“I want you with me. I want to take care of you, Danina. You must come.”
“For how long? Another month? Two? And then what?” she said miserably. She knew there was only one solution, but she did not mention it to him. She knew other girls in the ballet who had done it and survived it. She wanted nothing more than his baby too, but they had no hope of having it. Maybe later, but not in the circumstances they were still in. They had to face that, and she wasn't sure Nikolai was ready to admit it. In fact, she was sure he wasn't. He was far too worried about her. “You must leave me, Nikolai,” she said. “You can come back in a few days.”
“I'll come back tomorrow,” he said, and left feeling desperately worried about her, and panicked about her situation. They had only been careless once or twice, but it was the last thing he had expected to happen. And now he had to help her find a solution. This was his fault, he knew, more than hers. And he was agonized that Danina was paying the price more than he was.
But when he returned the next day, neither of them had any simple answers. They could not afford, or take care of, a baby. They couldn't even afford a place to live. It simply wasn't possible, she knew, though he insisted it was, but Danina didn't argue with him. She just lay there miserably, crying silently, and continuing to retch and vomit. He was forcing her to eat now, and drink what she could, and she seemed a little stronger to him, but she was so violently ill, she felt worse rather than better. He was in tears too, as he sat helplessly by and watched her. He knew she'd feel better in a month or two. But in the meantime, she was going through torture.
And when he left again, she went to talk to one of the other dancers. Danina knew for certain that the girl she spoke to, Valeria, had done it, twice, from what she had heard. Valeria told her where to go and who to talk to, and even offered to go with her, and Danina gratefully accepted her assistance.
The two girls left the next morning, as quietly as they could, when the others went to church. It was Sunday, and Madame Markova was at church, as she was every Sunday. Danina was obviously too ill to go, and Valeria had feigned a migraine headache. They left hurriedly, with Danina getting sick every five minutes on the way. They had to walk halfway across town, but eventually they got to the address in a poor neighborhood with filth everywhere around them.
It was a small, dark house, with dirty curtains in the window, and the look of the woman who opened the door made Danina shudder, but Valeria promised it would be over quickly and done well. Danina had brought all her savings with her, and hoped she had enough money. She had been horrified when she heard how much it would cost her.
The woman who called herself a “nurse” asked Danina a series of questions. She wanted to be sure it hadn't gone too far, but two months didn't seem to worry her. And after taking half her money from her, she led Danina into a bedroom in the back. The sheets and blankets looked dirty, and there were bloodstains on the floor, which no one had bothered to clean up after the last visitor had come to see “the nurse.”
The old woman washed her hands in a bowl of water standing in a corner, and she took out a tray of instruments that she said had been washed, but they looked terrifying to Danina, as she turned away from the sight of the old woman.
“My father was a doctor,” the nurse explained, but Danina didn't want to hear about it, she just wanted to get it over with, and she knew that if Nikolai knew what she was doing, he would have done anything to stop her, and once he found out, might never forgive her. But she couldn't let herself think of that now. The worst of it was that they both wanted this baby, but she knew they couldn't have it. There was no way they could even think about it, she had to do this for both their sakes, no matter how terrible it was, or even if it killed her in the end. And as she thought about it, and wondered if it would, the nurse told her to take her clothes off, and Danina's hands trembled mercilessly as she did so. And finally she lay on the filthy bed wearing only her sweater, as the woman examined her and nodded her head. Just as Nikolai had, she felt the small, round, tight lump low in her belly.
Nothing that had ever happened to Danina in her life had prepared her for this humiliation and horror. Nothing she had ever known with Nikolai bore any relation to this, and as she thought of it, she began to vomit. But it didn't seem to stop the woman who called herself a nurse, and she assured Danina it would be over soon. The “nurse” told Danina she could stay for a little while until she was strong enough to walk again, and then she had to leave. If there were problems, she was to call a doctor, and not return here. The nurse said she did not handle problems afterward. After her job was done, the rest was on Danina's shoulders. She would not be allowed in if she tried to come back, the woman said to her somewhat darkly.
“Let's get started,” the nurse said firmly. She liked getting her patients in and out quickly, before they caused her too much trouble. And the fact that Danina was still vomiting didn't stop her, but Danina asked her to wait for just a minute, and then signaled that she was ready. She was too frightened to speak.
Danina braced herself as the woman told her to, and with one strong arm, she held Danina's leg down, and told her in a stern voice not to move. But Danina's legs were shaking too violently to obey her. And nothing anyone had said had prepared her for the sharp pain she felt as the woman plunged into her with the tool she used. Danina tried not to scream as she looked at the ceiling, or choke on her own vomit as she did. The pain seemed to go on endlessly, and the room began to spin around her almost instantly, as she finally slipped into merciful blackness. And then suddenly the woman was shaking her, and there was a cold cloth on her head, as the nurse told her she could get up. It was over.
“I don't think I can stand yet,” Danina said weakly. The smell of vomit was heavy in the room, and the sight of a pan of blood near the bed nearly made her faint again, as the woman pulled her to her feet and helped her to dress without waiting any longer. Danina was reeling with dizziness and pain and terror as the nurse put rags between her legs. It was all too unbearable to think of as Danina walked slowly into the next room to find her friend, barely able to see her through the dizziness that engulfed her, and she was stunned to realize they had been there less than an hour. Valeria looked worried but relieved. She knew better than anyone how bad it was, having been through it herself.
“Take her home and put her to bed,” the nurse said, holding the door open for them, and they were lucky to find a taxi driving past. Later, Danina remembered nothing of the trip back to the ballet. All she remembered was climbing back into her bed, and feeling the rags between her legs, and the searing pain the woman had left inside her. Danina could think of nothing now, not of Nikolai, or their baby, or any part of what had just happened. She simply rolled over in bed with a soft moan, and within seconds, was unconscious.
Chapter 7
When Nikolai came to see her that afternoon, he found her fast asleep in her bed with her clothes on. He had no idea where she'd been, or what she'd done, so he was relieved at least that she was sleeping, until he looked at her a little closer. Her face was gray, and he noticed her lips were faintly blue, and when he took her pulse, he panicked, and then tried to wake her, and found he couldn't. She was not sleeping, he realized, she was deeply unconscious. And when, out of instinct, if nothing more medical, he pulled her covers back, he saw that she was lying in a pool of blood that had spread all around her. She had been hemorrhaging for hours.
And this time, he did not hesitate for an instant. He sent one of the dancers for an ambulance, and in terror he began taking her clothes off. She was very nearly dead, and he had no idea how much blood she'd already lost but what he saw around her looked tremendous. And the rags he found between her legs told him the whole story of what had happened.
“Oh my God … oh … Danina …” There was nothing he could do to staunch the flow of blood. She needed surgery, and perhaps even that would not save her. And as soon as she heard, Madame Markova came running to Da-nina's room. The scene that met
her in Danina's small dormitory told her all she needed to know. Nikolai was sitting beside her, holding her hand as tears rolled down his face. And the look of despair he wore touched even Madame Markova. But as the ballet mistress entered the room, Nikolai's sorrow and sense of helplessness turned rapidly to anger. “Who let her do this?” he asked the ballet mistress sharply. “Did you know about it?” His tone was one of accusation, grief, and fury.
“I knew nothing,” she said angrily, “probably even less than you did. She must have gone out when we went to church,” she said miserably, afraid for Danina's life.
“How long ago was that?”
“Four or five hours.”
“My God … don't you understand that this could kill her?”
“Of course I understand that.” They wanted to throttle each other in their respective terror for the girl they both loved. But fortunately, the ambulance came quickly, and took her to a hospital Nikolai knew well, and he told them what little he knew of what had happened. She never regained consciousness before surgery, and it was two hours before the surgeon came to see him and Madame Markova, sitting in silence in the barren waiting room, staring at each other.
“How is she?” Nikolai asked quickly, as Madame Markova listened, but the surgeon looked less than pleased. It had very nearly been a disaster, and they were giving her her fourth transfusion.
“If she lives,” he said solemnly, “I believe she will still be able to have children. But the outcome is still not certain. She has lost a vast quantity of blood, and whoever did it must have been a butcher.” He described the situation medically to Nikolai, and other than the hemorrhaging that refused to stop despite everything they did, they were deathly afraid of infection. “This will not be easy for her,” the surgeon explained to Madame Markova. “She must stay here for several weeks, perhaps longer, if she even survives it. We will know more by tomorrow morning, if she lives through the night. For now, we've done all we can for her.” Madame Markova was crying softly when the surgeon finished.
“May I see her?” Nikolai asked respectfully, terrified by what the surgeon had said. He would give them no reassurance she would survive.
“You can't do anything for her now,” the surgeon explained. “She's still not conscious, and may not be for a while.”
“I'd like to be there when she wakes up,” Nikolai said quietly, aghast at what had happened, and that he had known nothing about it, and been unable to stop her. They would have worked it out somehow. He had thought about it all night, and turned assorted solutions over in his mind. She didn't have to risk her life to solve the problem. It could all have been worked out, or so he thought.
They let Nikolai into the surgery, where she was still recovering, and she still looked gray to him, in spite of the transfusions she'd been given. He sat down quietly beside her, and took her free hand in his. He held it gently in his own as tears coursed down his cheeks, as he thought of the time they had spent together, and how much he loved her. He would have liked to kill whoever had done this to her. And in the waiting room, Madame Markova was looking devastated and suffering from all the same emotions as he, but they were of no use to each other. Her mentor and her lover were lost in their own thoughts and their own worlds, as Danina struggled for survival.
It was nearly midnight when Danina finally stirred, with a pitiful moan. Her lips were dry, and she could barely open her eyes, but as she turned her head, she saw him, and a sob instantly caught in her throat as she vaguely remembered what had happened, and what she had done to their baby.
“Oh, Danina … I'm so sorry….” He cried like a child as he held her in his arms, and begged her to forgive him for putting her in this situation. He didn't even scold her for what she had done. It was too late for that, and she had paid a high price for it. “How could this happen? Why didn't you talk to me before you did it … ?”
“I knew … you'd never … let me … do it…. I'm so sorry,” she cried too. They both did, for each other and their unborn baby. But now all he wanted was for her to get well. He knew, just from looking at her, that it was going to take a long time for her to recover from all that had just happened. But by morning, the surgeon said she was going to make it, and Nikolai had to fight back tears of relief. And out of respect for her, Nikolai went and told Madame Markova, but after she cried, she left without seeing Danina. The surgeon said she was still too ill to see anyone, and Nikolai agreed with him.
He didn't leave her side until that evening, and only then went home to change his clothes and check on Alexei, and make sure that Dr. Botkin was still able to relieve him. He explained that a friend was gravely ill in the hospital, and he needed to be with her. And although his colleague didn't ask, he was certain who it was.
“Will she be all right?” Dr. Botkin asked gently, startled by Nikolai's ravaged face and look of anguish. It had been an agonizing night for him as well, worrying about her.
“I hope so,” Nikolai said quietly.
He was back at her side late that night, and sat next to her all night without sleeping, yet again. She drifted in and out of consciousness, muttering, talking to people he couldn't see, and she cried out his name more than once, and begged him to help her. It tore his heart out watching her, but through it all he sat silently, holding her hand, and thinking of their future, and the other children he hoped they would have.
It was two days before the bleeding fully stopped, and the transfusions seemed to begin to help her. She was still too weak to sit up, but he spoon-fed soup and gruel into her, like any nurse, and slept on a cot beside her bed. After seeing her a little better, he finally dared to sleep himself. He was utterly exhausted, but deeply grateful Danina had survived it.
“How do you feel today?” he asked gently, looking at the dark circles beneath her eyes. She still looked ashen to him.
“A little better,” she lied. She couldn't remember any of the other girls being so ill in similar situations, although one often heard of women who died from it, but she had had no clear understanding of the risk she was taking. And even if she had, she would have done it anyway. She had absolutely no choice, she felt, and even now, with Nikolai at her side, she knew they could never have had the baby. It would have destroyed everything, his life, her career. There was no room for a child in their lives. They barely had room for each other, no matter how much she loved him. Theirs was a life of stolen moments and borrowed time and only the hope and promise of a future. It was not yet a life in which they could include a child.
“I want you to come back to Tsarskoe Selo with me,” he said as she closed her eyes again, but he knew that this time she could hear him. And her eyes fluttered open again as she listened to what he said. “You can stay at the cottage again. No one has to know why you're ill, or what happened.” But even he knew that for a long time she would be too weak to go anywhere, and there was still the risk of infection, which could easily be fatal. He was still deeply concerned about her, as was her surgeon.
“I can't do that again. I can't impose on the Czarina,” she said weakly, although she would have liked nothing better than to be with him, as they had been in the cottage before. She loved the sweetness of their living together. But she could not abandon the ballet again to recuperate. She knew that this time Madame Markova would not take her back, or ever forgive her for deserting them, sick or not. Danina had paid a high price with her for her last recuperation, and she needed the ballet. Nikolai could not help her, he was not free to marry her, or care for her, or even able to support her. She had to rely on herself.
“You can't go back to dancing for a while,” he said carefully, and then he decided to tell her what he'd been thinking. “I want you to think about something. I have thought of a thousand ways to solve our problem, while you were lying here. We cannot go on this way. Marie will never relent. It will take me years to buy a house for you, and Madame Markova will never release you from the ballet. I want to be with you, Danina. I want us to have a life together
, away from all of this, and all the people who want to keep us apart. I want a real life with you, far from here, where we can begin again. We cannot be married, but no one need ever know.” And then he added gently, “In another place, we could even have children.” A look of sorrow crossed her face as he said the words, and he squeezed her hand. They both felt the loss of what had just happened between them.
“There is no place where we can do that. Where would we go? How would we support ourselves? If Madame Markova wishes to discredit me, no other ballet will have me.” She was thinking of Moscow, and other cities in Russia, but he wasn't. His plan was far more daring than that.
“I have a cousin in America. In a place called Vermont. It is in the Northeast, and he says it looks a great deal like Russia. I have enough money saved to pay for our passage there. We can live with him at first. I will find ajob, and you can teach ballet somewhere, to little children.” She knew Nikolai spoke English perfectly, because of his wife, but she did not. She couldn't imagine a life in a world so far from theirs, and the very thought of it was frightening and foreign to her.
“How could we do that, Nikolai? Could you be a doctor there?” she asked, stunned by the suggestion that she follow him halfway around the world.
“Eventually,” he answered carefully. “I would have to go back to school in America. It would take time. I could do other things in the meantime.” But what? she asked herself as she listened to him. Shovel snow? Clean stables? Curry horses? To her, the situation seemed hopeless. Surely there was no ballet in Vermont, wherever that was, and that was all she knew. Who would she teach? Who would hire either of them? How would they get there? “You must let me work this out for us. It's our only hope, Danina. We cannot stay here.” But to leave required a series of betrayals, abandoning his children and wife, the Czar and his family, who had been so kind to him, and Madame Markova and the Maryinsky Ballet, which was the only home she had known since she was a child. She had given everything to them, her life, her soul, her spirit, her body, and in turn they had given her a life, which was the only one she knew. What would she do in this place called Vermont, and what if he should tire of her and abandon her there? It was the first time she had thought that, but she was frightened, and she looked it, as she met his eyes. And he could easily read all her fears there.
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