They continued to chat about illustration history as they restocked and processed new shipments in the back of the store, and Roni gave Nina a full list of people to research. Which she did, typing the names into Google images on her phone during her break, job listings up in a separate tab.

Nina liked the look of old fashioned pen and ink book illustrations, but it was hard to imagine someone commissioning her for that today. When she was little, she'd trace her favorite pictures from the books her parents got her, in Russian and English, taking in art influences from Soviet socialist realism to the latest Caldecott winners. Why didn't she want to do that anymore?

Goldie hadn't texted her today. Maybe that meant it was Nina's turn to text first. But what could she say? Her job wasn't very interesting. And she didn't have any other paintings to show off. Maybe she could send a selfie. 

She looked around to make sure she was alone, and snapped a quick photo of her face, pulling her shirt off one shoulder. She tried a sexy pout and immediately felt ridiculous. She opted for a funny face instead, with the caption "bored at work".

Goldie immediately sent a selfie back, but hers was nearly completely whited out by blazing sunlight. Her eyes were squeezed shut against the glare, her red lipstick a blood-colored slash in the pale glow of her face. Behind her was blue sky and a metal railing— she was on a rooftop somewhere. Her hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head, and she was wearing a black tank top that made the paleness of her skin stand out even more. "Lunch with the board of directors," the caption said. Followed in quick succession by pictures of the view and the extremely fancy food. And wine.

Nina looked around the small, dimly lit break room, the punch clock app on her phone warning her she had five minutes left of her half hour lunch, which she couldn't take at the same time as any of her coworkers or they'd be left understaffed, the plastic box of dinner leftovers she'd brought from home to eat, and typed back, "nice! wear sunscreen". Before texting Cory "does fucking a rich girl make me a class traitor or is it #praxis".

To which they replied with a cry-laughing emoji and "Probably nice work if you can marry into it."

Nina tried to imagine the kind of life where people had sunny rooftop lunches with boards of directors on Wednesdays, and wondered if it would be pathetic of her to ask if Goldie still wanted to come down and visit this weekend. Maybe she could ask that on Friday without looking too clingy. 

She was still thinking about it when she walked back to her car after work. Her family wasn't poor, not at all. Their house was small, sure, but they still lived in a house, an expensive house in an expensive town. It wasn't as large or nice as some of Nina's classmates' houses she'd seen growing up, classmates whose parents were doctors or bankers or specialized computer programmers. But it was a house, with a basement and a yard, and that was already an accomplishment. As a child Nina would notice the things kids with doctor parents could have that she couldn't— summer vacations abroad, extra tutoring from strangers instead of an older cousin, trendy new clothes every year, more video games and custom dolls and limited edition stuffed animals than Nina's parents would ever agree to get her. She didn't mind, much, until it was time to commit to a college and she had to take out student loans, while some of her friends had had "college funds" set aside for them from the day they were born. That was where most of her paycheck was going, since she still lived at home. Paying for the dubious decision to go to art school. 

She wondered how much Goldie earned at the gallery, and what she needed the money for. Maybe she donated to charity. Maybe she'd buy Nina's paintings for amounts that would seem absurd to Nina but be pocket change to her. Or maybe she was aware of how much more money she had than someone like Nina, and would never do anything so vulgar as to flaunt her wealth in Nina's face. 

After Nina got home, dropping her new pad of drawing paper and a few tubes of paint in her basement studio space, she closed the door to her room and took a photo of her breasts, holding the hem of her black t-shirt in her teeth and angling the camera in the light to make sure the rhinestones on her bra glittered. Her face was cropped out, as per the Internet safety rules for taking sexy photos she'd memorized in high school, but she was sure Goldie would remember the bra, and the fading bruises peeking out of the cups. 

Goldie sent back a blushing emoji and a string of exclamation marks.

Goldie: I'm out againnnn what is with your timingggg

Nina: out where?

Goldie: drinks with my big sis! Well, at her restaurant lolll she's working rn but she's gonna hang out with me on her break soon

Goldie: you should come! Benicio makes great drinksss

Nina: :/ maybe next weekend?

Goldie: riiiight I forgot

Goldie: you're so far awayyyyy

Goldie: a guy actually tried to hit on me tn u know

Goldie: guess what I told him!

Nina: what

Goldie: that a BEAUTIFUL UKRAINIAN ARTISTE HAS CAPTIVATED ME BODY AND SOUL so I could not POSSIBLY be the SLIGHTEST bit interested in the attentions of this young man

Nina, abruptly, felt an intense flush of shame— embarrassment that someone would talk about her like that to a stranger coupled with the knowledge that Goldie would regret sending her that in the morning.

Nina: so you're the type that gets more talkative when drunk huh

Nina: how many have you had?

Goldie: normal amount!

Nina: don't you work tomorrow?

Goldie: from home lollll gonna sleep innnn yayyyy

Nina: well have some water anyway ok

Goldie: yes mommy uwu

Nina: please don't

Nina: maybe give your sister your phone for now

Goldie didn't respond right away, but while Nina was setting the table for dinner sent her a photo of a plate of some kind of complicated pasta with vegetables, and then a smiling selfie with a slightly older woman in a chef's hat who looked exactly like her minus the makeup. 

Goldie: I'll match u when I get home ;)))

Nina sent her a photo of her own dinner— kharcho her dad made to go with the Imerelian khachapuri they got from the Russian store a few days ago, and Goldie responded with "whoaaaa what IS that??"

"Georgian food, Georgia like the country," Nina explained. She wasn't sure any more detail than that would be useful at this stage. 

"Nina, phones away at the table," her mom said without looking up from her own phone.

Nina stared in silence until her mom looked up.

"I'm reading, not texting," her mom said.

"Olya, she's right, if it's no phones then it's no phones for everyone," her dad spoke up. He dunked his khachapuri slice in the soup like it was an American grilled cheese triangle in canned Campbell's. "On that note, what does everyone think about going to Tbilisi this summer? It's nice there, Nina's never been, my friend Kolya from college could make way better kharcho than I ever could."

"Can we afford that? For all three of us?" Olya added a spoonful of sour cream to her soup. 

"Did you make kharcho to bring this up?" Nina asked, the plum-beef-walnuts taste turning suspicious in the face of this new evidence. 

"I was in a Georgian mood, I guess," her dad said, shrugging.

"I heard the city's overrun with Russians trying to avoid the war right now, anyway," her mom added. "Doubt anyone there would take kindly to more Russian-speaking tourists, even with American passports. Maybe next year would be better?"

"If it even ends by next year," Nina muttered under her breath. Out loud she said, "maybe we could go to France? Or Italy? If we're going to travel." Going back to Russia was obviously out of the question. At least until a death in the family forced them to. Going back to Kyiv, where her dad's parents were from, was equally out of the question.

"France could be nice," Nina's mom mused. "Paris, or Marseille... Nina could see the museums..."

"Well, we can think about it," Nina's dad said brightly. "Don't have to decide right now."

Nina had faint memories of visiting Moscow as a child, but the plane tickets got more and more prohibitively expensive every year. So they stopped. They drove up to Canada to see her mom's cousin every other winter break but otherwise didn't go out of the country much even after they got their citizenships. It might be fun, Nina thought.

After dinner, Nina went back upstairs, locked her door and checked her phone.