by Dani Hoots
I let out a sigh. “We are fine. We have very little loans. Most of our school is paid off. We are off to a good start for our age.”
“Yeah, I bet Clare’s old job paid pretty well,” Sam commented.
Both Clare and I froze. What did he mean by that? Did he know? Did he recognize her?
“You mean with the theater? Yeah she does pretty well,” I said. I really hoped that it was that.
He shook his head. “No, no. Her old job. The one at that club. What was it called again?”
Shit. He did recognize her. Damn it. I glanced over at Clare who was turning red. She didn’t want anyone to know about where she worked, and I did my best to keep it a secret. But how was I supposed to know my own brother had seen her there?
“You must be mistaken, she never worked at a club,” I lied. It was really the only thing I could do.
“What club?” My mother asked. Now all attention was on us. Shit, this wasn’t going well. I didn’t want them to know, I couldn’t imagine what they would say.
“Tom’s fiancé used to work at an exotic dance club. It was a great place, and you are a great dancer, might I add.” Sam laughed.
I was really close to punching him now. He could tell that Clare didn’t want to talk about it.
My father just stared at us while my mother was gaping. My aunt and uncle about choked on their food.
My mother said, “What is he talking about Tom?”
“I…” before I could answer, Clare stood up and ran outside. Everyone was speechless. I hurried after her.
“Clare!” I yelled as I went outside. “Clare wait up!”
She stopped under a tree, tears forming in her yes. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I can’t show my face in there again. They know.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s fine, don’t worry we will get through this. I don’t care what they think, if they knew the truth of why you had to do that, they would understand. Okay? I will talk to them.”
“Hey,” Sam called to us. “What are you two doing.”
Seriously? Was he that stupid?
I turned to him. “How about you get out of here?”
He held his hands up in defense. “Hey, I didn’t realize you were keeping it a secret. Besides, I wanted to make sure you knew the truth about her.”
“Yes, I knew that she was an exotic dancer.”
“What, is that how you met?” Sam asked.
I sighed. “No, we met at school. She told me about it later.”
“And then you went?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, I didn’t because she didn’t want me to see her dancing.”
“Oh, so then you didn’t get to experience the ‘all in’.”
I watched as Clare froze.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Sam laughed. “She didn’t tell you, did she? She wasn’t just an exotic dancer. She was a prostitute.”
I punched Sam in the mouth. I didn’t even think about it. Clare didn’t deserve being called a prostitute. I knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.
“Tom wait! Stop!” Clare pulled me up off of Sam.
“I can’t let him say stuff like that, Clare—“
“It’s true. I’m so sorry, Tom, it’s true.” Tears were falling down her face.
I couldn’t believe what she was saying. She had been a prostitute? She had slept with other men, including my brother. This couldn’t be possible.
I felt disappointed, not because of what she did, but the fact she lied to me. What else had she been lying about? Not to mention she was sleeping with other men while we were dating and hadn’t told me about it.
She pulled the ring off and put it in my hand. “I can’t… I just can’t. I’m sorry Tom. I will find a taxi and head back. I will be out of your hair by the time you are home. I’m sorry.”
Clare ran off towards the street. I simply watched her, not sure as what to do, or what to believe.
She had lied to me and now she had left me without letting me even process what happened. I had lost everything.
“Jeté, glissade, and stop,” Madame Bodrov shouted. No one spoke a word after the music stopped, but kept their posture until otherwise ordered. While this academy for ballet was one of the top in the country, it was also one of the most cruel. One major screw up and we were kicked out.
So moral of the story, don’t mess anything up. Ever.
It was my dream to be a ballerina, to be on stage in Paris, to travel the world and perform. It was a dream that I would stop at nothing to succeed at. I didn’t care the cost, I didn’t care how much pain it could cause me physically or mentally, I wanted to be the best.
Which is why I held my pose, waiting for my instructor to order our next move.
“Nadia, good work. Can you repeat that so everyone else can see how it’s supposed to be done,” she referred to me.
I held my head up high. “Yes, Madame Bodrov.” I did the jeté once more, ending in the glissade just as before. I could feel the other girls’ eyes glaring at me, as I was always Madame Bodrov’s star student. Although it felt good in class, that didn’t mean that many tried to make me fail. I had been pushed, shoved, tripped, you name it, outside of class. This life was a competition and you could never show weakness.
Otherwise they would eat you alive.
We had a show to perform in a week, The Nutcracker, and by now all of us had the dance perfected, but somehow Madame Bodrov would always find something to change. Either one of our hands were too high or too low, even if it was just a centimeter or two. It didn’t matter to me though, as I never seemed to needed to change anything.
Yes, that is why I got tripped a lot.
I tried to stay away from most of the other dancers, knowing that would be my only way to survive. I couldn’t wait to graduate from this academy and get hired on to a theater somewhere away from here. It wasn’t just because of how I was treated, but because of who I loved.
I was in love with a girl.
Her name was Maarika and she was the love of my life. I loved her with all my heart, more than I loved dancing. She was always there for me, rooting me on as I crawled and scraped towards my goal. Now I was almost there and we could go somewhere that allowed us to express our love without repercussion.
Sure, after the fall of the Soviet Union, the laws for LGBT were more “friendly” but that didn’t meant the people were. I had seen on the news the way LGBT were treated on the streets, beaten and yelled at. Even if a couple were seen holding hands they were met with hostility on the street. I didn’t want that for my Maarika and even though I wanted to go out and stand up for my rights, along with everyone else’s, I also was afraid for my life.
Why should we be persecuted for being in love?
It was a question that was always on my mind and was one of the reason I strived to be accepted to a theater in either Paris, London, or even Berlin. It wasn’t just for my sake, but for Maarika’s as well. I wanted to provide her with a life that was less hostile.
We finished up the day finally, as we had been rehearsing for twelve hours now. I changed into my normal clothes, covered in about three different coats. I don’t know if you have ever visited Russia in the middle of winter but it’s not pleasant. It’s cold and everyone wore about twenty layers to keep warm. Maarika and I’s apartment was freezing as we only had a stove to keep warm around. There was a heater but it honestly sucked. Good thing we always had a pot of tea available and kept it near the stove so that it would always stay warm.
I took the shortcut between the theater and my apartment, as shortcuts saved time out in the cold. Everyone knew all the shortcuts to the point where shortcuts were no longer off the beaten path. Only tourists went the long ways to buildings, everyone else used side streets and alleyways.
It had snowed today some more, as the dirt path I think I was stepping on had no footprints on it yet. I sighed, sick of the white snow. Another reason I wanted to leave, to ac
tually go somewhere warm and enjoyable. I supposed that I worked most of the day so it wouldn’t be like I could enjoy it much, but at least I wouldn’t worry about freezing to death in the middle of the night.
I was really lucky that the academy was well heated. I had been going there on scholarship, training the best as I could. Once I was hired, I would just have to give the academy a percentage and that was that. I would be free.
One more year, I kept telling myself. One more year.
Maarika must have seen me coming as she opened the door quickly while I was trying to find my keys. I hurried in and she shut the door.
“I swear it’s still getting colder. When is Winter Solstice again?” she asked as she rubbed her arms viciously. She was still wearing a few light layers.
“Another two weeks. Then the days will get longer and we will see the sun again, or at least hope to see the sun. It’s been cloudy for a while now.”
She gave me a quick peck and and I glanced over to make sure the windows were closed. They were. I mean, I knew Maarika was as careful about these things as I was, but one couldn’t be too careful.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” I kissed her again, a little longer.
She smiled. “So, I’m thinking maybe you should apply to somewhere in Greece or Italy. It’s a lot warmer there.”
I laughed. “But they also don’t pay that well. Remember I need to get in somewhere that can hopefully pay for a way out for both of us. Only then can we be free.”
She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. We are putting a lot on this, though. What if we can’t get out of Russia? What if…” She stopped, not wanting to say the next thing.
What if we can’t be with each other.
I wrapped my arms around her. “Don’t worry, we will figure something out. I promise. If I don’t get hired by a theater, I will figure something out. Okay?”
She nodded slowly bu I could feel her crying. I held her there, tightly, until she calmed down.
I woke up in the middle of the night, shivering. I was wearing socks and long johns, but they didn’t help with the below freezing temperatures outside.
Getting up, I went to check the stove, to make sure the fire was stilling going. It was simply left in embers. I sighed as I quickly grabbed some spare wood and tossed it in. The wood crackled as they started to burn.
Pouring myself some tea, I took a deep breath. I was stressed out about the upcoming show, as it could be my big break. It was stressful to think of all the theater owners that would be there, that would determine whether or not I would get selected for next year’s shows. It wasn’t just about the money, but about the freedom.
It was dark in the apartment, the only light coming from the fire in the stove. I sipped on my chamomile tea, letting it sooth my thoughts. Chamomile is Maarika’s favorite, not mine, but we always had that brewing after the afternoon until morning. Then it was something with caffeine.
I had another long day of rehearsing tomorrow, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep like this. I checked the clock. It was three in the morning. There was no really point of going back to sleep as I would have to be at the academy at six.
Hearing a noise behind me, I glanced over my shoulder. There stood Maarika, wrapped up in a blanket. “I thought I wouldn’t wake you.”
“It’s freezing,” she commented as she sat down next to me. “Of course I woke up. No more heat coming from you.”
I laughed. Right, I had forgotten. It made a big difference here if someone slept with another person or alone.
“Why are you up so early?” she asked as she leaned her head on my shoulder.
I shrugged. “I was checking the fire and then my mind started racing. Figured I wouldn’t get any more sleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”
Maarika snuggled up next to me. “Want to talk about tit?”
“Not particularly.”
She was silent for a moment, as if thinking. “It’s about the ballet, isn’t it? You are afraid.”
I didn’t respond. She could read me like a book, I swore. It was something that I didn’t want to bring up with her, something I didn’t want her to worry about. But it had been eating me up inside for such a long while. “It will be fine, I know it will be.”
“It will be. I have faith in you. You are the best ballerina that I know.”
I let out a little laugh. “And how many ballerinas do you know? Should I be worried?”
“You know what I mean. I have seen you perform a couple times. It’s apparent it’s your passion. They will love you. Doesn’t even your instructor like you above all the others?”
I had to admit, Madame Bodrov did like me better than everyone at the academy. I did my best to keep myself on her good side. It paid off so far as I was the Sugar Plum Fairy, the main leading role for an adult woman.
And the outfit was beautiful. It fit me perfect, the pink tutu with gems lining it. I felt like my dreams were coming true by just simply wearing it. I could not wait to show it off with my new shoes as well. I had been breaking them in carefully this week so that they were still in pristine condition, but molded to my feet enough that I was used to wearing them.
“Yeah, she likes me. I just hope I stay on her good side. A lot of the other ballerinas would like to see me burn so I always have to be looking over my shoulder.” I hated it, really, how vicious some of the girls could be. They would kill to be on top, if not just break someone’s leg. I had even been pushed down the stairs once. Luckily I landed fine and only had a few bruises. Now I always make sure there is no one around when I climb stairs.
“I can’t wait until you are out of there. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I placed my hand in hers. “Likewise.”
We were silent for a moment. Maarika used to stand up at LGBT pride rallies, only to end up getting beaten by the police and other homophobic people that made up most of Russia. I hated them, I hated them. I just wanted to be free.
But we would be free, eventually. Then we could love each other for the rest of our lives. I couldn’t wait until that day came, when I would be able to hold her in public, to not be spit on and beaten. I knew that other countries had their problems with homophobia, but it was on a totally different scale here. Here you could lose your life. Here you could lose everything.
I wouldn’t let that happen to her, no matter the cost.
I got to the academy ten minutes earlier than normal, changed, and got my practice shoes on. I would practice plié before rehearsal started.
And, of course, keep an eye out for everyone else. Just to make sure.
The room was covered in mirrors, so that we could watch our every movement from practically every angle. And, also, no one could sneak up on me. Thank goodness for that.
Plié. Relevé. Plié. Relevé. Plié. Relevé.
I practiced over and over again in first, second, fourth, and fifth position. I repeated them over and over again. They always said practice made perfect, but that wasn’t true. Perfect practice makes perfect. And I lived by that fact.
I could see Madame Bodrov in the mirror behind me. I spun around, to face her.
“You are doing very well, Nadia, I am very impressed. In fact, I think you are the best student I have ever had.”
I tried my best not to show my excitement. I couldn’t let her see how much it meant to me. Emotions weren’t allowed in the ballet here.
“Thank you, Madame Bodrov,” I said.
“In fact, I received word that the manager of the Opéra Bastille is going to be at the ballet. She is keeping an eye out for some new ballerinas. If you perform your best, I think that you might have a shot.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This could really be my chance, even Madame Bodrov said I could do this. Maybe I would finally be in the clear, and Maarika and I could finally be together.
“That would be wonderful. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”
“We
ll,” Madame Bodrov grinned. “Then you better perform your best, huh?”
With that she turned and walked away. I turned back to face the mirrors and practiced my Jeté entrelacé.
The day went by and practice was spectacular. I was so ready to get out of Russia that I knew I had to be the best. Madame Bodrov hadn’t told any of the others about the manager from Opéra Bastille was going to be there, of which I was glad. Then there would be more people after my position.
As I packed my stuff away, I thought I was alone. I couldn’t erase the smile on my mouth as I zipped up my undercoat. I was excited.
