Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jane had never been as nervous as she was on this taxi ride.

She had been fine on the plane, she picked up her suitcases and felt fine. She told the driver the address, and leaned back in her seat, trying to distract herself by looking out the window at the city she’d been to. But the closer the taxi took her from LAX to Hollywood, the faster her heart started beating.

What if she didn’t have the right address? And even if she did, was that guarantee that she would be welcome?

Every minute that passed she felt more nervous and by the time the driver stopped, made Jane pay an absurd amount of money and didn’t even get suitcases out for her, she was close to turning around and flying back.

Except there was no home, none she wanted or could return to anyway.

She surveys the house she’s been dropped off. It’s one story with a white façade and a red door. There’s a little porch with two wicker chairs on it and a big tree growing next to the driveway.

Now or never, Jane thinks. She takes one last deep breath and walk up the couple of stone stairs.

The doorbell is a little rusty and maybe used to be gold at some point. Jane rings it with her hand shaking ever so slightly. She’s usually not scared of anything, so the strangeness of the feeling scares her even more.

Her breath catches when she hears heels clacking from inside the inside of the house.

A young woman answers the door. She's about as tall as Jane with even more curves with big bouncy blonde curls. She's wearing a pink denim overall and lots of eyeliner. Jane thinks she looks kind. Too young to be who Jane is looking for though, maybe.

"Hi?" The woman asks, smiling at Jane.

Right, this is the moment.

"Hi, uhm. I'm looking for Yekaterina?"

"Katya?" The woman looks at Jane curiously, noticing the suitcases behind Jane. "She's not home right now, can I take a message?" Katya.

Jane chews her lip. How in all her thinking did she never consider that Katya could live with someone and that she would have to do this with someone even more unknown to her.

"I'm her sister," Jane blurts out. "Uhm, she doesn't know I'm here. I was hoping I could stay with her?" Jane hopes she sounds less pathetic than she feels.

The woman's eyebrows shoot up and her mouth goes into a surprised little o-shape.

"Jelena?" She exclaims, the surprise evident in her voice. She immediately pulls Jane into a tight hug. When they pull apart, she pulls Jane's hair behind her ears and looks at her.

“Everybody calls me Jane,” Jane clarifies.

"I can't believe I didn't notice. What are you doing here?" She glances down the street behind Jane. "Wait, your parents aren't here, are they?" Her brows are furrowed now, she looks concerned.

"No, they kicked me out," Jane blurts out.

"Oh my god!" The woman doesn't seem to know what to do with that, but she looks so concerned for Jane that she feels touched. "I can’t believe those fucking assholes," she curses, and pulls Jane in for another hug.

"Come in, please! Katya should be home soon, we can like, talk? Oh, I'm Trixie I don't know why I didn't say that earlier", Trixie, apparently, says, already grabbing Jane's suitcases and pulling them into the house behind her.

Jane follows her through a small foyer and down the hallway into the living room.

"I'll put these in the guest room, you sit down," Trixie mumbles and walks away with the suitcases, leaving Jane clutching her handbag and standing awkwardly.

She surveys the living room. It's bright, cozy. The couch is deep red with hot pink and leopard print pillows, but somehow it works. The furniture is thrown together and is mostly antique looking, the decor colorful and all over the place. There’s a bouquet of colorful flowers in a vase on the dining table. It's so unlike the house Jane grew up in that she instantly loves it. She walks around a little, glances into a little backyard and touches an old looking dark stained cabinet. There are framed photos on top of it, and Jane stops.

There's one of Trixie playing a pink guitar, one of what she presumes is also Trixie at the beach as a kid. Those aren’t the ones that stop her breath though.

There are pictures of another blonde woman, platinum blonde like Jane. Where Jane’s hair is long down her back, she has a chopped bob and bangs. She’s wearing red lipstick and hugging Trixie. Then, she’s wearing a red satin dress next to Trixie in a light pink one, guests at someone’s wedding if Jane had to guess. There’s another one of just her, hair tousled on a pier, smiling at the camera. Jane takes the frame in her hand.

Katya. How strange to finally know what her sister looked like.

Jane hears Trixie coming back and quickly puts the photo down and sits down on the couch. Trixie babbles about Katya coming home soon, five minutes she guesses, and clatters around in what Jane figures is the kitchen to get her a glass of water. Jane doesn’t touch it because she’s too busy thinking about her sweaty how palms are right now.

Trixie tries her best at small talk, offering Jane ten different beverages and snacks a chatters a little about a new plant she’s getting for the garden. She tidies up some apparently out of place clutter that Jane can’t tell apart from the intentional décor clatter, but she’s glad Trixie isn’t asking her anything about herself.

A part of her feels like should just run out the door now. Once she met Katya, that would be that. No going back. She could throw her out too, even it seemed unlikely, but if Jane left before she ever found out, it couldn’t happen at all.

-

Jane is eighteen years old while Katya should be thirty-four. Jane didn’t even know she went by Katya until Trixie called her that. It’s a common enough Russian nickname, she should have guessed it. She didn’t know though.

Jane’s parents kicked Katya out when she was eighteen, Jane would have been two years old. She doesn’t remember anything, being two years old and all. For the longest time she was never too sure if she had imagined someone else being there, in her early childhood memories. There were no family photos besides those with Jane and her parents, there was no mention of a sibling, ever. There was an empty bedroom for a time, she’s pretty sure, but by the time Jane was seven or so it turned into her dad’s office.

When Jane got older, her parents slipped up sometimes. Acquaintances would ask what their son was doing, and her parents would brush them off and say he moved away. She’d hear them talking about that “ungrateful boy” occasionally, whispering to each other that Jane at least better turn out normal, when they didn’t know Jane could hear them in the next room.

At some point Jane found old family photos in the attic, a blonde teenager holding a baby Jane. Toddler Jane walking, the same teenager holding her hand. She’s snuck them down to her room and stared at them for weeks before she went to sleep.

She finally confronted her parents when she was fifteen, and they cursed her out, threw every slur in the world around about Katya and reminded Jane to not be such a disappointment and throw away her life.

So, Katya hadn’t technically always been Katya, and her parents were not happy with the revelation. They preferred to act like they never had a first child to begin with.

At fifteen however, Jane had long figured out that she liked kissing her girlfriends a lot better than boys in her grade, so she realized that sooner or later, she’d end up like Katya in her parents’ eyes too.

She had always thought that revelation would have been something people called their sister about. She’d have understood. But Jane had grown up an only child, for all intents and purposes.

So, for three years now, her sister had been an abstract concept. She was somewhere, but Jane wouldn’t have recognized if she had walked by her on the street. How odd.

-

Jane got so lost in thought that she barely didn’t notice the front door opening.

“Honey, I’m home”, a voice shouted across the house.

Trixie stopped her frantic pacing around the kitchen and stood next to Jane by the couch.

“Katya, can you come in here?” Trixie seems almost as nervous as Jane, and this does absolutely nothing to calm Jane’s nerves.

A blonde woman enters the living room. She looks just like the pictures, Jane thinks. She’s shorter than Trixie and leans on her tiptoes to give her a quick kiss when she walks in. Jane can hear her own heart beating.

Trixie clears her throat and Katya notices Jane on the sofa for the first time.

“Baby aren’t we a little old for threesomes?” Katya jokes and strokes Trixie’s shoulder. “Also, you could at least text me before!”

“Kat, you’re so going to wish you never said that in a about ten seconds”, Trixie sighs and shakes her head.

“Tough crowd”, Katya sighs.

Trixie just shakes her head again.

“Cюрприз,” Jane says with a shaking voice. Surprise indeed.

 Katya looks at Trixie in confusion and takes a longer look at Jane. Jane sees when she notices her eyes; they’re the same color; the same high cheekbones. The same smile too, as far Jane can tell, but Jane is too anxious to smile. She can pinpoint the moment Katya realizes and her jaw drops.

“No way,” Katya breathes. “Jelena?”

“Hi.”

Katya’s jaw drops open, and she seems unable to close it. She drops down on an armchair across from Jane, still staring at her like she can’t believe her eyes.

“Я не могу в это поверить,” Katya exclaims. She can’t believe it. Katya’s Russian sounds rusty, but she has the same accent Jane’s heard her whole life.

“И я нет”, Jane answers, because she can’t either.

Trixie clears her throat next to them.

 “Sorry Trix. I’m just, I don’t even know what to say,” Katya glances up at Trixie, like the other blonde is any less lost in this conversation.

“Oh my god I made a joke about a threesome with my sister,” Katya exclaims, looking horrified.

“Told ya,” Trixie snorts.

Katya seems at a loss for words, just staring at Jane incredulously.  She shakes her head, trying to collect herself.

"I always wondered if I'd ever see you all grown up. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, I don't know what they told you," Katya sputters nervously, never taking her eyes off of Jane.

Jane shakes her head. "I know you didn’t have a choice." The way her parents spoke about Katya, not an ounce of her blamed Katya for putting as much distance as possible between them.

"Do they know you're here?" Katya asks.

"No, they kicked me out last week," Jane answers, figuring it's best if she gets right to the point. "I didn't know where to go but I didn't want to stay in Boston and I thought... I don't know, I wanted to meet you. And maybe ask if I could stay with you until I find a job and figure something out." Jane hates asking for things, it feels to vulnerable. 

"They did what?" Katya shouts though and furrows her brows. Trixie, who Jane already told that, walks to stand behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder.

"They're going two for two apparently," Jane shrugs. She knows she should be more emotional, but she stopped caring too long ago to try and dig up those feelings again now.

"Why did they? Is that just what they do now when you turn eighteen, fuck" Katya curses and scans over Jane incredulously, trying to find whatever her parents found wrong about her.

"Big old dyke," Jane offers.

Katya and Trixie share a look, concern evident in their eyes.

"I'm fine, I knew for years this was going to happen," Jane shrugs. "I had just planned to make them pay for college first and maybe have my own place to live first. Like, I never had any illusions they'd be fine with it, not with how they talk about you, sorry," she winces.

Katya just waves her hand. "Don't worry, I'm surprised they talk about me at all."

"They don't really, I asked. Then it was shitty side comments here and there. So, I knew what I was in for, I just... thought I had a little more time to prepare, you know?"

"Stay here, stay as a long as you want. They'd be so mad that you're here, that alone is priceless," Katya looks at her with a stoic expression. "Oh Trixie," she remembers the other blonde woman behind her. "Is that okay?"

Trixie kisses the top of Katya's head. "I put her suitcases in the guest room before you got her."

Katya smiles up at her.

"I'm going to make the up the bed, you two… talk," Trixie says and gives Katya's shoulders another squeeze.

There's some silence after Trixie leaves. There's really no handbook how to handle this kind of situation, Jane wishes there was. She doesn't do well in new situations.

"Gay, huh," Katya smiles after a while.

"You seem familiar with the concept," Jane laughs and motions her head in the direction Trixie disappeared.

"Oh, an expert at this point. Inventor perhaps," Katya says and leans back in her chair.

Jane cocks her head. "How long have you guys been together?"

Katya grins. "Together for eight years, married for five." She shyly waves her hand in Jane's direction and sure enough there's a simple gold wedding band on her ring finger.

Married, damn. "Congratulations," Jane smiles.

"I aim to make our parents proud," Katya sighs. Jane hasn't quite figured out if they're a sensitive topic for her or not. Maybe she just thinks it's uncomfortable for Jane.

Jane had emotionally cut off her parents three years ago, she was annoyed by her very embarrassing homelessness, but she wasn't emotional. They weren't worth it and that was that.

"Can I ask how you even found me?" Katya asks. Did they know where I live all this time, she wants to ask, Jane thinks.

"Clues from mother. There was cursing about you using babushka's name at some point. Not that many Zamolodchikovas in LA, if you can believe it", Jane answers. “Actually, only one, so that was lucky."

"Oh babushka," Katya smiles wistfully. "You never met her, she died before you were born, but she was the best. Only one in that family worth a damn. Let me play in dresses and use her make up, never told anyone."

"She sounds great. Only one though huh, guess I'll see myself out", Jane teases and raises an eyebrow. She scared Katya will take her seriously for a second, but she just laughs.

"Sorry, one of the good ones, one of them," Katya corrects. "I guess I'm still realizing that little toddler Jelena is all grown up and sitting in my house”, she says apologetically.

Jane shares the feeling. "I'm still getting used to you being a person. That like, exists."

Katya laughs at that.

-

After Trixie comes back, they have dinner. Mostly Trixie talks, fussing around Jane and sometimes Katya and telling Jane about their lives. Jane listens and watches them from across the table.

Trixie grew up in Wisconsin and went to LA because she needed to get out of her small town. She wanted to become a singer, but ended up being a make-up artist that plays country songs in bars on the side.

She learns that Katya's a bartender at one of those bars and that's how they met. The bar is a queer bar called the Marlene and Trixie is already making plans to take Jane.

Jane offers to do the dishes after, and Trixie almost looks insulted. She shoos her away to the guest room, giving her towels, a bathrobe, showing her the adjacent bathroom and tells her to feel at home.

Jane doubts that she will, but the prospect sounds nice.

-

Jane takes a shower and with that, the longest day of her life comes to an end. She washes the plane off her with sickeningly sweet vanilla body wash and get and old t-shirt and shorts out of her suitcase.

Jane lies on the bed and looks at the ceiling for some time. The guest room is muted rose color, and the bed is a heavy gold metal frame with tons of kitschy pillows piled on top the softest mattress Jane has ever sunk into.

She hears some noises of Katya and Trixie moving around, some talking in muffled voices. She has urge to get up and tries to listen but thinks better of it. Muffled conversations don’t mean they’re talking about her. And even if they did, what should happen.

This wasn’t her house in Boston anymore and she didn’t have to watch her every step and listen to every hushed voice as a precaution. She breathes in deeply once, twice.

The noises in the living room get quiet after some time, she hears a shower turning on. Then some doors closing, a light switch. Jane waits another ten minutes before she decides it should be safe to go out for a smoke.

She puts the pink bathrobe over her pajamas, presumably Trixie’s and fishes her pack out of her handbag. Somehow her parent’s had never caught her smoking. Unfortunate, really, the blow out would probably have been less bad. She sometimes thinks she only started because she wanted the chance to piss them off some more.

She pads down the hallway toward the living room and through the sliding doors onto the porch. She fumbles a cigarette out of her pack and lights it.

She takes a drag, looks out in the small garden. It’s cozy, like the rest of her sister’s house. Sister. The word still feels weird, even just in her head.

There’s a seating area with apricot color cushions and a worn looking pink Persian rug underneath. The walls are lined with big plants, some leafy and some cacti. There’s a small patch of grass that looks a little overgrown and two raised beds of herbs and strawberries on the other side.

She can’t stop thinking about the fact that Katya lives here. That she picked that cushion, although maybe that was Trixie. That Katya mows the lawn every few weeks when it gets too long, that she planted those basil and mint plants. Sits outside with her friends and her girlfr-, shit, her wife, and has a whole life.

It feels overwhelming. Feels like way too long of a distance to ever bridge.

“You know smoking’s bad for you right?” Katya says from behind her, and Jane turns around startled.

Katya’s in just a big shirt and panties, a cigarette dangling between her lips. She winks at Jane as she lights it and sits down on the porch swing.

“They ever catch you?”, Katya asks.

“No actually”, Jane says. “Still don’t understand how they didn’t, I barely hid it. Not the thing they were looking out for I guess.” She flicks some ash away.

There’s some silence, because they are still strangers and probably a little traumatized by the people they try to joke about.

Jane wishes she knew what to do. She wants to do more, wants to get to know Katya, wants to hug her, wants Katya to hug her. Wants to scream how much she wants to not fuck this up but that it’s hard for her. Jane’s not that kind of person though. She can’t navigate this situation well but she’s even worse at admitting she’s bad at something.

“Do you want to come sit?”, Katya asks, pulling her legs up to her chest to make room for Jane. “I promise I won’t bite.”

Jane smiles awkwardly but sits down next to Katya. Katya looks more peaceful than Jane feels, eyeing her curiously while Jane stiffly crosses her legs pulls the fluffy bathrobe tighter around me once.

“They caught me smoking when I was fifteen. I got screamed at in Russian for an hour and got grounded for a month. I mean it sucked at the time, but that really was a tame one. I mean in comparison to what came later. Hypocritical, surely smoking’s worse for your health than being a fag. A tranny, whatever. They didn’t even put in the time to find the appropriate slurs back then, they kinda just threw’em all”, Katya tries to joke.

Jane snorts. “You are a bit of catch all though.”

Katya fake-gasps and puts a hand on her heart. “You don’t know that, maybe we got married for a green card!”

“First of all, you were born in Boston, second Trixie looks like what a dictionary would use as a picture reference for a femme lesbian!”

“Her huge pink strap on would disagree with that”, Katya laughs.

“Her huge pink strap on that probably as a bow wrapped around it does nothing but support my point.” Jane chuckles and takes another drag, leaning back a little into the cushion of the swing. She grimaces. “I also don’t think that was something I needed to know.”

“Oh, so you’re homophobic, why didn’t you just say so.” Katya seems to like their little back and forth, Jane does too.

“I’m telling Trixie that you’re being mean to me”, Jane threatens and the genuine panic in Katya’s eyes is incredible.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Katya gasps.

“No, I’m kidding. But watching you sweat was fun.”

Katya pretends to hit Jane’s leg. It makes Jane feel brave.

“Trixie seems nice,” Jane says and hopes it comes off as genuine as she means it. The woman fluffed twenty odd pillows for her. Katya face melts visibly at the mention of Trixie.

“She the best,” Katya smiles softly. “I mean it when I say she’s my everything. The day I met her I knew I was going to marry her someday, and I am the luckiest person in the world because she actually did.”

“You guys seem happy,” Jane doesn’t know why she even says that, but at least it’s true.

“Every day I wake up I look at her and I’m glad she’s there. I hope she’d say the same about me, but I’m afraid she’d be a sappier about it. She writes songs about me, you know.”

Jane smiles. “I’m happy for you. That you didn’t- I don’t know. That you’re you and that you’re happy and that they didn’t manage to stop that from happening.”

“Thank you,” Katya says softly. Her smile got a little sadder, less beamy, but she puts a hand on Jane’s knee. Some more quiet minutes pass where Jane lights another cigarette and Katya quietly continues to watch her.

After some time, she clears her throat. “I’m sorry though, Jelena. Really. I know what it’s like and… Трахни ее, but I’m still sorry. It still shouldn’t have happened.”

Jane blows smoke into the night. “Jane. They’re the only ones who ever called me Jelena anyway.”

“Oh, right.” It’s Katya’s turn to light another cigarette. She doesn’t speak for a while again, and when Jane turns to look her, there’s a tear sliding down her cheek.

“Katya, what’s wrong? What did I say?”, Jane says, furrowing her brows and putting out her cigarette. She didn’t mean to make her cry, of all things.

“It’s fine”, Katya sniffles and wipes tears away. “Shit, I didn’t think that would get to me. Bottled it up real good, apparently.” She tries to smile at Jane again, it’s the sad attempt at one. The our-parents-have-no-kids half smile.

“It’s just, “ Katya sighs, and takes another drag. She plays with it between her fingers, flicking it. “I used to call you Jelena too. When you were little.”

Oh.

“I know you don’t remember; I knew you don’t remember; you were so young. I guess I hoped you might remember me a little, but no, it makes sense, you couldn’t have. Still, you should know it wasn’t only them.”

“Katya I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t know, but I’m still sorry.” Jane doesn’t really know what she’s apologizing for, but she doesn’t want Katya to cry, she doesn’t want to be to the one to make Katya cry. She’s only had a sister for a half a day, surely that’s too soon.

“You didn’t do anything, Jel-, Jane, sorry. I love that you’re here, please believe that. But I hate that you’re here and don’t remember me, I hate that you weren’t at my wedding because I couldn’t invite you. And I hate myself because apparently I didn’t care enough about you to notice that you’re eighteen and that I could have found some way to-“

Jane shushes her. “Katya. I’m not sad or angry about anything. At least not at you. It’s their fault we don’t know each other, fuck I barely knew you existed. But we can still fix that?”

They won’t get back the childhood memories Jane should have of Katya, she’ll never have been at her wedding and Katya will never have been in the audience at her ballet recital, or her fourth-grade graduation, or her twelveth birthday party.

But they could make new memories. They didn’t have to have no family, they could figure it out.

Katya takes her hand into hers and Jane could swear there are tears glistening in her eyes again. “Yes please.”

“Трахни ее,” Jane feels a single tear escaping her eyes as well. She promised herself not to cry about her shit ass parents. But she isn’t crying for them, this for the sister she never had the chance to grow up with and she sister she can still get to know.

Katya gets up a few moments later. “If I stay out any longer Trixie’s going to worry,” she hesitates for second, then pulls Jane in for a hug. Jane hugs her back and breathes into Katya’s blonde hair and it smells like coconut. She feels oddly safe.

"Katya?" Jane whispers. "If you want to, Jelena is fine."

When Katya pulls away, she squeezes Jane’s shoulders. “Cпокойной ночи, котёнок.” she strokes Janes hair for a second and goes inside.

Jane stays put for a second. She remembered that. спокойной ночи, котёнок. Good night little kitten.

There’s no picture in her head no vivid animation, it’s not an earth-shattering memory. But a vague snippet of a voice saying that and stroking her head. Katya’s voice.

It doesn’t change the big picture. They still don’t know each other; they might have nothing in common but the people who kicked them out.

But still, Jane didn’t only have a sister for half a day, she’s also had a sister for eighteen years.

Chapter Text

Jane wakes up quite early the next morning and has some initial confusion of why she is in a strange room. Usually if that happened, she would at least not be in the bed alone.

The last day comes back to her, and she calms down. She pulls the comforter over her head and closes her eyes, not ready to face the day yet.

Coming here seemed like her only choice, and she’s already glad she did it. Doesn’t make it any less daunting, tough.

Some time later, she’s pulled from her half-sleep by a soft knocking on her door.

“Come in,” Jane mumbles and pokes her head out the blanket.

Trixie comes in, still in pajamas and face bare. She looks younger like this, Jane thinks, and realizes she doesn’t know Trixie’s age. She had such a mothering energy towards Jane, that Jane forgot that they might not even have that much of an age difference between them.

“Did you sleep okay?” Trixie asks tentatively.

“Oh yeah,” Jane says, deciding to leave out her mildly panicked waking up. “This is the
most comfortable mattress I ever slept on I think.”

“Happy to hear,” Trixie smiles kindly. “We’re having breakfast in a minute if you want to join. Katya’s making… something.” Trixie pulls a face that Jane can’t quite place.

Jane can’t help but smile though. It’s nice that they’re trying to include her, like didn’t barge in here unannounced disrupting their peaceful life.

“Sure, I’ll be out in minute,” Jane responds and Trixie nods, closing the door behind her.

-

Jane’s make her way to kitchen barefoot, hair half-heartedly put in a bun. Trixie and Katya are chatting in the kitchen, Katya moving around the counter and stove, Trixie absentmindedly typing away on her phone at the table.

There are fresh flowers in the middle of the table, yellow ones, and a pot of coffee already brewed.

„Good morning sis “, Katya singsongs at Jane, flipping pancakes at the stove. „Did you sleep well, sis? Am I overdoing this sis? “

Trixie looks up from her phone and chuckles, Jane just snorts and sits down opposite Trixie.

“This is sort of addicting, sis. I can’t seem to stop, sis.”

“I fear you’re doing too much, sis”, Jane says, imitating her singsong-y voice and glancing at the pan in Katya’s hand. She doesn’t say how touched feels by that.

Trixie snorts at that. “You’ve never had her cooking, otherwise you’d know how this is opposite of overdoing it. This is underdoing it,” she shudders. “This is disrespectful to both me and you as people.”
Surely, Jane thinks, it can’t be that bad?

Trixie turns out to be right, Katya at the ripe age of thirty-four apparently can’t cook for shit. One of Jane’s pancakes is still raw in the middle and the other is burned beyond recognition. She eats them without complaining, because Trixie is doing the same to a lump of flour that was in the middle of hers.

Even Katya seems vaguely concerned by some the bites she takes, eyeing them curiously on her fork and making faces while chewing.

“Okay I got it out of my system,” Katya sighs. “I won’t cook again this year.”

“Thank god,” Trixie and Jane blurt out at the same time. Katya pretends to be offended.

“I’m sorry honey, I love you, but I did not marry you for your cooking”, Trixie coos. “If anything, I’ll divorce you for it one day.”

“Why did I get taught how to cook and you got- whatever that was?” Jane asks, swallowing her last mouthful of, well, that.

“Same reason I know how to cut down a tree and I bet you don’t,” Katya pouts. Well, Jane really does not.

“You had like, sixteen years to learn it though,” Jane remarks.

“Trixie can cook!”

“Trixie can’t, Trixie can make edible food. Somehow that makes me fucking Gordon Ramsey around here,” Trixie huffs.

Katya pretends to be offended as she clears the table and Trixie coos after her. Jane takes her second cup of coffee out to the terrace and smokes.

She’s amazed at much easier things with Katya, and Trixie by association, today. They’re both funny in the way that people around Jane never really got, and Jane finds it surprisingly easy the be around them. Neither of them seems easily offended and Jane, who tends to more or less accidentally step on people’s toes is glad about it.

Jane stays outside for a while, scrolling on her phone and lighting more cigarettes. Katya joins her at her third, now with make up on and out of her pajamas.

“So, I’ll have to ask you something, but if it’s not cool, we can totally figure something out,” Katya says, holding out her hand for Jane’s lighter.

“Okay,” Jane answers, passing the lighter.

“Trixie just left for work, she has this wedding shoot, and you really can’t cancel on a bride, that’s like, no. I technically have to go work too and do inventory, but if you’d rather not be alone you can come with, or I can call in sick,” Katya lays out.

“I mean I can just stay here if that’s alright?” Jane asks, unsure if they maybe don’t want her alone in their house. Which would be fair, but she hadn’t really gotten that vibe before.

“No, of course! We just thought, maybe you don’t want to be alone?”

Normally Jane doesn’t like people fussing over her, but in her life that has only ever been her mother, whose concern was less than genuine to Jane. Katya’s seems sincerely worried about her, and Jane does not have it in her to be annoyed at all. Is this what normal people feel like when someone is nice to them?

“Honestly I’m fine, I’ll find something to keep myself busy,” Jane responds.

Katya keeps looking at her, trying to figure out if Jane’s faking bravery or truly as fine as she acts. She actually is better than she thought she would be.

“I’m good Katya, honestly. I cried for like a day and then I stole dad’s credit card to book a flight out. Bad part is over.”

Katya chokes on her cigarette. “You did what?”

Jane smirks. “Did I forget to mention that? Flew first class, too.” It had been quite comfortable, but the idea of her parents getting a multiple thousand-dollar bill for Jane’s overweight luggage and overpriced ticket? That was priceless.

Katya shakes her head laughing. “I love that so much. So, so much,” she cackles. “You young people are even better at getting kicked out, I had, like, a backpack, a hundred dollars and a dream,” she snorts.

“I bought like ten packs of cigarettes too, then gave the card to a homeless guy at Logan. I hope he had some fun with it.” She even wrote down the pin.

Katya wheezes so hard at that she has to catch her breath.

“Amazing work, truly,” she laughs eventually, when she calms herself again. “I think I’m really going to like you,” Katya winks.

“Aren’t you supposed to like, love me unconditionally anyway?”

“Are you sure we have the same parents?”

They both laugh hysterically at that.

“Also, I do. Obviously,” Katya says softly before going back into house.

Katya gets ready for work and stops on her way out to present Jane with a key with a furry red keychain.

“It’s our spare key, I’ll go get another one made later. Trixie told me I lock myself out too often to not have a spare key around,” Katya huffs.

“Is she right though?” Jane asks, taking the key thankfully and twirling it around her finger a little.

“She is, unfortunately. She’s right most of the time, it’s very annoying. So, I’m getting another copy made at some point, you just keep that one. We’ll get you the spare key to my car too, if Trixie remembers where I put it,” she shrugs apologetically.

“You don’t have to do that, but thank you”, Jane smiles. She loves of much Katya is trying, but she’s very bad at accepting anything unconditionally. Not a lot of practice.

“So, you’re really fine if I go to work now? If you get bored or anything you can just come over, it’s like a twenty-minute walk,” Katya offers again.

“I’m not even twenty-one, would I even get in?”

“Yes, we check ID very frequently. Especially of guests of people who work there. Super strict about ID, sure,” Katya deadpans.

“I’m good, I might go for a walk or something. You don’t need to worry so much; I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” Katya says. “I’ll be back at like eight, Trixie probably earlier. Call me if you need anything- oh my god you don’t have my number!”

And that’s Jane ends up with Katya’s number, Trixie’s, as well as their respective places of work.

-

An hour after Katya leaves, the house does get too quiet for Jane.

She needs to do something, the rest of her life needs figuring out.

College in Boston was off the table, college at all was probably off the table. She wasn't too phased about it, she just wanted to go to get out of her parents’ house. That was achieved, one way or the other.

So, a job? Jane, privileged as she unfortunately was, never worked a day in her life.

If she didn't want to overstay her welcome here, she should earn some money, she figured. Eventually get her own place. But where? Well, some thinking still to do there.

She gets out her laptop and realizes she never got the wifi password. Well, some coffee shop it is.

Make up must go on first, because she feels more confident if she looks as good as possible. And confidence was very much needed. She puts on sharp brows and dark, but still day-time wearable eye make-up, finishing off with a dark gloss.

She gets dressed, realizing she doesn't have that many clothes suited for LA in the middle of summer. She ends up in white linen pants and a black strappy top. It's a little basic but her tits look good.

She doesn't bother looking up a cafe, embracing the chance the explore the city she's going to be staying in for the foreseeable future.

LA is a little too warm for her liking, thank God she looks great in sunglasses though.

She walks along palm tree lined streets, passing women coming from yoga with mats on their arms, people drive by her in convertibles. It's hard to not feel like she's at the beginning of a movie.

Lost and impressed girl from the country taking the city, she envisions. Well, girl from slightly smaller and colder city. Whatever.

She skips two places selling smoothies and juices that look cleaner than the insides of hospitals. She has a little too much east coast judgement in herself to embrace that.

When she's walked about fifteen minutes, she spots a tiny coffee shop with a terrace. She decides to try her luck.

It seems completely empty, there's only a girl with dark hair smoking on the terrace, her back turned toward Jane.

Jane walks in anyway, right up to the counter. She takes in the place. It's not what she expected LA to look like, and she likes that.

The whole place is cluttered with random decor, tables and chairs are mismatched; old armchairs dotted around every so often. The walls are covered in vintage frames and mirrors, the lamps cast a soft orange light.

It reminds her of Katya and Trixie's house, if their aesthetic wasn't gay but more grandmother. She means it as a compliment though.

"I'm sorry, I'll be right there!" There's voice behind Jane and some hectic pacing.

It's the girl who smoking outside, apparently the barista. Jane didn’t notice the apron from behind. She rounds the counter and stops across Jane with a beaming smile.

"What I can I get you?"

Jane forgets how to breathe for second, because well, she's very gay, and beautiful girls tend to do that to her.

She’s shorter than Jane and built slight and slender. She has silky black her that she's twisting up to put in a yellow claw clip. She has the smoothest porcelain white skin and biggest sparkling eyes.

The girl cocks her head and Jane forces her brain to stop thinking about how soft that hair must feel and instead act like a normal person.

"Can I uhm-," she vaguely glances over the board behind the girl. "I'll have an iced americano, please."

"Sure, that'll be just a second," the girl smiles and turns around to fix Jane's drink.

Jane pays and goes to sit outside, right next to the door.

She considers going back to talk to the girl, but she can't bring herself to do it. She has better things to do then look for hook ups to take home to her married sister's guest room, and she'd never been good at making friends.

So, Jane stays put, sips her coffee and puts her laptop in front of her.

She needn't have worried though, because the girl appears in the doorway a few minutes later. She has her arms crossed and leans against the frame.

"You're new here", she says, like a statement and not a question. Jane frowns.

"Oh, I don't mean to be rude, it's just that we usually only have the same regulars. And you're like, not one," the girl shrugs.

"Impressive that you can keep track of all those customers," Jane responds, motioning around the empty patio. Bitchy had always been her go to response to most things, unfortunately.

Luckily, the girl laughs. Even more to Jane's shock, she sits down across from her.

"Don't tell my manager I'm taking a break when it's packed inside," she winks at Jane. "I didn't get your name though; I really should have written it on your cup."

“Horrible service, truly,” Jane laughs. "It's Jane."

"Hi Jane, I'm Nymphia. So, how's your boring black coffee?" Nymphia asks. Jane likes the name, it suits her.

"You know, I'm starting to see why you don't have a lot of regulars," Jane frowns, sipping from her perfectly acceptable coffee, thank you very much.

"That's a sign for someone new here too, no one in LA drinks black coffee. Always some new syrup that I've never heard of, and we more than likely don't have," Nymphia sighs.

“Okay, you caught me, I’m new. I won’t drink lavender kale coffee though, clock me for all I care,” Jane says, toying with her straw.

The back and forth with this girl is easy, she is so charming that it even distracts Jane from just wanting to stare into those sparkling dark eyes. God, she’s so gay.

“So, where are you from Jane?”

“Boston.”

“Never been, what’s it like?”

“Colder,” Jane shrugs.

Nymphia laughs.

“I moved here from Taiwan a year ago, I haven’t seen anything but LA,” she explains.

Taiwan, damn. And Jane thought she had moved far away.

“So, Jane, what brings you to sunny California?”

Jane takes another sip of coffee, trying to think. “I’m uh, staying with my sister. Maybe staying here permanently, I’m not- I don’t really know yet.” She figured the whole getting kicked out thing might not be something you should tell people as a first thing.

“You should totally stay. I don’t get any customers under like, forty. Never have anyone to chat with,” Nymphia winks.

“Oh, so I move here for your entertainment?”

“You know we’ve known each other for at least three minutes, it’s really the least you could do,” Nymphia says, faking seriousness.

Jane laughs. She’d honestly do it, that’s the worst thing.

“So, you moved from Taiwan to make coffee for old people. There aren’t any coffee shops in Taiwan?”

“Yeah, totally. I just wanted more tiny dogs pushed around in strollers. It’s inspiring, really,” Nymphia nods along. “I go to school for fashion design actually.”

“Okay that’s honestly just really cool, I don’t have a joke for that,” Jane admits.

“I love it, and there’s so many more opportunities here. Did take me a while to settle in, though, new country and all. Do you know anyone else besides your sister here?”

I barely know my sister, Jane thinks.

“Uhm, her wife? If that counts?” She could swear that Nymphia’s mouth twitches up a little at the mention of a wife.

“Do they act like an old married couple, or do they go out with you?” Nymphia questions.

Jane doesn’t even think about that. “Old married couple, definitely.”

“That doesn’t count, you need people to show you LA is fun!”

“I don’t see any volunteers, so…,” Jane says, holding eye contact with Nymphia.

Nymphia claps her hands. “You sure do! Give me your phone,” she says, and holds her hand out excitedly.

Jane passes over her phone, and receives a new contact called Nymphia with a yellow heart emoji. She texts her a short hi, so that Nymphia has her number too.

“I have a design job I need to finish this evening, but tomorrow is Friday, if you want to go out?”

Jane agrees and Nymphia smiles, looking content.

“Oh sorry, were you working on something?” Nymphia asks then, looking at Jane’s open laptop.

Jane shrugs noncommittally. “I was going to look for a job. If I end up staying a while, you know.”

“What do you want to do?” Nymphia asks, seeming genuinely interested.

“I have no idea. And a high school diploma. So, it’s looking very hot, you know,” Jane muses. “I used to dance, but like. There are better people who care about way more than me, so I’m not gonna like to try and be a dancer.”

She’d thought about it, for a second. Only because LA sort of warranted an artistic pursuit, but Jane was a decent dancer, not an incredible one. She also had the wrong body type for professional ballet and stopped taking it as seriously right around when she realized that.

Nymphia pauses to think for a second, tapping her fingers on the table.

“Okay, this might be way off, but I have a regular who comes here all the time, and she has a dance school. She said she was looking for someone to take over some beginner classes.”

Jane thinks about that. That might be more fun than being a barista or waitress, no offence to Nymphia. Not she seemed to be working a terrible amount.

“I mean I don’t know if I’m really qualified. I’ve never taught anyone.”

“Brooke isn’t really about qualifications and stuff, if she thinks you’re good and your vibe, she’ll be happy,” Nymphia explains. “Let me write down the address.” She grabs a pen out her apron and starts scribbling on Jane’s receipt.

Jane only really notices how pretty and cursive Nymphia’s handwriting is.

-

Nymphia urges Jane to stop by the same day. If she wasn’t so nice to her, and repeatedly telling her that she’d text her about going out tomorrow, Jane would have thought she was trying to get rid of her.

But she couldn’t sense anything malicious at all coming from Nymphia, the girl was all soft, genuine smiles.

So, that’s how Jane ends up in front of Hytes Dance Studio, double checking the address with Nymphia’s note.

She has no idea how to go about this, a large part of only went right now because what, was she going to tell Nymphia she was nervous?

Jane folds the paper and puts it into her pocket and stomps out the cigarette she smoked on the walk over on the curb. She breathes in deeply. She has done worse this week. This would be fine.

The doors are unlocked, and she soon finds herself in at an empty reception desk. No one seems to be working it, so Jane wanders in further. There’s a dance room to her left, the door open and a blonde woman taking notes of some sort.

Jane tentatively steps in, knocking on the open door for good measure.

“Hi, I’m looking for Brooke?”

“That’s me, what can I do for you,” the woman smiles and walks over to Jane to shake her hand.

“I’m looking for a job, and a- someone mentioned you were looking for help?” Jane almost stumbled there, calling Nymphia her friend. A little too soon for that.

Brooke looks over Jane. “I’m looking for someone to take over some ballet classes in the younger age groups, like six to ten. I’m getting back into competing this year and I really need some more time to practice. How long have you dances?”

“I started when I was five, up until last year,” Jane explains.

“Why did you stop?”

To piss my parents off. “I don’t have the right body type to ever go professional, and it kind of killed my excitement for it, until I stopped altogether,” Jane tries to explain. “But I have just moved here, and I really would like to something with dance again, I’ve missed it.”

Jane only realizes how true that is when she says it out loud. She had always the mindset that if she didn’t excel at something, why bother. But now, standing in the studio with the mirrored walls surrounding her, she feels so much excitement.

“I’ll need to see you dance first, but if you did over ten years the moves for littles shouldn’t be a problem. Would you want to come back tomorrow? I have some time before the first class at one,” Brooke offers.

“Sure, I’ll be there!”

“Let me just put down your name real quick, so I remember,” Brooke says, clicking her pen and flipping over a page in her notebook.

“It’s Jane. Dunayevskaya.”

Brooke looks up at her last name. “Russian?”

“I’m from Boston. But my family is, yes,” Jane explains.

“The kids will butcher that,” Brooke chuckles to herself. “Well, lovely to meet you tomorrow, you can borrow point shoes if you don’t any.”

Brooke shows her out, and Jane is left on the sidewalk outside the building again. That went well, she thinks.

In general, these past two days have been going better than the last three years of her life, it’s a bit unsettling.

She walks back to Trixie and Katya’s house, almost without looking at Google Maps on her phone and enjoys the warm sun on her face.

-

When she gets home, she doesn’t want to think too hard on how quickly she started calling it home, Jane debates making dinner, but is quickly humbled by the state of the fridge. Somehow there's food in it, and in the cabinets too, but it's more snack and vibe based, apparently, and an impressive selection of fizzy drinks.

Going to the store might seem like she's trying to hard, and she's to lazy to look up where the next one even is. In any case, her luck would be one of them has a deadly allergy and she sends them to hospital. So maybe some other time.

Jane scrolls on her phone a bit, finally answering the texts to her friend Kori. She had stayed with Kori for a night before she found a flight, she had turned out to be real friend.

No one else had even noticed she was gone, or they didn't care. Well, neither did Jane. Jane had done her best to be an untouchable queen bee in high school, so that no one would dare spread words about seeing her in more seedy bars in town or making out with girls behind the dumpsters of said bars.

Jane was so mean that one would have dared to try her, but beautiful enough that people were nice to her face. That had suited her just fine. Kori had seen through some of the bullshit after they ran into each other in a queer bar downtown. They never really talked about it, but they occasionally shared a cigarette behind the bleachers.

She texts Kori that she's in LA, that she's probably staying for a while, or at least not coming back. She doesn't expect a reply, and that's fine, too.

Jane flicks through some TV channels and loses track of time until she hears the front door unlocking.

"Honey, I'm home,” Trixie singsongs as she enters the house.

“Katya’s still at work, it’s just me.”

“Hello, my second favorite Russian,” Trixie says and dumps her handbag on the floor. Jane notices she’s carrying takeout boxes and carrying them over to the kitchen. Judging by the amount, she at least planned for Jane as well, maybe for a small sports team showing up as well.

Trixie rants a little about her client of the day, apparently a very demanding woman booked Trixie without considering that no-make make-up-looks were not what she was known for, and then complained about any amount being too much.

“I don’t get it, my entire Instagram is huge, in your face fun make up. I’m expensive as hell, why hire me to put on your clear lip-gloss and tinted moisturizer,” she sighs.

Jane nods understandingly. Trixie’s make-up was bold as hell, and that was coming from Jane. She could appreciate the artistry behind it.

Katya comes home shortly after, and they eat dinner on the couch. She was never allowed to do that home, and wonders if Katya remembers that, too.

Trixie didn’t know what Jane would like apparently, so she got a lot of variety. Jane isn’t very fussy with food and just picks a box of pad thai which turns out to be delicious.

“So, Janey, how was your day home alone?” Katya asks over a big bite of noodles.

“Okay, I guess. I went for a coffee, which was surprisingly hard to find. I might have made a friend, which is even more surprising. Oh, and I have an audition for a job tomorrow so that’s good.”

“An audition?” “A friend?” Trixie and Katya respectively exclaim.

“The girl who walks at the coffee shop I went too, she invited me out tomorrow night. She seemed nice,” Jane shrugs. She doesn’t mention that she was also gorgeous and reminded Jane of the fact that all of her usual hookups were a thousand miles away. “She mentioned a dance studio that was looking for someone to teach some classes. Oh, I did ballet, maybe I should mention that. For like, a long time. The owner wants me to come by tomorrow morning.”

“That’s so great Jane,” Trixie congratulates her.

“Which dance studio, should we drive you?” Katya adds.

“It’s like ten minutes away, don’t worry about it. Hytes something.”

Trixie and Katya share a look when she mentions the name.

“Do you know it?”

Katya suppresses a grin. “Uhm, we might know Brooke, she’s very nice.” That expression is now very readable.

“Oh god, you slept with her didn’t you?”

Katya shrugs her shoulders apologetically. Trixie cackles a little too loudly at that though, and Jane notices her cheeks have turned red.

“You too?” She groans. Good thing she did not mention any names.

“It was a really long time ago, she’s married too. To a very pretty brunette, I think,” Trixie says.

“And Brooke is just very gorgeous, I won’t apologize for that. If you don’t get it now, just wait until you see her dance,” Katya sighs, earning a slap on the leg and a fake “Hey!” from Trixie.

“So, if mention I know you two, is that going to get me the job or make her kick me in the shins?” Jane narrows her eyes.

“Get the job, if anything. It was one time thing for me, and no one ever dislikes Katya,” Trixie says.

“It’s true, I’m very charming,” Katya adds, nodding.

“Are you guys going to know everyone I meet in like a ten-block radius?”

“Only the gay ones,” Katya promises “I work at a gay bar, and I was pretty wild in my twenties.”

Jane shakes her head in fake disapprovement, continuing with her pad thai.

-

When she goes to her room later, she goes through her still not unpacked suitcase, trying to find something to wear. She didn’t bring any ballet gear, she couldn’t have, she threw most of it away in Boston. Some leggings and a black bodysuit would have to do the trick.

When she checks her phone, there’s a new message from Nymphia.

I work until eight, come by the café and we’ll go to a bar?

Jane texts back a yes immediately, and then puts her phone away. She’s trying to no read too much into this. Nymphia might become a friend. Jane sure could use one of those.