That was when joy finally settled in. I was happy. I was going to have a little human being that was part me and part Will. What could be better? I could almost see Will and I strolling down a path arm in arm while pushing a carriage. Or perhaps taking our daughter to her first ballet or dressing up our son in Chicago Bulls’ gear and taking him to a game. Of course, it could be the other way around. Maybe we would have a son who loved ballet or a daughter who would one day play for the WNBA.
And then came doubt. Not doubt that I would be a good mother. I knew that I could be. If I could attain my goal of dancing with the Russian Ballet, I could do anything. No, I doubted whether to immediately call Will or not. Should I tell him about the baby?
I stared at my cell phone probably for even longer than I had stared at that pregnancy test. I even dialed his number, but then I canceled the call. He didn’t need this stress. Not now. There would be plenty of time to tell him later. At least I hoped.
The next day, I went to the library. Usually the library was my source for finding dance books or old recordings of Natalia Karleskaya. But that day, I checked out nearly everything they had about pregnancy and parenting. There was so much I had already missed out on. I should have been on vitamins. I should have been having checkups with my doctor. But as it was, I wasn’t even sure how far along I was. If I thought back to the last time Will and I were together, that would put me at about eleven or twelve weeks.
Given that my mother was a nurse, we had a family doctor, but I didn’t want to go to him. I knew there was patient confidentiality and all that, but I still didn’t want to take a chance of my mother seeing me going to the doctor. Then she’d just start asking a bunch of questions that I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer.
Instead, I picked a nearby doctor at random and made an appointment for the next day.
Every night for over a week, I stayed up late reading baby books and planning my diet. Tears welled in my eyes thinking about how I could have been starving my baby due to my battle with anorexia. Suddenly, I was so grateful to Will and his ‘eating reminders’ that I used to find so annoying.
Given that I was pregnant and running on little sleep, I wasn’t too happy when the regular ghetto symphony woke me up at six am. Right outside my door, two girls were screaming at each other. It sounded like they were fighting over money. I tried to ignore it and plop a pillow over my head, but seconds later, I heard the tell tale grunts and screeches of a fight. I got out of bed and went to the door.
Being pregnant, I should have kept my bloated butt in bed. If I had known what was about to happen, I would have.
“Hey, girls! Break it up!” I said stepping into the hallway. I instantly recognized one of the girls as Tiki Velasquez. I still hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to her about dance. What could I say? I’d been a little busy dealing with my psycho sister and a human being growing inside me.
The girls completely ignored me and kept swinging at each other.
“Give me my money!” Tiki yelled.
“I don’t owe you nothin’, ho’,” the other girl said.
Tiki’s grandmother stepped out into the hallway as well. “Tequila, stop fighting and get your narrow behind in this house right now!” she yelled, waving her cane in the air. The girls kept fighting and pushing each other around. I was afraid one of them would inadvertently hit Mrs. Jensen and knock her down the stairs. That poor old woman wouldn’t be able to survive a fall like that. So I reached my arms between the girls and used all of my strength to pull them apart.
“What the hell are you doing, old lady?” Tiki yelled at me pushing my arms away. Wait, old lady? Did she just call me old lady? Sure I was married and pregnant, but I was only eighteen!
Normally, a push from a twelve year old would have no effect on me. Even though she was pretty strong, I was no weakling myself and I had pretty good balance. But maybe something about carrying the extra weight of a baby around completely threw off my center of gravity. The next thing I knew, I was the one falling down the stairs.
“Call 911,” I heard before I blacked out.
Chapter 27
The Deal
I awoke in a hospital bed. It took me a moment to figure out what had happened and why exactly I was there. Then I remembered. Tiki Velasquez had pushed me down the stairs.
I gasped. My baby! Did I hurt my baby?
I sat up and started looking around.
“It’s okay, Sonya. I’m here,” my mother said, sitting next to me and rubbing my back. I looked into her face. She had been crying. Why was she crying? “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” she said.
“Were? Past tense? Did something happen to the baby? Oh God! My baby!” I started sobbing uncontrollably.
“Shh. Shh. It’s okay. Don’t cry. He’s fine.”
After taking a couple of deep breaths, I wiped my tears and said, “He? How can they tell what it is already?”
“Sweetie, you’re about seventeen weeks pregnant. You’re almost halfway done.” She pointed to a monitor next to my bed. On it was a grainy picture of a bean or an alien or something. Wait a minute. It was my baby.
I had to laugh a little inside. If I was seventeen weeks pregnant, that meant that I most likely got pregnant the very first time we were together. Leave it to me to get pregnant on my wedding night.
“I think it’s time we had a little talk,” she said looking into my eyes.
I spent the next couple of hours explaining everything to her. And I did mean everything. I even mentioned the size of Veronica Valerio’s boobs.
“So that’s why Will didn’t pick up when I called to tell him you were in the hospital? I had to leave a message.”
“Oh, mom, you didn’t say anything about the baby did you?”
“How could I? I didn’t know about the baby.”
Good point. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“But why don’t you want to tell him? He should know he’s going to be a father, don’t you think?”
“Ma, I don’t want him to take me back just out of a sense of duty to the baby. I want him to come back because he loves me.”
“You’re an idiot. Do you know that? Of course, he loves you. He moved halfway around the world for you.” Gotta love the honesty of a black momma.
“Sometimes love ain’t enough. Did you love Daddy? That didn’t exactly work out did it?”
She stood up and crossed the room. Looking out of the window she said, “That was different.”
“How?”
She sighed. “We were young. I had so many plans. I was gonna go to college. I wanted to be a Chemical Engineer, you know?” Taking a seat on the couch in the room she continued, “Then I got pregnant with your sister. We were just too young for the responsibility.”
I looked at her incredulously. “And how is that any different than what Will and I are dealing with? We both just finished high school. We both have tons of plans. We’re probably too young for this responsibility as well.”
My mother shook her head slowly. “No, Sonya, you’re different from me,” she said with a soft smile. “You are so much stronger and braver than I was. You’re stronger than I will ever be.” She stood and came over to my bed again. “I’ve never told you this, baby girl, but I really admire you. If I had an ounce of your determination and drive, I would be a chemical engineer right now. I would have found a way to make it happen even with two kids. That’s exactly what you do. When you want something, you find a way to make it happen. No matter what. I’m not that strong.”
“Yes, you are, Mom. You raised two kids on your own. You kept us dressed, fed, and loved. You did what you had to do. Where do you think I learned about determination and drive?”
My mother wiped tears from her eyes and then hugged me. “Okay, so we’re both strong in our own ways. But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to tell Will about the baby. How do you think he’s going to feel when he finds out?”
“Ma, I’m gonna tell him eventual
ly. Just when the time is right. And I’m the one who gets to decide when the time is right.”
“Hmph,” she said crossing her arms and rolling her neck. I knew what that meant.
“Ma, don’t do anything. Please don’t get involved.”
“Well, how am I supposed to just sit back and watch you suffer? You’re the one daughter I can help.” She pressed her eyes shut as she thought of my sister. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’m gonna go get some water.”
As she stepped out of my room, someone else stepped in. It was Mrs. Jensen.
“How are you, dear?” she asked leaning on her cane as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Jensen. Thank you.”
“We just wanted to come down and apologize to you,” she said approaching my bed one painful step at a time.
“We?”
“Yes, we --” Mrs. Jensen stopped and looked on either side of her. Then she awkwardly turned around. “Tequila Jensen get your narrow ass in here!”
In walked Tiki, hiding behind a bouquet of flowers. “It’s Tequila Velasquez, thank you.”
Mrs. Jensen rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you wanna keep that man’s name. He ain’t never claimed you and he never will. You don’t even speak a lick of Spanish.”
Tiki let out a string of Spanish curse words that I understood quite clearly.
“Oh shut up with all that hoo-doo voo-doo talk. We came here for a reason. Now what do you say,” Mrs. Jensen prompted her.
Tiki huffed, then plopped the flowers on my bed. “I am very sorry to have hurt you, Ms. Sonya.” There was so much attitude in her voice I barely heard the apology.
Mrs. Jensen rolled her eyes. “You go sit down,” she said pointing her cane at a chair.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
“Well, that’s not all you’re gonna get,” Mrs. Jensen said. “Tiki is going to make it up to you. Whatever you need until this baby is born, she is going to do it for you. She will make your bed, cook you dinner, and even massage your feet.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“The hell it ain’t. She ain’t got nothin else better to do. Been kicked out of every school this side of the Mississippi. She doin’ some electronic school now. The girl needs to do something to stay out of trouble. Plus, maybe this way you won’t press charges and put her in jail just like her no good mama.”
I thought I noticed Tiki cringe. It had to hurt her the way her grandmother spoke about her mother. I felt for her. I knew what it was like to have a loved one in jail. Even though at times I questioned how I could still love Sasha, I somehow did. She was my sister after all. I also knew what it was like to not have a father. Fortunately, I had a mother to help me through the tough times. Now Tiki didn’t even have that.
“How about I make you a deal?” I said to Mrs. Jensen. “I’ve seen Tiki dance. I think she has real potential. I want her to come to my studio, work on her technique, and then audition for the Junior Ballet League.”
Mrs. Jensen huffed. “Potential? Her? She ain’t got no kind of potential.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Jensen, I beg to differ.” She looked at me like I was speaking a different language. I needed to say it in a way she would understand. “That’s my deal. She dances with me or I file assault charges.”
“What’s this Junior Ballet League thing about?”
“It’s a society of dancers from aged twelve to seventeen. If you’re admitted, many opportunities are opened up like dance camps, performances abroad, even schools.”
Turning to look at her granddaughter she said, “You hear that, Tequila? Do you want to dance?”
Tiki looked at me and for a split second her eyes screamed “YES!” But she quickly reined in her enthusiasm, shrugged and said, “Whatever.”
I saw that glimmer of hope in her eyes, though. And it was enough for me to know that this was what she wanted. She probably wanted to dance more than anything in the world. I looked into her eyes and I saw a part of myself.
Chapter 28
Mirrors and Music
After I got clearance from my doctor, I went back to dancing at Ms. Alexander’s studio. Teaching and working one-on-one with Tiki really helped me keep my mind off of Will even though there was still a pretty big reminder of him stretching out the front of my leotards day after day.
My life kind of fell into a comfortable rhythm. Just like old times, I would get to the studio at six a.m. Only this time it wasn’t to clean it. That pleasure now went out to a hired service. No, I spent three hours alone with my mirrors and music, reveling in the beauty of dance.
In my morning rituals, I took it back to the old school. No matter how advanced technology got with iPod’s and Bose speakers, there was nothing better than dancing ballet to music played on an old-fashioned record player. Especially Russian symphonies. As far as I was concerned, every dance studio should be equipped with a record player. It was like the scratchiness of the needle against the vinyl brought out the rawness and richness of the music.
Dancing to Peter Tchaikovsky being played on a record made me feel as if I were dancing to a live orchestra with Tchaikovsky himself at the piano. It transported me to another place and time. And when I finished, I felt the same amount of rush and adrenaline that I felt when I left the stage of the real Russian Ballet. I wondered what that meant about me.
Each day, Tiki arrived at the studio around nine in the morning. I considered bringing her with me at six since we were coming from the same place, but decided against it. I loved my private dance sessions. I think the baby enjoyed them too. He moved around so much in me I got the feeling he was dancing as well. In fact, I nicknamed him baby Baryshnikov. Bary for short.
One day, a little over a week after our arrangement started, Tiki arrived early. She sat near the sound equipment in the corner of the room and just watched me silently. Well, to be honest, she was always silent. In the nine days she had been taking lessons from me, she’d probably said a total of twelve words. And ten of them were “whatever.” She tried to make it seem like she hated coming to take dance lessons. But the way she was always here at exactly nine o’clock and sometimes earlier showed me dance wasn’t just ‘whatever’ for her. It meant something. Because I knew deep down she really wanted to do this, I swallowed my annoyance over her attitude and kept teaching her six hours a day.
“What’s that?” she asked the morning she arrived early. It was an uncharacteristic question. Tiki never asked me questions. I would just show her what to do and she’d do it. Usually, with perfect execution.
“What’s what?” I grabbed a towel and dabbed the sweat off of my face.
“That turn you did while kicking out your leg.”
“That’s called a fouetté.”
“I wanna do that.”
I wasn’t about to let her off that easy. I wanted her to open up to me and express how she really felt about dance. “Why?”
She shrugged.
“Tell me why you want to do a fouetté and I’ll teach you.”
She grew silent again and looked at the wall.
“Fine. Put your slippers on. We’re starting warm ups at the barre.”
“Because it’s pretty and it looks hard,” she said quietly a few moments later.
“What was that?” I asked even though I heard her perfectly.
After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly she said, “It’s pretty and hard and every time I --”
She stopped short. I was afraid she wouldn’t continue. I sat down cross-legged in front of her to show her I was ready to listen.
“It’s just that I don’t get to feel like I’m good at anything. Like I’m worthwhile or something. I get to feel good at something two or three times a day when I’m here.”
I nodded. I knew exactly how she felt. I knew so well that I felt tears burning behind my eyes. Tears of sympathy. And tears of anger that in the twelve years of this girl’s life no one had proba
bly ever said “You can do it!” or “Good job!”
Knowing that if I got all sappy she would never open up to me again, I cleared my throat and said, “Well, if we’re going to have you doing fouettés by the end of the day, we better get started.”
Amazingly, by the end of the day, she was doing some pretty decent fouettés. I had never seen anyone so determined in my life. Well, except maybe me and Sasha but in different ways. It was like Tiki had something to prove to everyone around her. Maybe that was why she was always getting into fights. It was her way of showing she was better than someone else.
When three o’clock rolled around, Tiki didn’t want to leave. But unfortunately, I had a class and Ms. Alexander was also teaching in the other room.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “We’ll pick up right here tomorrow morning.”
Tiki didn’t respond as she started slamming her dance clothes into her bag. Welcome back, attitude! Just when I was about to ask her if she wanted to stay for my class. Oh well, not with that attitude. She needed to go cool off.
A few minutes later, I heard yelling outside of the studio. I immediately thought Tiki had left our rehearsal and went out and started a fight with someone. I ran outside and then got the shock of my life. Yes, it was Tiki that had started the disturbance, but not for fighting. A crowd had developed around her as she was practicing her fouettés.
She looked so elegant and controlled as she performed the difficult turns. I thought I even noticed a smile on her face. My heart melted. I think it was the first time I had ever seen her smile.
Between Tiki’s smile, baby flutters in my belly, and the crackle of a record player, I finally figured out what had changed about me. I no longer needed to dance in front of an audience alongside Natalia Karleskaya in order to feel complete. I had everything I needed right here in Ms. Alexander’s studio. Well, there was one thing missing.
The Saint of Petersburg (Dancing Dream #3) Page 11
