Jane's room was small and very cluttered. Jack hadn't been in there before on either of her visits. She took in the walls plastered with posters of athletes she didn't know and bands she might have sneered at if she hadn't decided to go easy on Jane for the time being. This was a kind of favour the other girl was doing her, after all.
She sat down on a threadbare purple couch, sinking in further than she'd expected. Jane watched her with an unusually serious look on her face.
"So, you two argued?" she asked gingerly. "What about?"
That was the exact thing Jack didn't want to talk about. She grimaced.
"There's shit in my past I didn't tell her about, but she found out because her dad's an ass who hates me," she said in a rush.
Jane merely cocked her eyebrows a little.
"What kind of shit are we talking about?"
Jack rubbed her forehead.
"Maybe this was a bad idea..."
"How can I help if I don't know what's going on?"
"I don't need your help for fuck's sake! I'm not a charity case, this is not for you to fix!"
Jane raised her hands placatingly.
"Okay, alright. Sorry. But what exactly do you want from me, then?"
Jack huffed.
"Maybe all I want is for you to listen, okay?"
The other girl nodded slowly.
"I'm listening."
Jack took a deep breath.
"My criminal record, apparently. Petty crime. Miss Perfect can't deal with that. Which is part of the reason why I didn't tell her in the first place."
Jane hummed thoughtfully. If she found the information about Jack's past in any way troubling, she was hiding it pretty well.
"I can see how that could be kind of a big deal for her."
"Yeah I can see that too, thanks a bunch."
"So she broke up with you?"
"There was a lot of yelling and I told her to get lost and she said it was a mistake or something and left..."
"And you haven't talked since then?"
Jack just shrugged.
"As far as I know, she's still upset. What am I to say? Sorry I'm not perfect?" She leaned back into the couch cushions with a sigh. "There's nothing I can do about my past. I've dealt with that shit, I've moved past it, it's not the thing that should define me."
She stared at the ceiling for a while. Jane was silent, and Jack had the strange urge to just keep talking.
"I mean, what does she want from me? I shouldn't have started the entire thing... I don't even know why I did. She was just so... You know that feeling when you see someone and you get excited just because they exist? Ah, fuck..."
Jane gave her a small smile.
"Yeah, I know that feeling."
"I don't even know if she's angry because of that shit, or because I didn't tell her when she asked about my past..."
"Both?" Jane suggested.
"That's not helping!"
"You didn't want me to help."
"Well, it's not listening, either," Jack growled.
Jane laughed at that.
A door slammed.
"Jane? I'm home!"
"Oh, that's my mom." Jane raised her voice. "I'm in my room! I have a friend over."
"Maybe I should leave."
"What? No. Why? We've hardly talked."
Jack snorted.
"Ha. I haven't talked that much with anyone but... her in ages."
Jane gave her a puzzled look.
"You don't have to leave... but if you insist, I can drive you."
"I don't know if I want you to know where I live. I'll never have another quiet minute."
Jane just waved dismissively.
"Oh, don't be like that. Come on, I'll drive."
As Jack stepped into the hallway, Jane's mom was still standing there. She looked a lot like her daughter, but with very curly hair. She gave Jack a look that was very reminiscent of Jane.
"Hey there!"
"Mom, that's Jack."
Jack awkwardly shook the hand Jane's mom held out to her.
"Just call me Hannah, dear. Are you leaving already?"
"Uhm..."
"I'm just driving Jack home, I'll be back in twenty or so."
"Be careful."
Jane rolled her eyes.
"Always, mom."
"Nice to meet you, Jack."
"Uhm, yeah, you too," Jack muttered, wishing for once for a pair of shoes that didn't take forever to put on.
"Nice boots," Jane's mom said.
"Ugh, mom," Jane muttered under her breath.
"Your mom seems alright."
Jane nodded slowly.
"Yeah, I guess she is. Do I turn right here?"
Jack peered through the windshield.
"Yeah."
"Sometimes she involves herself too much in things, though."
Jack gaped at her.
"Really? And that bothers you? You? Are you fucking kidding me?"
For a moment, Jane turned to her and gave her a quizzical look.
"Why?"
"Nothing. That's it, that's where I live. Don't you dare drop by unexpectedly. I mean it."
"I won't. Gee!"
"Good."
Jack turned to open the door.
"You should talk to her, you know? For what it's worth. I think you're both unhappy with the way things are right now."
Jack didn't say anything for a moment.
"Thanks. For the food and... everything," she muttered, then opened the door.
"You're welcome."
. . . . .
She didn't know what to do with herself. That was new. Usually she cherished her sparse free time. Friday nights had always been a refuge of sorts. But Miranda just didn't care for anything tonight. She read the same passage half a dozen times, not taking in a single word, before she put the book away. When she picked up her violin, less out of an actual desire to play and more out of a need to do something, anything with which she could occupy herself, her fingers collectively felt like they were one joint too short. And it made her think of Jack, who'd said she wanted to hear her play, but never actually had. Everything lead her thoughts back to Jack, to be honest.
So she found herself calling Liara. Even as she did so, part of her hoped she wouldn't answer. But she did.
"Hey!" A single syllable, but she could already hear that Liara was smiling. Too nice. Nothing Miranda had ever done warranted genuine kindness and concern like that. But Liara didn't think that way.
"Hey."
"You sound down."
"I..." I miss her. "It's been an odd day. I can't really concentrate on anything."
Liara was silent for a while. Then Miranda heard a faint sigh.
"It's impossible to have this conversation without talking about Jack, you must know that."
Miranda bit her lower lip.
"You can't tell Jane anything. Please don't. She gets so..."
"Forceful?"
"An utter and total pain in the ass."
She was glad it made Liara laugh.
"I can keep secrets."
"Do you promise?"
"I promise."
So Miranda told her everything, words just spilling out of her, as she tried to keep her voice under control. It was easier to do this over the phone, without having Liara look at her. She didn't like things getting to her like that, and she didn't like people knowing. Then again, Liara had seen her break down, and she'd been sweet about it. More than that; she'd actually helped.
"It is a lot to stomach," Liara replied diplomatically once Miranda was done talking.
"But you're disagreeing with something here, don't you?"
"What is it that upsets you most about it?"
Miranda opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again. Then she thought for a moment. The truth was not easy to acknowledge.
"What if he's right? If he's right about Jack, he may just as well be right about everything else. What if my judgement is really that poor? Maybe it were better if I..."
"Do you really believe that?"
Miranda wanted to scream in frustration.
"No! Maybe. I don't know! Why couldn't she just tell me? What does it say about us, about me, that she doesn't trust me? I could have dealt with it if she'd told me. It would have shocked me, but not... not like that. Not with him gloating and radiating 'I told you so'. And dammit, I hate how this is all about my father. Ugh. Part of me knows he's playing me, but I can't really tell if that's wrong, anymore."
Liara was silent for a moment, then she said tentatively:
"Can't you imagine that she may be intimidated by you? It has to be hard to measure up to you in her place."
Miranda frowned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, you are in two very different places. Perhaps she didn't tell you because she was afraid she wouldn't be good enough for you."
"Nonsense. She knows who she is. She's more confident than that."
"You know her better than I do," Liara conceded, but did not actually sound very convinced.
"She wouldn't be intimidated by me!" Miranda protested, but she wasn't sure about it anymore, all of a sudden. After all, hadn't she asked if Miranda only brought her home to piss off her dad? Maybe that had been the same insecurity, and she'd interpreted it as distrust?
"Miranda? Are you still there?"
"I'm sorry for bothering you, I should just... I think I'll try to go to bed early. Good night."
"Miranda, wai..."
She just hung up. It made her feel like a jerk, Liara was always so patient and understanding, but she couldn't talk about this anymore. There were too many thoughts inside her head all of a sudden, and she needed to mull things over. She'd apologize to Liara another time.
Miranda muted her phone, then lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
She awoke still lying fully dressed on her bed, throat dry and her head hurting. She groped for her phone, to look at the time – it was just past midnight. And she had three missed calls. Two, expectedly, from Liara. One from Jack. Miranda cursed, her throat constricting, then she noticed Jack had called less than ten minutes ago.
She hesitated for a moment, but then called Jack back. It rang forever, until Jack eventually said "Hi" very softly, and Miranda's heart skipped a beat at the mere sound of her voice.
"You called me?"
"Yeah, I... I wanted to talk. Fuck, that sounds like..."
"We are talking," Miranda replied.
"No, in person. I'm still near your place. By that playground?"
Miranda blinked.
"What?" She rubbed her eyes, trying to think.
"Can you come down? Please."
The way Jack said it made her heart ache.
"Okay, I'll try to sneak out."