by Tonya Plank
“Shhh,” I said, brushing her head with my palm, which was considerably colder than her head. “Just get some sleep. It will all be better.”
I began giving her a head and shoulder massage, and covering her in the blankets. I retrieved another from the closet, worried one wasn’t enough. I turned up the heat. When I returned to the bed, she was asleep.
I took the envelope containing our Blackpool information out of our luggage and wrote a paper message on its back, telling her I was going out to the drugstore to pick up some medicine for her. I wasn’t going to trust the cell phones again. Not right now anyway.
When I returned, she was tossing and turning but still seemed asleep. I readjusted the covers, which woke her. “I didn’t want to wake you,” I said. “You feel hot. I went to market and bought water and nuts and crackers. And Pepto Bismol and Excedrin. Whatever will help. I will get more if you need.”
“What time is it?” She groaned.
“It’s nine o’clock English time. It’s only afternoon in California. We’re going to be jet-lagged for a couple days. That’s why we arrived early. Can you take this medicine?”
She sat up. I gave her a large bottle of Evian and filled the top cap of the Pepto Bismol to the indicator. She took both and drank.
“Here, this should help,” I said, handing her a box of saltines. She ate two. I also handed her two Excedrin, which she swallowed as well. She ate a few more crackers before lying back down.
“I’m so sorry, sweet. I spent far too much time with old friends and fans today. I got carried away.” I patted her forehead with a cold washcloth. “The first day is our day to catch up and do autographs and all that. Because everyone knows not to bother me when rehearsals really begin. The rest of the trip is all about you. All about us. I promise. Sleep and get well.” I trailed kisses across her cheeks then down her neck before shutting off the lights.
***
“Rory, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?” I asked when I felt her move in bed.
She slowly opened her eyes, looking confused. Her skin looked much less pale and her eyes looked alert. She didn’t look sick.
“Mmmmm, your breath smells like mint,” she moaned, then smiled. “Where—” But then her eyes focused on the costumes hanging in the open closet. I felt her pulse quicken.
“Yes, we’re in Blackpool,” I said, brushing my lips to her forehead, which now felt normal temperature.
“What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes.
“It’s nine. You slept almost twelve hours straight. You needed it, darling. How are you feeling? You look so much better than last night.”
Her eyes darted around the room, as if she was remembering. “Mmmm, better, I think,” she said, now covering her mouth with her hand. “I need the restroom.” I moved away and she rose and made her way to the bathroom. “Ugh,” I heard her say.
“You look beautiful,” I hollered.
“I threw up last night. Gross,” she mumbled, returning to the bedroom, covering her face with her arm. She bent down into her suitcase and retrieved her cosmetic bag.
When she went back to the bathroom, I heard her brushing her teeth and swishing mouthwash around.
“Wow, I am feeling better. Much,” she said, returning.
Yes! “You look so much better. The paleness is gone.”
“Weird. I feel almost like it never happened. I even want to eat, unbelievably.”
“They have a very good breakfast here. Much like the one on the airplane. Full English breakfast. I didn’t know if you wanted me to have it ordered up, if you were up to eating,” I said.
“Yes, definitely.”
***
“Mmmm. I could really get used to these English breakfasts,” she said, devouring her meal. “Especially the baked beans and fried tomato and this heavenly toasty-hushpuppy-doughy thing!”
I laughed. It was pure lard, but I was just so happy she was eating and enjoying.
But she stopped halfway through the deep-fried toast, held her stomach.
“Oh no, what’s wrong?” I said.
“Okay, maybe not. It’s starting to feel the same as the greasy fish and chips from last night. I don’t want to go there again.” She forked the toast aside and took a big spoonful of beans instead. When she finished those, she polished off the fruit bowl. “Okay, that soaked up the grease. I feel better.”
***
She took a long shower, and this time I waited for her in the room. Then we headed out to the Winter Garden to meet our fellow U.S. teammates for our first practice. I’d scheduled a private practice in the back room for us before the team meet, but I canceled this morning, deciding it was better to let her sleep in.
“Thanks so much for letting me take my time this morning,” she said to me as we walked toward the hotel’s lift.
“It’s most essential that you are feeling well,” I said, kissing her forehead as we waited for the wooden box to arrive in our empty shaft. “Far more important than getting one more practice session in. We know our routines. It is what it is now.” I kissed her again, now on the lips.
Despite my words and soft kisses, I could feel her nerve endings practically vibrating with energy through the pores of her skin. As were mine.
We exited the hotel and walked, hand in hand, toward the opera house. I heard my name called from behind. It was Valentin, with several other familiar faces I hadn’t yet seen here.
“Everything okay now?” Val asked, looking back and forth between Rory and me.
“Yes, it is. Hey, thanks for last night, man,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Hey, any time, any time,” he said, patting me on the back and giving Rory a nod and a smile. “Just glad you’re okay,” he said to her.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing. “Nice friends,” she said to me under her breath.
She was right about Val. He’d always been a good guy. We’d definitely have to keep in better touch between comps this time.
Daniil, another Russian I knew from New York, always the joker, gave me a big bear hug from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. I laughed, though I wasn’t really in the mood for his hyperactivity right now. He tapped Rory on the shoulder, making her turn suddenly. Russians were a bit more harsh than Americans with movement and physical touching. I could tell the tap was harder than she was used to and that he’d startled her. He asked her if I was giving her a hard time, like I did all my “poor women,” but he asked in Russian.
“No!” I said to him, laughing. “I’m not giving her a hard time, and…what do you mean, my poor women? Xenia? What about poor me?” I was so caught up in my response, I’d forgotten to tell him she didn’t speak any Russian. She looked back and forth between the two of us, wide-eyed and questioning.
All my friends burst out laughing.
“You are a known pain in the ass, to all of your partners,” Max said.
“You’re infamous for it!” Sergei added. More wild Russian laughter.
I had to join in. Okay, they were right. I had been a pain in the ass. But no longer.
“Anyway, we should hear it from her,” Daniil said, turning to Rory. “Sasha’s hardly one to be objective.” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows dramatically. “So, is he treating you well?” Rory’s eyes widened at his raised brows.
“She doesn’t speak Russian, D-Man,” Val said. “She’s American.”
I thought it was funny anyone had even assumed she was Russian. Rory looked one hundred percent American to me.
“Ooooooooh, American!” Daniil said, making the word sound ridiculously sexual.
“How did you get an American to take all your shit? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Lucas, Daniil’s friend, joked, in Russian. More laughter.
Rory shot me a look I could read well: What the hell are you telling them? I grinned and rolled my eyes.
“Okay, guys, you’re embarrassing her,” I said. “Seriously, we’ll talk later and I’ll catch you all up. Right now, we’
ve got to get to team practice. “It’s a big day, her first time here and all.” I raised my hand in the air, as if asking them, please, let us go for now.
“Okay, yeah, yeah, we’ll get off your case. But only out of respect to your new lady,” Lucas said, imitating Daniil’s raised eyebrows.
“You treat her nice, now,” Daniil joked then patted Rory again. She was ready for it this time and smiled sweetly at him, her eyes still filled with question marks.
“Mind telling me what that was about?” she asked after they took off, bounding ahead of us.
“I just told them we needed to get mentally prepared and needed to get going.”
She stopped and put her hands on her hips, shooting me a dubious look. “Seriously. That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
I shrugged. My adrenaline was starting to surge and I didn’t want to go through the whole You’re a miserable partner jabbing.
“Sasha! They were talking about me? What did you say about me?”
“Just that you are my new partner. And then I added that you’re American when it was clear Daniil didn’t get it,” I said.
“Well, it sounded like you said something sexual, by their reactions.”
I knew she was going to think that, the way they acted. “No, not me. The one who made it sound sexual was Daniil.”
“How is my Americanness sexual? Does he think we’re all Pamela Anderson or something?” She laughed but I could tell she was annoyed. And her reference to Pamela Anderson made me think she was back to the body issues thing again.
“Rory, no.” I stopped and looked her straight in the eye, my mouth a solid line. “Rory, don’t be ridiculous. They think nothing of the sort. I haven’t seen Daniil in a while, but that’s just the way he is. I’d forgotten. He and Lucas and the others, they are just very…they are just very happy for me. That I have an American partner and that I seem happy. For once. Because they know I’m…I’m usually not. Especially at this point in the game.” And then I realized how much being with Rory had changed me. My partners and I were usually on the verge of killing each other by competition time.
She softened and her lips curled. “Aw, how could I be annoyed with that?” she said, pulling my arm around her and wrapping herself in my embrace, snuggling next to me as we walked. I squeezed her arm and kissed her cheek.
***
We entered the Winter Garden and I checked us in at the registration desk. When I returned to Rory, she was holding her cell phone, a huge grin lighting up her face.
“What is it?” I laughed. Her beautiful smile was infectious.
“Just a funny text from Samantha,” she said, putting the phone in her bag.
I looked at her quizzically, prompting her for more information.
“She just said she knows we’ll rock it and I’m a goddess and all,” Rory obliged, with a giggle.
“And she’s so right. On both fronts.” I was unable to refrain from kissing her soft, sweet cheek again. I loved seeing her at ease. She tasted like honey.
“She also says I should try some Japanese restaurant in the basement that’s set up just for Blackpool? She said they have great curries, and it’s the best place for food around here.”
“Oh yes, it’s the Japanese costumer who puts it up every year. She’s right. Probably the healthiest alternative. We’ll go later today.”
***
I laced my arm through hers and took her down the long hall that led to the ballroom.
“Sasha!” someone shouted.
I turned to look. It was someone I didn’t know. A twenty-something woman with short blonde hair, holding a Blackpool program.
“I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to sign my booklet?” she said, holding it out to me along with a pen. She was British, by the sound of her accent.
“Of course.” I took the program and pen and signed, as I had last night. She giggled when I returned them to her.
“Thank you so much! I can’t wait to see you dance! You’re just, so amazing!”
“Thank you very much.”
“And you’re on tonight too, right?”
“Yes, for the team match,” I said, then heard another voice.
“Hey, he’s signing!” I looked beyond the woman and saw in the distance, many, many more people coming toward me, likewise holding programs.
“We’re such fans,” said a voice behind me. I turned to see two more women, one with long dark hair, one with a platinum bob. The one with the bob, who spoke, was also British. “We heard you had a new partner. Can’t wait to see the two of you out there!” She didn’t at all acknowledge Rory standing beside me. She only spoke to me. Her bob bounced with every syllable.
I smiled and took their programs. They giggled in unison as I signed.
“Really, we can’t wait,” the other one echoed, pawing my bicep. I smiled at them and handed their programs back.
“Thank you so much,” I said in the polite, professional tone I always used at competitions when speaking with fans.
The masses that had been in the distance caught up to us. I didn’t have time to be signing for long. We had to practice. But it wouldn’t hurt to take ten minutes. We were early, as usual. I smiled and reached for the first program, then the second, then a third. Soon, I found myself trying to balance a stack of the booklets in the crook of my arm.
“No, no, you’re not doing that,” I said when Rory offered to help hold some of them. Altogether, they were heavy.
“It’s Sasha Zakharov!” said another voice, followed by the sound of a cell phone cameras being clicked.
More cameras clicked, and more programs were thrust toward me. I was used to this, but Rory wasn’t. We needed to practice now. I looked at my watch to see half an hour had already passed. Funny, but when I’d been with Xenia in years past, I was so excited for the fans, to be taken away from her clutches, her jealousy and competitiveness, and just plain bitchiness. Now, I felt like my fans were keeping me from my Rory. She was happy to help me appease them, but I soon began to feel her nervous energy, that Samantha had briefly quashed, returning. We had work to do.
“I’m very sorry but I must go practice,” I said. An Asian man tried to add his program to the pile I already held and I shook my head. “No more. I’m sorry. After the competition, I promise. After,” I repeated to the man. I recognized him. I’d seen him at many competitions and I knew his English was limited.
But the crowd only grew.
“This is it. After this stack, I must go.” I eyed Rory. She looked bemused, happy for the attention but concerned as to how I’d extricate us from it, not the least bit pissy and jealous, like Xenia. “Thank you for your support. Really, thank you so much. You don’t know what it means to me,” I said to the crowd again, trying hard to be as polite as I could. My pen was going at the speed of light, and the programs were flying out of my arms, yet more were somehow arriving.
“Hey that’s mine,” a man’s voice called out.
“No, it’s not! I gave him that one!” said a female voice.
“Seriously, you just took my program. It has my name on the front,” the man insisted.
Oh jeez, people were fighting over this.
The woman turned the cover over.
“See!” he said.
“Then where’s mine?”
But I was done. “That’s all for now. I’m sorry. But please do come to the Daiyu tent in the Pavilion on Thursday and I will sign anything you want. And there will be photos. And champagne.”
“Anything I want?” a female voice called out, followed by an outburst of giggles.
“Ah, now, now, now,” I said in a mock-reprimanding tone. “Thank you, everyone. Thank you so much. I’ll see you Thursday.”
“But what about my book?” asked the woman who’d apparently lost hers.
I shook my head, hearing her voice but unable to make out her face. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I have to go. See you all Thursday.”
“We’ll see you
before then! Under the lights! Like tomorrow night!” a woman said. This was followed by more giggles.
“Well, yes, I guess you will, won’t you?” I said, brows rising, cocky smile growing.
I hadn’t meant to do that. I was so used to making that face in the past, that seductive expression. Now the giggling turned to mini-squeals of delight. I needed to get Rory and myself out of this.
“Thank you again, everyone.” I forced my expression back to a polite, professional one. I waved, and took Rory’s hand, leading her briskly down the hall.
Chants of “We love you, Sasha” and “Go, Sasha” echoed down the hall.
“You’re pretty suave when keeping your hordes of fans at bay.” Rory giggled.
We continued on at a brisk pace. I focused straight ahead, making sure not to make eye contact with onlookers off to the side. I could tell Rory tried to keep her gaze with mine, but she kept turning her head, apparently distracted by all the rooms and eateries, and the tangled maze of halls leading off from the main one. This place was immense, I reminded myself. It was fun to see her so intrigued and I was excited to show her around. Later.
We passed the large entryway branching off the main hall that led to the shopping Pavilion. “That’s where we’ll be signing on Thursday. It’s where Daiyu’s tent, and all the other sponsors are,” I said, pointing.
“Wow, I can’t even see down all the way,” she said. “It’s a bit bigger than the one in O.C.”
I laughed. “Yes, quite a bit.”
On the other side of the hall we passed the huge arcade of video game machines and retro pinball machines, the darkly lit pub with red brick façade, the deli with black and white checkered floors, and, around the corner, the massive candy stand. Nothing ever changed here. It was always the same. Which was nice, reassuring. Rory took it all in with the wonder of a child. At the end of the hall, the room forked into two other halls marked “Grand Ballroom” and “Opera House.” Rory walked toward the first one, but I pulled her in the other direction.
“This one leads to several rooms we can use to have private conferences and practice,” I said. “We’re supposed to meet the team here.”
“This place is a maze. You could totally get lost in here,” she said, her voice a mixture of trepidation and excitement.
