The Saint of Petersburg (Dancing Dream #3)

by Leslie DuBois

  Damian and I agreed to meet over dinner the Wednesday after our opening weekend to discuss our respective careers. Though Will seemed to be handling my dancing with Will pretty well I still didn’t want to tell him about this dinner. I also didn’t want to go alone, however, so I begged Anna Marie to come along. The last thing I needed was for some photographer to snap a shot of us together and for it to be in tomorrow’s paper or, worse, for Will to catch us alone together.

  “He’s two hours late,” Anna Marie said looking at her watch again.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said casually even though I was a bit worried. I knew Damian was always fashionably late, but two hours was a little much even for him.

  “Check your cell, maybe he called.” For some reason, when Anna Marie said this, I started to shake. I got a really bad feeling. I started to think about how Damian said he’d called me a hundred times while he was in Brazil, but I didn’t get a single call. I still hadn’t asked Will if he’d purposely blocked Damian’s calls, but something in the back of my mind told me that he had. And now something in the back of my mind was telling me that Will was responsible for Damian’s tardiness.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Anna Marie as I threw some cash on the table to pay for our drinks.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Damian’s hotel. Something’s not right.”

  ~***~

  Sure enough, something wasn’t right.

  Damian’s room was completely ransacked. The coffee table was busted, papers were scattered across the floor, and even the curtains had been torn down from the windows.

  “Damian!” I called as I made my way through the living room to the bedroom. There was no response.

  “I’m calling the police,” Anna Marie said reaching for the phone. Suddenly we heard singing. Well, more accurately, it was like slurring. It kind of sounded like some sort of French lullaby, but it was so poorly annunciated I couldn’t be sure.

  “Ahh, two beautiful mademoiselles. To what do I owe this honor?” Damian stumbled out of the bathroom towards us wearing only a bathrobe and holding a half empty bottle of wine in one hand. “Or shall I say madame and mademoiselle?” Damian took another step toward us and tripped on a coffee table fragment. He stumbled forward, letting the bottle slip. Anna Marie caught the bottle and I caught him. I tried grabbing his hand and guiding him to the couch but he screeched in pain.

  “What’s the matter with your hand?” I asked as I took his elbow instead. He started blabbering in a language I didn’t understand. I think it was Greek. I took a look at his right hand. There was definitely something wrong with it. It was swollen to three times its size and his fourth finger looked misplaced or dislocated or something.

  “Do you like what I have done with the place?” he asked in Italian. “I have redecorated. Of course, I cannot take all the credit. I had a little help. You know he should really give up basketball and go into interior design.”

  “Are you saying Will did this?”

  “What is he saying?” Anna Marie asked.

  “I’m saying I want my wine back.” Damian snatched the bottle from Anna Marie and finished it in one long swig.

  “Damian, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I know exactly what I am saying. That barbarian would rather see me dead than to be dancing with you. And I would rather be dead than be without you, belle.”

  “Belle? Who’s Belle?” Anna Marie asked.

  “It means beauty in French,” I said as I watched Damian slump over and pass out on the couch.

  “Wow, he’s got it bad for you.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore.

  “Can you stay with him for a while? I need to talk to my husband.”

  Will wasn’t home when I got there, so I went to our room and packed a suitcase. Then I sat in the living room and waited.

  “I thought you were going out to dinner tonight,” he said when he came home. I just stared at him with my arms crossed. “I thought you wouldn’t be home till late,” he added when I didn’t respond. “What’s wrong?”

  “God, Will. When you said you wanted him out of our lives I didn’t think you meant literally.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You broke his hand. You didn’t kill him, but you just about killed his career. How is he supposed to dance with a broken hand?” It was more of an accusation than a question. I shouldn’t have automatically assumed that Damian was telling the truth and that it was Will that had fought with him, but I could tell by looking at Will that he had been in a fight. He had been unconsciously rubbing his right knuckles ever since he walked in the door. Thinking back, I also slightly exaggerated the whole “killing his career” part. Hands heal. His career would have been fine. But what could I say? I was angry. I was so angry I could barely think straight.

  Will inhaled sharply then said, “Baby, I just went over there to talk to him, I swear. I wanted him to leave after your performances. He has no reason to stay when you’re done. I just wanted to remind him that you’re my wife.” Will approached me and tried to grab my hand, but I jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Please don’t be mad at me. I just want things to go back to the way they used to be. You remember how great it was when we were on our honeymoon and Damian was far away in Brazil?”

  “When Damian was in Brazil?”

  “Yeah.” Now I had him.

  “How did you know he was in Brazil?”

  “What?”

  “How did you know Damian was in Brazil while we were on our honeymoon, Will? First of all, he was supposed to be in L.A. He only went to Brazil because his father died. But I didn’t tell you that. I’m sure Damian wouldn’t have told you. How did you know?”

  “I ... you ... I’m sure someone mentioned it.” Will retreated to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I followed him and slammed it shut.

  “He called me, didn’t he? He called my cell phone while he was in Brazil and you blocked his calls.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  Will sighed and turned away from me. He rested his hands on the counter and leaned on them.

  “I had your phone calls forwarded to my phone while you were in the hospital,” he admitted guiltily. Something inside me always knew that he had done it, but I really never wanted to know for sure. I didn’t want to think my husband was such an over possessive tyrant.

  “You played me Will. You totally played me. And here I was thinking that you had gotten past all of your jealousy issues. How could you, Will?”

  “How could I?” he asked incredulously as he turned to me and looked into my eyes. “How could I? You know what? I don’t regret it. I love you more than anything in the world, Sony. And until you met that idiot, you felt the same way about me. We belong together. You know we belong together. I was just making sure you realized it before it was too late.”

  “Will, that wasn’t your place. That wasn’t your decision to make. How are we supposed to build a life together if you don’t trust me to think for myself? How are we supposed to have a happy marriage if you’re constantly trying to control me? You can’t think for me.”

  Will gathered me in his arms and held me tightly. A moment like this was usually my cue to cry, but I couldn’t. I refused to let myself cry. That would just give him all the more reason to think he needed to take care of me and protect me and choose for me. He would hold me and tell me everything would be okay because he was here and he loved me and he wouldn’t let anything happen to me or to us. No! Not this time. Sure, he loved me. I loved him too. But maybe that wasn’t enough. At some point, Will needed to realize that just because he loved me, he didn’t have the right to dominate every aspect of my life. He had to let me be my own person.

  “I’m leaving, Will,” I said weakly as I pulled away from him. I wanted to say it with more conviction, but holding back tears took more ener
gy than I had expected.

  “What?” Will’s eyes expanded to twice their normal size. He looked terrified.

  “I need some time away from you.” Will’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He was in shock. I walked back to the living room and picked up my suitcase.

  “Oh my God, you’re serious,” he said when he saw the suitcase. He started shaking his head. “Please don’t do this to me. Please. I can’t live without you.” I turned and looked at him. His face was in his hands. Was he crying?

  I wasn’t going to let this change my mind. I knew he would be upset. Of course I didn’t expect him to be this upset. It was a little scary. But I had thought about this a lot and I was determined.

  “So that’s it. That’s just it? Game over?”

  Leave it to Will to use a basketball analogy.

  I shrugged. “Let’s say it’s a time out.”

  Will put his face in his hands again.

  “I love you, Will, but I need to do this. If we’re meant to be, then I’ll be back.” I felt like I was physically tearing Will’s heart out of his chest, but I kept walking toward the door. How could I be so cruel to him? Wait a minute. This was not about me being cruel to him. This was about me having some time to breathe and make my own decisions without him influencing every aspect of my life.

  “Wait, please,” he said before I walked out the door. He was definitely crying now. “I can change. I’ll be different. I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just don’t leave me alone.”

  “Goodbye, Will.”

  Chapter 9

  The Dress

  Okay, I really didn’t plan my separation from Will too well. I had nowhere to go. I ended up roaming the streets of Rome dragging around my suitcase. I didn’t want to go to Damian’s hotel. That wouldn’t have helped the situation. In my state of mind, I might have ended up in his bed. That wouldn’t have helped things. I needed time to think, time to clear my head. Leaving Will to go to Damian right now would be like escaping a prison just to go lock myself in an insane asylum. No, I wanted to be alone. But then again, I didn’t want to be alone. Somehow, I ended up at Anna Marie and Raffaele’s apartment.

  Anna Marie knew exactly what I’d done as soon as she saw me and my suitcase. She immediately hugged me and led me to her couch as I burst into tears.

  Going from Will’s luxurious villa to Anna Marie and Raffaele’s tiny one bedroom apartment was kind of like going from the Ritz Carlton to the Motel 6. But who was I to complain? It was still better than Venton Heights. And as long as I had a place to lay my head and get some well needed rest, I was happy.

  I didn’t realize how exhausted I was. As soon as I was horizontal on the couch I was out. I think I might have fallen asleep mid-sentence.

  I was awakened a little while later by the phone ringing. In my mind, I was standing and walking to the kitchen, which was really still the living room, and answering the phone; but, in reality, I didn’t move an inch. Instead, Anna Marie picked it up.

  “Yeah, she’s here,” she said. “She came in around two … I don’t know if she ate anything or not … I’ll make sure she has a big breakfast … uh huh … uh huh … right…got it …What? ... No, I will not spy on my best friend for you … Look, Will, you’re a great guy and I know you love her and I honestly hope you two can work this out, but that ain’t gonna happen if you keep pulling this psycho possessive husband routine. Give her some space to breathe, okay? ... Uh huh … Okay … I promise.” Then she hung up

  “What did he say?” I said, sitting up and squinting my eyes from the obnoxious sun. It must have been later than I thought.

  “Normal Will stuff. He just wants to make sure you’re okay. He, like, gave me a rundown of your dietary needs. And he made me promise to ask you to call him before each of his games. He says if he doesn’t hear your voice he won’t be able to play.”

  “Typical,” I said, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back on the couch. Anna Marie sat down on the floor in front of me in a straddle and started to stretch. She was probably going for a jog soon.

  “Has he always been this insecure about your relationship or is Damian bringing this out in him?” she asked.

  “I think he’s always been this way, but Damian is definitely making it worse. When we were in New Jersey, Will was at the dance studio so much that Ms. Alexander had to ban him because he kept distracting me. And in school, I would literally have to hide from him so I could be alone to get some studying done. Now, you know something’s wrong when I’m trying to find time to study.” I was not the most studious person. My sister Sasha was always saving me academically.

  “Wow,” she said rolling into a right split.

  “He doesn’t realize that the tighter he holds on to me the more he pushes me away.”

  “Well, I know you love Will. I mean, you married him. But the question remains, do you love Damian too?” Anna Marie lay on her back then brought her feet up over her head so that her toes touched the floor right above her head. She looked like a redheaded pretzel.

  “I don’t know. I really can’t imagine my life without Damian anymore. It’s like I can’t see myself dancing with anyone else. What am I gonna do?” Before Anna Marie could answer, Raffaele burst into the living room chatting away as if he’d already been talking to us for the past ten minutes. He was wearing only a Speedo and was in mid-conversation about a white dress that he had designed. I closed my eyes and tried to purge him and his paleness from my brain, but it wasn’t working. I had seen way too much of Raffaele’s skinny body in the time that we had known each other.

  “Why is he wearing a Speedo?” I whispered to Anna Marie.

  “Oh, that’s for your benefit. He’s usually naked.” Was that supposed to comfort me?

  According to Raffaele, the white spring dress was fabulous, but it didn’t suit his Maria. He always called Anna Marie, Maria. I never figured out why. Anyway, his Maria was too petite for the style and he wanted me to have it. Just then he pulled the dress out of the closet which really should have been the pantry. Where did they keep their food? Raffaele had clothes in every available space in the apartment.

  When he brought the dress to me, I peeked through my fingers just enough to get a glimpse of the dress and not any glimpses of Raffaele’s body. I gasped. It was the same dress I wore in the dream. The dream where I cheated on Will and slept with Damian.

  I felt like my life was slowly slipping out of my hands. Yes, I had worked all of my life for my dreams to come true, but not these dreams. How was it possible that two very big pieces of my dream with Damian had just fallen into place? Maybe I didn’t have as much control over my life as I thought.

  Chapter 10

  The Focal Point of Fate

  “Do you believe in fate, Mom?” I asked during one of our far too infrequent phone conversations.

  “Fate? What do you mean?” she asked.

  I had to admit, I was a little embarrassed to even ask the question. I was never one to believe in fate too much. The entire concept of fate kind of reminded me of fairy tales, which were other things I didn’t believe in. That probably came from growing up in a neighborhood like Venton Heights. That place was like the opposite of a fairy tale. I guess that would be a nightmare. Yeah, that’s exactly what it was. Going to sleep to the sound of gunshots, and waking up to the sound of police sirens.

  “Nothing,” I said. “So how’s the neighborhood?” I didn’t really care about the neighborhood. I just needed to change the subject. I didn’t need my mother thinking I was completely insane for believing in something as ridiculous as fate.

  “Oh, about the same,” my mother answered. “Keischa Johnson graduated college. Everyone is so proud of her. We had a neighborhood block party for her just last week.”

  “Block party? Wow. I remember those.” When I was little, there was a block party in Venton Heights just about every weekend. Somebody had a baby. Block party. Somebody got married. Block party. Somebody got out of a parking ticket
. Block party. I think people just wanted any excuse to have a party. As I got older and the violence got more pronounced, I think people in the neighborhood started shying away from them, perhaps afraid that they would end in a shoot out like when I was thirteen.

  “Oh, and Mrs. Jensen across the hall had another stroke. She can’t afford a nurse so I’ve been checking in on her,” my mother added.

  “That’s nice of you, Mom. I know you must be busy with work.”

  “It’s nothing. So how are you and Will?”

  I still hadn’t told her that we were having problems. I didn’t want to tell her anything until I was sure about what the future would bring. I guess since no one could be sure of the future, I might not be telling her anything ... ever.

  “Oh, look at the time. I’m late for practice. Can I call you later?”

  We said our goodbyes and then I sat staring at the phone. My mind couldn’t help but go back to that thought of fate, the dream I had about Damian, and the fact that Will had lied to me. I didn’t know what to think anymore. And I didn’t know if any more thinking would even change anything. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, maybe it was fate controlling things and not me.

  Granted, little black kids in the ghetto didn’t grow up learning about fate. All we knew was what was real. And for us, what was real was that eighty percent of the kids in our kindergarten class would end up in jail or on drugs by age eighteen. Okay, so the numbers I kind of pulled out of the air, but I couldn’t have been far off. I was just going by my own personal experience. I moved to Venton Heights in the third grade after the bank foreclosed on the home where my parents, my sister, and I lived. Of the twenty-three students in that class, thirteen of them had been in jail for one reason or another and six of them had kids. I didn’t really know how to count Kendreecka, who had a kid while in jail.