Kimberly have text Natasha happy birthday, no doubt reminded to by Sawyer. Natasha isn't above using emotional manipulation to get her point across.
Sawyer unfolds her legs from the dash and plants them on the floor of her car. She swipes her phone a few times and the music in the car changes. There’s a familiar droning noise followed by a thumping synth beat, and a soaring vocal, “I can sense it, something important is about to happen, it's coming up, it takes courage to enjoy it…”
“Nice choice,” Natasha nods to Sawyer, keeps her eyes firmly on the upcoming intersection.
“You’re welcome, birthday girl,” Sawyer trills, smug with Natasha's approval.
After the lights, the traffic eases and before long they’re crossing Columbus Avenue, soaring down Centre Street and across the rotary so Natasha can drive by the Arboretum and look at the new growth on the trees.
“You need to take the first exit here, remember to cancel your signal,” Sawyer instructs.
Natasha hums, and does as Sawyer says.
“Well done Natasha! That was really smooth!” Sawyer’s voice is sickly sweet.
“Didn’t you once tell me you were offered a Professorship in the Theatre Studies department at your alma mater? And Mikaela told you not to take it?” Natasha says lightly.
“Yeah...?”
“Mikaela was right.”
Sawyer scream-laughs, “I was only trying to be encouraging, you ass!”
Sawyer’s attention is taken by the light shining through the thick foliage at the Arboretum, shadows of the leaves dappling the inside of the car. It must be nice for her to be able to take more notice of the scenery while Natasha drives. Usually Natasha spends most of her time in Sawyer’s car looking out the window and daydreaming about drawing what she sees.
“So, when are you opening my presents then?” Sawyer asks.
Natasha screws her nose up, “Later. It’s my reward for getting through a driving lesson and a family dinner.”
Natasha is driving within spitting distance of her old apartment. She wants to do a loop of the block out of nostalgia, but they really need to get home and changed before her parents and sisters descend.
Their new apartment is a little further out in JP. It’s a ground floor apartment, and although they have to put up with noise from the apartment above, they now have a wooden porch to sit out on. Sawyer has already bought several terracotta pots, spray painted them pastel pink and filled them
