Natasha remembers this vividly. It was the sort of memory that popped into her head sometimes when she was in the shower or falling asleep, and immediately made her stomach sink and her hands go numb with mortification. She’s only ever told one other person, an ex-girlfriend. Sawyer hoots with laughter. Laughter loud enough to make people on other tables turn their heads and stare, and it suddenly makes Natasha laugh too. What’s so embarrassing about that story, truly? Natasha thinks. She was just a girl trying to defend another girl from some bullies. It was a little gauche, but there was nothing predatory about it.
“Sorry,” The waiter interrupts, “I’ve got two tiramisus and a lemon sorbet here. I can bring the rest of the desserts out now.”
After their dessert Sawyer calls for the bill, putting her bank card on the metal saucer before anyone else can even get their wallets out. Natasha’s father protests, but Sawyer won’t have any of it. Ursula offers to drive Alisha and their parents back to the family home. She has left her car at Natasha’s so they all pile into a taxi together and then hover at the bottom of the wooden steps of Sawyer and Natasha’s porch.
“Would you like to come in for a quick drink before you go?” Sawyer offers.
Natasha can see the small tells of exhaustion in Sawyer; the way she supports the arch of her back with her own hands, the way her accent thickens. It surprises Natasha that she actually wants her family to stay, but she also wants to take Sawyer to bed and rub her back for her.
“No,” Natasha’s mom says warmly, “You two enjoy the rest of your evening. Let us know when you open your gifts.”
Alisha stage-whispers to Sawyer, “Nat’s always been so funny about gifts. She used to take them up to her room to unwrap and then insist we saved every piece of the packaging too.”
Sawyer’s smile spreads slowly as she looks over to Natasha, “Oh that’s so sweet. I’ll make sure she texts you as soon as she opens them.”
Natasha starts saying goodbye to her family. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ursula press her business card on Sawyer. She overhears Ursula say that she’d like to have more regular dinners, and she hopes they can stay in contact to arrange them. Natasha lets her chest flood with that warm feeling again. It would be nice, she thinks, to see them more. Perhaps they could do a barbeque out the back. Sawyer could have her own vegetarian section of the grill. They could invite the people in the apartments upstairs.
Alisha cups Natasha’s elbow and draws her a bit further away from the group.
“I really like Sawyer, Natasha,” Alisha whispers conspiratorially.
“That’s great Ali. I really like her too, clearly.”
“She’s honestly amazing. She’s so smart and she could totally be an underwear model. It’s really nice that you’re both girly-girls. I totally wouldn’t have guessed that she’s a lesbian. You look so cool and glam together. You’re, like, both Portias.”
Natasha couldn’t roll her eyes more if she tried, “Ali, I don’t have time to talk to you about this now. I love you very much, but it’s time for everyone to go home.” She raises her voice loud enough that her parents could conceivably overhear, “Good luck with Mark, I hope he grows a pair and finishes things with his wife. You’ll be an amazing step-mom.”
Before they leave, Natasha hugs her father to her chest. She always remembers him being enormously tall. It used to hurt her neck when he’d embrace her fully. But now he seems to be barely taller than her, and when he holds her back, his hands have a weaker grip than they used to. She hugs her mother next, and she seems more energetic than ever. She smells of Giorgio Beverly Hills like she always has, as far back as Natasha can remember. She remembers the striped yellow box and the curvy bottle; and how Mom always said it smelt like freedom.
Natasha and Sawyer wave as her family makes their way down the driveway and into Ursula’s car. They keep waving until the car disappears around the corner at the end of the street, then go in and switch the coffee maker on.
As the coffee drips painfully slowly into the glass pot Sawyer asks, “Did I just hear Alisha say it was good that I’m a proper girl?”
“She said girly-girl. I know, I know. But she means it as a compliment,” Natasha sighs, exasperated by her little sister but willing to defend her. Even when she knows she’s wrong.
Sawyer laughs, “Mikaela’s going to love that. She’ll shit.”
Sawyer bangs the top of coffee machine to get it to flow a bit faster. “Alisha’s not that bad really. Just a bit young for her age. Your family are delightful,” Sawyer says.
“You must wonder how I became such a fuck-up.”
Sawyer pokes her hard in the ribs “Hush!” she says, “Don’t be an idiot. Come on, I want to see you open your presents.”
Her parents have bought her practical gifts as usual; good quality bed sheets, some bamboo socks, and a wooden box of small bottles of flavored sea salt.
“These
