Chapter Five:

I considered playing dumb, but I knew it was useless. If Liza was asking you something, she already knew the answer. I didn’t doubt she knew exactly who Vasha was. I felt my cheeks get hot, and I fiddled with a frayed string near the pocket of my checkered pajama bottoms. Keeping my back turned, I replied; “What's to tell? She's a friend. A good friend...” I sounded a lot more collected than I felt.

“Really, that's it? Weeeeelll, she’s liking a lot of your pictures on Facebook, for being “just a friend.” Liza teased playfully, and handed me her Samsung Galaxy to see for myself.

I snatched the phone out of her hand so fast, then.

What gives? Vasha said she didn’t have a Facebook.

I immediately clicked on her profile. It was empty, aside from a few hilarious looking cat videos. Must’ve been made recently. I clicked on her profile picture, and Liza craned her neck to look over my shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

I scoffed. “Pretty isn’t the term I’d use...” which was true, Vasha wasn’t pretty. She was stunning. A tiny little Russian woman with gorgeous green eyes and a childlike smile. Although she presents in a masculine way, Vasilisa's femininity radiates through her breathtaking laugh and the soft, almost delicate way she uses her hands while she's talking. She was wearing a black sweater, with a white Siberian tiger roaring in the center. Her hands were intertwined along the nape of her neck, grabbing fistfulls of dark hair. She wasn’t smiling in the photo, but those expressive eyes were bright, and playful. I couldn't have picked out a better picture to show Liza, and it made me grin involuntarily.

“Ah! So, a friend of your family’s?” Liza's curious question cut into my thoughts, and I blinked at her.

“No. Just because some of my distant family members live in Russia doesn’t mean they know everybody there!” I couldn’t help but laugh, and moved past Liza into the kitchen, hoping that’d be the end of it. "Besides. What would my homophobic family be doing associating with lesbians anyway?"

While not entirely fair, I probably wasn't far off. I haven't met too many of my Ukrainian family members, but that part of the world isn't really too keen on our community. I wouldn't be surprised if they were against our kind.

But it wasn’t the end, of course. My best friend was a stickler for staying put on awkward, uncomfortable situations.

Lucky me.

“Soooo how DID you meet, then.” Liza sing songed, practically skipping over to where I threw myself on her couch. I groaned inwardly and covered my face with my hands to show my exasperation. I heard her evil giggle and moaned for real.

She was enjoying this WAY too much.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s really cool, Liza.” I was pleading with my eyes for her to stop asking questions. I wasn’t ready to do this, now. Actually, the only thing I wanted to do was put a bag over my head and mope around all day. I hadn’t even checked to see if Vasha wrote yet. I wondered if I'd get the sweet version of Vasha, or the jealous moody one?

I'd take either, I just really wanted to talk to her.

“Whatevs, but...be careful, Francine.” Liza warned warily.

I winced, my full name. She never called me that unless she was pissed off or worried that I was fucking up some area of my life. That's how little she said it.

“Relax, Vasha is a sweetheart. She's my friend, and we enjoy each other's company. There's totally nothing wrong with that. I’ll probably Skype her later. If you’re around, come say hi.” I didn’t bother mentioning Vasha doesn’t understand English. I figured that was for the best, considering Liza’s big mouth. I couldn't even imagine how horrified Vasha would be if my best friend said the wrong thing, which let's be honest, she did a lot.

At my suggestion, Liza crossed her sky blue eyes and raised the spoon she'd been mixing the pancake batter with over her head dramatically. “Sure, just let me brush up on my Russian real quick! No big deal, I should have it down pat in a few hours. Easy.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and it made me scoff loudly.

“You’re such a cunt, Liz.”

"Well, yeah. What rock have you been living under for the past 6 years Ceen?"

We laughed, and then she disappeared into the kitchen to finish her idea of lunch. I took the opportunity to whip my phone out, and checked my messages with a pounding heart.

Vasha's name jumped out at me and I gasped happily. Crazy how just knowing I had something waiting for me from her had my stomach flip flopping the way it was.

SMS: Detka! You’re beautiful. I love your bows. Do you make them yourself?

Attached to her text is one of my Facebook profile pictures. A string of messages asking me to call her when I have some time to talk makes my pulse quicken. Without a second thought, I start typing out a reply as my mouth goes dry. There's so much I have to tell her, but that's not anything knew. I could talk to Vasilisa about paint drying on the wall, and it'd still be interesting because she'd make it so.

SMS: Thanks Vash. Yeah, I like crafting. :) Can I call now? It’s my day off.

I can’t type fast enough. I need her, especially after what happened last night. I’m normally pretty decent at acting like shit doesn’t get to me, but it’s just an act, believe me. I hadn't allowed myself to really feel out my decision to break things off with Katie. It happened so abruptly and just last night, too. I knew Vasha was the antidote I craved. Whatever she had to say would pull me through, no matter how blunt or critical.

To my relief, I watched the three dots emerge at the bottom of our correspondence and held my breath.

SMS: As soon as you can. I miss you so ))))

That’s all I needed. I leaped up, grabbed a few hot pancakes from Liza’s growing stack and hurried to my laptop.

That’s usually how it happened. Vasha would ask if I’m free, and I’d almost always make time for her. It didn’t bother me, I loved talking to her. As I got everything set up, I couldn't hide my growing smile.

"There you are detka. I'm much better now." Vasha adjusted her camera and spoke softer than usual. Currently, I’m watching her get ready for bed. Tobolsk (the city she’s from in Siberia) is fourteen hours ahead of us Americans in Arizona, making it past 2 A.M her time. I noticed her black fleece pajama pants and matching long sleeved shirt and wondered if she always slept so bundled up. Personally, you won't catch me wearing anything to bed except my underwear and even that isn't a guarantee. Then again though, Arizona isn't Siberia and Siberia is cold as fuck. That adorable set she was wearing wouldn't last long out here.

“What are you doing up so late?” I smiled when she shrugged, climbing into her medium sized bed. Her comforter was navy blue, with white and forest green floral trim. I’d never seen her bedroom this well, before. She’d propped her laptop at the foot of her bed, making me assume it was resting against a hard surface. The walls were black, and plain. It all seemed very her.

“I couldn’t stop thinking. I tried to relax, but my brain wouldn't turn off. I made a Facebook earlier so I could look at all your pictures.” She nestled under the covers and yawned from exhaustion. “...But now that you’re here talking with me, my mind is at ease.”

She made a Facebook for me? I couldn't help it, my heart exploded with bliss. I'd been after her to create an account for months, but she adamantly refused. Stating she had enough Social Media accounts to keep up with as it was.

“And why is that?” I asked gently. Vasha didn’t respond, which wasn’t like her at all. Several seconds lingered between us before she finally asked,

“...Tell me what happened with Katie. Is it over? Did you want it to be over? You're alright without her?” I looked into Vasha's moss green eyes as they blinked hopefully at me. I could sense the intensity, and I felt the overwhelming urge to embrace her. I’d never wanted to reach through a computer screen so bad in all my life. She laid on her side and turned her lamp off, effectively bathing the room in darkness. I could hear her rustling around to find a comfortable position, and felt a pang of tenderness for the Russian girl buried under her comforter.

“Yeah, it’s over. We’re not even friends. I told her to lose my number.” I didn’t really want to waste my or Vasha's time reliving last night, at the diner. I recalled Katie’s dark expression and cold words bitterly. She could eat my shorts. I didn’t care if I never saw her again.

“...and could you ever do that to me?” Vasha was half asleep, slurring her words sleepily. In her most vulnerable state I knew for sure she was falling in love with me.

I was petrified. Our friendship has always been special in it's own way, but over the last few weeks I've started to feel it change. Evolve into something stronger. I didn't know how to explain the type of bond we had, especially since we've never met in person, but it felt like I'd known Vasha my whole life. It's almost as if she was present at every horrible experience I told her about, comforting me while I cried and cracking jokes or making silly faces to get me laughing again. She understood me in ways even Liza didn't, and I got the feeling it was the same for her. The idea of Vasilisa falling for me was frightening...but maybe that was because...

No. You live across the world from each other. Be sensible for fuck's sake, Francine. What are you thinking?

Still, I forced myself to respond. “No.” I choked out weakly. “Not you...I’d never do that to you. Ever.” It was true, too. I couldn't imagine my life without Vasha in it and I needed her to know that. No matter how impulsive, jealous, drunk, or otherwise irritated she could get, all I wanted to do was calm her down however I could and keep her around for as long as possible. Every time she pushed me away only to pull me closer, I relented to her. That wouldn't ever change.

I’m not sure Vasha heard me, but she started drifting off to sleep with a content smile on her face. "Goodnight, detka." I whispered softly. I was about to turn my monitor off when I heard her mumble.

“Please don’t go. Stay with me detka...” She hugged her pillow, and passed out promptly. I obliged by muting my microphone and setting my laptop on the bed as I began cleaning up to busy myself. I couldn’t close out of Skype, in case she looked for me when she woke up. She’d told me about her frequent, terrifying nightmares. I wanted to be the first person she saw when she opened her eyes.

I couldn't deny it anymore— it was painstakingly obvious.

Fuck. I was falling in love with her, too.