by Renee Fowler
Gregory invited me to come along with him, which I’ve done a few times in the past, and I almost take him up on the offer because the alternative feels daunting. Instead I go to Jack’s house to spend thanksgiving with him, Sarah, his sister, mother, and Claire’s parents. I’m not sure how I fit in with this cobbled together family. Everyone is nothing but kind and welcoming to me, but I can’t help but feel a bit like an outsider, an invader.
When Jack asks me later that night what I’m thinking, I tell him the truth, because we promised to start doing that for each other. “It was a little overwhelming.”
“It was a little,” he says, holding me against him as we huddle under the covers. “But it was only the first year. First’s are hard.”
I murmur my agreement, but there’s still something nagging at the edge of my mind. “Every so often I get this feeling like there’s a Claire shaped hole here I’m supposed to fill.”
Jack leans up on his elbow so I can see his face. “No one expects that. Everyone loves you, because you’re you. If I ever lost you, it would be an Anna shaped hole right here.” He takes my hand and lays it flat against the center of his chest. “I love that I can say things like that to you.”
“You can say anything to me.”
“I know.” He kisses my palm and holds it against his jaw. “Do you think I should get rid of this house?”
“I don’t know, Jack. It’s your house.”
“I want you with me forever, and I want something we can call ours.”
I think to anyone else listening in, this whole conversation would sound ludicrous considering the length of time we’ve been together, but everything about us feels right. Ever since Gregory departed, I’ve been here with Jack every single night. “I just want to be wherever you and Sarah are. That’s all I care about.”
Chapter 28
Anna
Two weeks before Christmas we make the almost four and half hour drive to New York to take Sarah to see The Nutcracker. We could’ve gone somewhere closer, but I thought it might be fun to show her around backstage after the show and let her meet some of the dancers.
Sarah is adorable in the black velvet dress edged in ivory lace that I bought her for the occasion. Jack is ridiculously handsome in his dark suit, but he appears uncomfortable as he fidgets with his collar from his seat on the other side of Sarah.
Jack catches me looking at him, and he smiles at me, that devastating smile that gives me butterflies and sets my heart pitter-pattering. He rests his arm along the back of Sarah’s seat to skim his fingers against my shoulder.
It’s not just that Jack is attractive, or that even the small, innocuous brush of his fingertips against my arm makes me melt. He’s wearing clothes he’d rather not be wearing, stuffed in a narrow theater seat hundreds of miles from home. He’s waiting for the start of a ballet he’d rather not sit through, for me, and for Sarah.
Anyone can say I love you with words, but this is worth a million I love you’s. So is the night he sat with me at the hospital. So is the way he kissed those scars and made me feel whole again. I know we’ve had our hiccups, but being with Jack makes me feel whole. Not just since that accident either. I’m a whole person for the first time in my life.
“Are you okay?” Jack mouths.
Blinking, I nod at him, and smile as the overhead lights dim.
Sarah’s hand is small and warm in mine. I spend as much time watching her lit up face as I do the stage.
Everything looks like magic from our vantage point, but I know behind the scenes people are scurrying frantically in the wings. As glittery flakes waft down on the dancers, I remember smiling wide and breathing through my teeth to avoid inhaling the particles into my lungs.
After the show, Sarah is jittery with excitement as I lead them up toward the front left, where Aaron meets us.
No doubt he’s wore out and exhausted after the performance, but he is very sweet with Sarah, and graciously shows her around.
“Where was Brooke tonight?” I ask. She’s been the new principal since I left, but she didn’t perform this evening.
“Torn ACL.”
I grimace.
“She’ll be back in the spring I’m sure. How’s Gregory?”
“Much better. He's recovered really well from the surgery.”
“Is he coming back?” Aaron asks expectantly.
“I don’t think so,” I say, leaving out the bit where Gregory reconnected with that first cowboy he left behind to pursue dance, the one who just happens to be single now. I’ll probably need to find another instructor to take over my classes at the studio when I begin preparations for this gala. Based on our most recent phone conversation, Gregory is home for good.
Mikhail spots us and strolls over. He gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek, and I can sense Jack stiffen beside me. I shrink back and make hasty introductions.
They shake hands, then Mikhail asks Sarah what she thought of the show.
“I loved it! I’m going to be a ballerina.”
“Is that so?” He gives the top of her head an awkward pat. “With Bella to guide you, I’m sure you will.”
Sarah frowns up at him, confused. I’m about to correct him on my name again, but he wishes us a nice night, and saunters off before I have the chance.
Aaron makes a face to Mikhail’s back, and I suppress a laugh. “Thanks for giving us the grand tour,” I say.
“Anytime, and I guess I’ll be seeing more of you come january.”
“I guess so.”
We embrace. Aaron says farewell to Sarah with a flourishing bow, and a kiss across her knuckles. She watches him leave with a huge, faraway grin. “He’s like a real prince,” she says with a warm sigh.
Jack lets loose a sigh of his own, and scoops her up against her chest. His eyes meet mine, and we share a private smile.
Looking across that expansive stage littered with props and glittery, fake snow, it hits me. This part of my life is done. Enrollment at the studio is steadily picking up. I don’t need to do that gala performance, and I truly don’t want to. All the weeks it would require away from Jack and Sarah just for one more night out there? It’s not worth it.
My time has passed.
I wanted one more dance. The last time I graced the stage, I was Odette in Swan Lake. I can barely remember that particular night now, all those performances running together in my mind. If I had known it was my last, I would’ve committed it to memory, cherished, and savored it.
But I can still vividly recall the afternoon I first met Jack. He watched me dance and said it woke something up in him. Maybe I can keep that memory as my last dance.
I grab Jack’s free hand, and lean over to whisper. “I changed my mind about doing this gala.”
A small line forms between his brows. “You did? Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m positive. I need to see if I can catch Mikhail before he leaves. I should probably tell him in person. Do you mind if I meet you back at the hotel?”
“I don’t mind.”
I lean over to say goodnight to Sarah, and drop a quick kiss on her forehead. It seems unlikely she’ll be awake by the time I get back. Judging by her droopy eyelids, she may be asleep before he carries her out of the building. “Do you remember how to get out of here?” I ask Jack.
“I remember. See you soon.” Jack kisses me, and his fingers slide against my palm as we break apart. “Love you.”
“Love you both.”
I turn and walk fast through the narrow galley hall that runs behind the stage, then down a flight of stairs. There are still dancers milling about, in and out of costume. I get stopped by a few familiar faces, but I do my best to politely break away. I really do need to find Mikhail before he leaves.
When I knock at his office door I get no answer. I try to twist the handle, but it’s locked. Walking a little faster, my heels click over the tiles as I round the corner, and I spot him exiting the back entrance. “Mik!”
He squints in
my direction, and steps back inside, letting the door fall closed behind him.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask, as he walks back in my direction.
He leads me back towards his office with a hand on my elbow. “Is something wrong, Bella?”
I don’t bother correcting him. I suppose to Mikhail, I’ll always be Bella, and here in his office, I feel a bit intimidated by him strangely. This is his turf, and there were many years before we were together that I was nothing but an underling in relation to him. “I’m sorry, Mikhail. But I don’t think I can do this gala.”
“Why?” he asks briskly.
“A lot of reasons.”
“Sit,” he demands. “Let’s discuss this.”
I’m starting to regret my decision to tell him in person. Really, do I owe him that after what he did?
I don’t have any real animosity towards Mikhail anymore though, and just because he was incredibly rude and cruel, it doesn’t mean I should be that way in return.
He pours us both a small glass of Tsarskaya, which I had actually developed a bit of a taste for. I prefer it chilled, but even room temperature, the vodka is smooth enough to sip on plain.
Mikhail doesn’t sit in the chair beside me. He leans against the edge of his desk to tower over me. “What are these reasons, Bella?”
“I have a whole life now, and a business, and there are so many other dancers who could do this better than me.”
“We already talked about these things.”
“I have pain now. It’s manageable, but I think this may be… too much for me,” I admit reluctantly, and take a slightly larger drink, before setting the tumbler aside.
“What kind of pain?”
“I have a prosthetic hip, and the femur on that side is more metal screws than bone.”
“You are able to dance like that with those limitations?”
“Barely. I could hardly walk the night after I danced for you. I don’t really know how to go at half speed, you know? Part of me still wishes I could do it, but I’m afraid I would either end up hurting myself, or disappointing you. I don’t want to do either.”
He sits down beside me, and rests his hand on my forearm. “Even if you don’t do the gala, you should let me set you up with a specialist, someone that can really-”
I jerk my arm away. “Can you please stop pretending to care about me? This is ridiculous.”
“Of course I care about you.”
I really should’ve sent him a text. I get up to go. “You’ll find another dancer. You don’t need me.”
He moves to block my path. “I do need you, and this isn’t about the gala.”
That’s the vibe I’m starting to get. “How’s Brooke?” I ask pointedly, trying to sidestep around him.
“I hear she’s on the mend, but we’re no longer together.”
Did he dump her when she got hurt too? Sheesh. “Will you please move so I can leave?”
“Why didn’t you talk to me. Can you answer me that?”
“You’re right. I should have told to you sooner. I’m sorry.”
“I understand better than anyone what it’s like to face the end of your stage career. I could’ve helped you, Bella.”
“Helped me do what exactly?”
“I could’ve listened. I would have been there for you, if you had only opened up to me.”
“This is all ancient history now, so I’m not sure why we’re even talking about it, but how the hell was I supposed to talk to you if I was laid up in the hospital, and you couldn’t be bothered to visit?”
“I tried to visit! They wouldn’t let me see you. Apparently being engaged means nothing, and Greggy was your emergency contact.”
Suddenly feeling weary, I rest my forehead in my palm.
“Then I found your letter,” Mikhail continues. “And I realized I was the last person you’d want to see. I figured it was best if I let you come to me, and when you never did-”
My head snaps up. “My letter?”
“God. Bella, it’s weighed on me like you wouldn’t believe.”
“What letter?”
“Your suicide note.”
I chuff a short laugh. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Mikhail gives me a puzzled and sad look. He moves away from the door, and towards his desk. “I keep it here. Sometimes when I find myself getting a bit short tempered with the dancers, I pull it out to remind myself what I did to you.”
I snatch the folded over sheet of parchment out of his hand. My eyes fly over the slanted cursive. “I can’t go on? The pressure and stress you’ve put me under is too much? I can’t take it anymore? Who the hell wrote this?”
“Maybe you don’t remember after the impact,” Mikhail says softly.
“First off, I liked that you pushed me to be better. Secondly, this is not my handwriting. Thirdly, I would never try to kill myself, and if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t throw myself in front of a moving vehicle to do it.” I drew in a long, stuttering breath, and let out a choking sob. “Where did you find this?”
“Here in my office.”
My mind is reeling. Someone purposefully hit me with that car, and… tried to cover it up? “Mikhail, you sent me a text. You said we were over. You said…” I collapsed back on the chair, and reached for the tumbler of vodka.
“Bella, I never sent you a text. You actually believed I would do that?”
“You actually believed I would kill myself?”
He drops down to his knees right in front of me, and rests his palms on the top of my legs. “I loved you. We were going to get married.”
Oh, shit. “Uhhh…”
“We can fix this,” Mikhail says.
“Mik, I’m with somebody, remember?” I phrase this delicately, mindful that he actually believed I wrote that letter, and he’s been blaming himself this whole time.
“Who is he even? He’s nobody.”
I scoff, and shove his hands off me. “Well, he’s somebody to me. He’s everything to me.”
The corners of his mouth turn down on a forlorn sigh. “Who did this?”
“Someone that can get in here,” I say, but Mikhail never locked his office during the day. “It was someone at the theater. Someone that wanted to get rid of me. Someone that had access to your phone.”
He leaned back on his heels. Blinking at me, his mouth falls open.
“How long was it before you invited Brooke in for a sleepover?”
Mikhail takes the drink out of my hand, like he’s afraid I plan to douse him with it. “Not long,” he admits. “I was upset, and-”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Could she really be capable of such a thing?” he muses out loud, then shakes his head. “God, it had to be her. She was your understudy, and... No wonder she was so pissy about the two of us working together again. She was afraid we’d figure this out. I’m so sorry, Bella. If I had any inkling… We should call the police.”
He makes the call, and I step out in the hall to phone Jack. Feeling incredibly shook, I explain in a tremoring voice why I’ll be a little late getting back to our hotel.
I’m still in a state of weepy shock when I made my way back to Jack a few hours later, tired and wrung out. We stand out on the little balcony, despite the bitter chill, so as not to disturb Sarah’s sleep while I explain what we told the police, what may or may not happen. That letter alone wouldn’t prove much. Brooke may be done at the Riverside theater, but I’m not sure if she’ll ever be held accountable for what she did to me. I clutch onto Jack while I speak, as much because I need to be held as for warmth.
“If this had never happened, you two would be married,” he says over my shoulder.
I pull back a little so I can look at him. “But it did happen, and we’re not.”
“I can’t help but feel like this changes everything.”
“No it doesn’t. Jack, I love you.”
“I love you too, but if this was the
only reason you split up… Let’s be honest, the two of us wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
Oh, god. He must think I’m blubbering over Mikhail or something. I can’t even give a good reason for my tears. I think I’m just overwhelmed. “You’re not wrong. If I’d never been struck by that car, I would’ve never moved in the first place. We would’ve never met, but it’s not like him and I had this fairytale romance.”
“Really? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.” Jack’s hands cup my shoulders, as he gives a sardonic laugh. “He’s the rich and famous dancer you looked up to when you were a girl.”
I rub a hand across my lips, not really wanting to bad mouth Mikhail. “You know, when I was young, before I even knew who Mikhail was, I was obsessed with ballet. Before I’d had my first lesson even. Somehow I had gotten it into my head that my mother was a ballerina, and that’s why she was always gone.
“I’m not sure where the idea came from to begin with, but my grandma let me believe it, because it was easier than telling me the truth. She had a drug problem, and couldn’t take care of me. If she was any kind of dancer, she was a stripper. I guess that’s neither here nor there, but I became absolutely fixated on becoming a ballerina like her so we could be together.
“By the time she died, it was too late. I was completely obsessed. That’s the person Mikhail loved. He didn’t even know the real me. I didn’t even know the real me until I had to stop dancing.” I shudder a little. “God, if we really had gotten married, I don’t know what would’ve become of us after I quit and he eventually retired. We didn’t have a single thing in common besides ballet.”
“I just want you to be happy, Anna. I want to be the one to make you happy, but-”
“You do. Jack, you make me happy every day. Mikhail made me a better dancer, but being with you makes me a better everything. I’m not going to lie to you and say I never loved him, but it was so shallow in relation to what we have. I couldn’t talk to him about other things besides dance, and I can talk to you about anything.”