The point is, if I believed in fate then that meant I was destined to end up pregnant or in jail simply because I was raised in Venton Heights. Nothing I could do would be able to change that.
No, I wasn’t raised to believe in fate. I was taught that if you wanted something you had to go after it. And that’s what I did. Now at eighteen, I was in Rome and starring in a world-class ballet. And fate had nothing to do with it. Eight years of ridiculous amounts of hard work had everything to do with it.
Logically, I knew that I had control over my life. I knew that each decision I made directly affected the next stage in my life. Lately though, the thought of fate had been creeping into my mind. I felt like I didn’t have control over too many things. It was almost like my life was playing out according to some predetermined script. All I could do was sit back and watch.
Was I really meant to be with Damian? Or was Will my soul mate? Did it actually matter? Maybe it was more that I needed to make a decision about who I wanted to be with and then decide to be happy with that person. Given the fact that half of marriages ended up in divorce, it was really just a 50/50 gamble as to whether or not you would be happy after you chose your prospective mate.
Of course, while I was doing all of this in-depth thinking, I happened to be in the rehearsal hall working on a new turn sequence. I loved turns. All kinds of them. Piqués, fouettés, pirouettes, chaînés, all of them. And it wasn’t only because they were beautiful and complicated and mastering them gave me an unmeasured sense of accomplishment. I think it was also because of the uncertainty of them. If you weren’t careful, you could completely lose control, get confused and have no idea where you landed as the room spun around you. But with a little focus, control, and planning, you could execute your turns perfectly and know exactly where you would land through a technique called spotting. You chose a spot or focal point and returned your eyes to it after every turn.
I needed that focal point in my life. I needed something that would always be there and take away some of the uncertainty in my life. I just needed to decide whether that focal point was Damian or Will.
Chapter 11
Fame and Fortune
Damian’s fourth finger was dislocated. Thankfully, he was such a gifted choreographer he could handle changing things up a bit so that he never had to put any weight on it. The changes in the choreography, however, meant that we needed an extra rehearsal.
“Where is everyone?” I asked as I entered the empty studio.
“What do you mean?” he said, not even looking up from where he was delicately wrapping his hand.
“I mean, I thought we had rehearsal.” I dropped my bag and went to help him.
Damian shrugged. “We don’t need anyone else. The changes only affect us.” He stared into my eyes momentarily. I got the feeling he wasn’t only talking about the changes in the routine but the changes in my life.
“I am so sorry about this,” I said, taking the dressings from him. I started to wrap his finger for him so it would move while we danced. I didn’t know what made me think I could do a better job than he could. I just started to wrap it the way I wrapped my sprained ankles.
“I can’t say that I blame him,” Damian said. “If another man was trying to take you away from me, I think I’d go insane as well.”
“Is that what you’re doing Damian? Are you trying to take me away from my husband?” I held his injured hand gently in mine as I stared into his eyes.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re already mine. I just have to make you realize it.” Damian caressed the side of my cheek as he said this.
It would have been so easy to give in to Damian’s advances at this point. We were alone. No one would have known. I was separated from my husband so I could have justified my behavior. And while I found Damian extremely attractive and sensual, the thought of cheating on my husband literally made me sick to my stomach. I actually brought my hand to my mouth to stop myself from vomiting.
“I can’t do this, Damian. I’m not free.”
He nodded almost imperceptibly and said, “I know. I know you better than you think. I know you would never forgive yourself if you cheated on Will.” He held my hand up to his face then kissed the inside of my wrist. “But when we dance, that is a different story. When we dance, we are one.” He gathered me in his arms and we started swaying to the music in our souls.
I hated this. Well, honestly, I guess it was better to say I hated that I loved this. When I was in Damian’s arms, I belonged to him. When we danced together, nothing and no one else existed. I nuzzled into his neck and breathed in his scent. He smelled of spice, warm and inviting. I tried my best to conjure up Will’s smell. I wanted to think of him. I should have been thinking of him. He was my husband. I should definitely be thinking of my husband when tempted by another man, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was how possessive and controlling he was, intermingled with images of Veronica Valerio.
I melted deeper into Damian’s body as he wrapped one arm around my waist and twirled me around the rehearsal floor. He set me down gently and I slid into a right lunge. Damian did a grand tour into a pirouette then lunged beside me.
Hours later, we still danced. We finished the choreography needed for the performance but we couldn’t stop dancing. Not even needing to talk, we just morphed together from one song to the next.
Briefly, I imagined my future with him. I could see myself dancing on stage across the world. There would be fame and fortune. There would most definitely be passion. But I still felt like there would be something missing. I couldn’t put my finger on what. My future just didn’t feel complete. And I just felt confused. I needed time to think. Time without being manipulated by a man. I needed time and distance from Will and Damian. At the same time, I needed time and closeness with myself.
I sometimes forgot that I was only eighteen. Being married and living in another country could do that to you. It made me forget that maybe I shouldn’t need to make these life changing decisions at such a young age. I momentarily resented Will again. For months, I’d told him I didn’t want to get married. I was too young. There were things I wanted to do and accomplish in my life. But he manipulated things, only concerned with his own needs.
Thinking too much and not concentrating on my movement caused me to stumble momentarily. “I think we should stop for the night,” I told Damian.
He nodded in acceptance and released the hold he had on my waist. Looking at his watch he said, “It’s after one in the morning.” Then he just stared at me, his eyes focusing on my lips. He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Lingering close to my face, he whispered, “Let me walk you home.” His warm breath tickled my lips.
Oh no. No. No. I was not letting that happen. Everything else in my dream had come true. There was no way I was willingly going to his room so that I could succumb to my apparent fate and cheat on my husband.
“I think it’s best that you don’t,” I said softly, praying that he would respect my weak resolve.
“Okay.” He kissed me again and then released me.
Not even bothering to gather all of my belongings, I headed out of the studio and called Anna Marie for a ride.
The final weekend was a resounding success. Standing ovations and so many curtain calls I lost count, all in front of a sold out audience. But as I sat in front of my mirror after the last performance, I couldn’t help but feel a blindingly dark sadness. It was over. All over. I might never dance with Damian again; I might never be a headliner.
It was a low point in my life. But when Will stormed into my dressing room, I was sure things were about to get much worse.
Chapter 12
Goodbye
Will slammed the door behind him and then tapped the door knob three times.
“What are you doing here, Will?” The last time Will met me backstage was after one of our arguments. He had just cheated on me with Veronica Valerio and I had no interest in seeing him. He ended up having
to be escorted out by the police. I didn’t want to relive that again. My nerves were shot. I could barely stop shaking after that encounter. I don’t even know how I was able to go on stage. Oh, wait. Damian. He had gotten me through that ordeal. And when we danced together that night, it was like Will didn’t even exist anymore.
What was wrong with me? Will was my husband. I wasn’t supposed to think of other men the way I thought of Damian.
“I don’t want to cause any problems,” Will said, staring into the bunch of white roses in his hand. He held them out to me. “These are for you. You were wonderful ... as always.”
As I took the flowers, a knot developed in my throat. I couldn’t help but think about how he always brought me white flowers when we first met. He said they symbolized my innocence and purity. I was so confused. One minute I was hating Will and thinking about how we always fought, the next minute I was remembering how completely in love with him I was. I guessed that saying was true: There really was a thin line between love and hate.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” I said, hugging them to my chest. The bunch looked like more than a dozen. I didn’t need to count. I knew they would be some multiple of three.
Will ran his fingers through his golden hair and took a deep breath. “I came for another reason as well.” He reached out and tapped the doorknob three times again. “I came to say goodbye.”
“How long will you be gone this time?” I asked, assuming he was going to another European tournament.
Will shook his head and tapped the doorknob again. Wow, he was really anxious. He needed a doctor. In all the time we’d been in Rome, he never went to a doctor regularly. It scared me. Sometimes I really felt he needed to be on some sort of medication before something bad happened. “Forever,” he said. “I’m not coming back.”
“Ever? What do you mean? Why?” I asked standing.
“Dashon Talbot called in a favor for me. I’ve been invited to play in the summer leagues in the States. I’m going to be with the Kings.”
“Kings? What kings? What are you talking about?”
Will smiled then tapped the door knob again. “The Sacramento Kings. It’s an NBA team in California.”
“Oh,” I said, sitting back down. It was kind of pathetic that I didn’t know that considering my husband was a professional basketball player whose dream was to play in the NBA one day.
“If everything goes well,” he added, “I’ll be signing with a team in the fall. Maybe them, maybe someone else.”
“Really? Will, that’s amazing!” I said jumping out of my seat. I was about to hug him when I realized he wasn’t in a hugging mode. “It’s what you’ve always wanted,” I said quietly.
He didn’t respond. He just kept staring at the doorknob and tapping it every few seconds. Three times, of course. Will was obsessed with the number three. It was a part of his obsessive compulsive disorder. He had good days when he would be able to go a few hours without doing something in triplicate. And then he had bad days when I swear he even breathed in triplicate. I think today was a bad day.
I sat back down and sniffed my roses. “I mean, I’m really happy for you,” I said, trying to seem more composed. “Your dreams are finally coming true.”
Will looked at me strangely then said, “You are my dream.”
My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t speak.
“Europe has too many bad memories for me now,” he continued. “Memories of my mistakes. Of how I hurt you. Of how I lost you.”
I stared down into my flowers. I wanted to tell him that he hadn’t lost me. That we could work things out, but I wasn’t sure.
“I signed the divorce papers,” he said after a few moments of silence.
“Divorce papers?” was all I could manage to say. Divorce already? When did I say anything about divorce? Or maybe I didn’t need to. He obviously wanted to end things. Who was I to stop him?
“You don’t want to be married to me anymore?” I asked.
“You’re free to be with him now,” he said without looking at me.
“Will, that’s not –”
“Don’t lie, Sonya. You’re really bad at it. We both know it’s what you want. And I know the only thing holding you back has been that little slip of paper that says we’re man and wife.” I didn’t like the sound of hopelessness in his voice. It was as if he had given up on everything. Part of me wanted him to fight for us. But then the other part of me felt relieved that I wouldn’t have him around trying to control me anymore.
“Will, it’s not only Damian that drove us apart. You did a pretty good job of it yourself.”
He pressed his eyes shut tightly as if my words caused him physical pain.
“Damn it, Sonya,” he began. But then he took a deep breath and started again. “Fine. It was all my fault, okay? And if you want, I could sit here and list every little thing I’ve done wrong and I could apologize all over again, but that won’t be enough, will it?” He paused and closed his eyes. “My biggest mistake was loving you too much,” he said after opening his eyes and blinking away tears. “And there’s nothing I can do about that. I’ll always love you.” Will stepped toward me and kissed me on the forehead. “Goodbye, Angel.”
Chapter 13
To Russia with Love
Everything in me screamed for Will to stay. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. I just couldn’t let myself tell him that I loved him as well and I wanted to try to work it out. I think I was afraid. I was afraid of being hurt again. I was afraid that our love wouldn’t be enough to support our marriage. Logically, it should be. Love and marriage should be that simple, right? But with Will, things were always so much more complicated.
A part of it, of course, was pride. I was too proud to admit that I needed him. For so much of my life I relied on my backstabbing sister, Sasha. And now, for the last almost two years, I had been relying completely on Will. I wanted to rely on myself. I wanted to show that I could survive on my own. Well, I wanted to do more than survive; I wanted to succeed. I wanted to show that I could make my own dreams come true and some day dance in Russia.
Staying with Will, that might not happen. He was a world-class basketball player. He wanted to play in the NBA in the States. How would we be able to make a marriage work across continents? It might just be easier now to make a clean break before something like kids complicated matters even further.
I think I sat staring at those divorce papers for the better part of an hour. Was I really ready to end my marriage? It had just started. Who knew, maybe after a few years we would find our way back to each other. What was that saying? If you loved something, set it free. I never really understood that saying. It seemed counterintuitive and just plain stupid. If you loved something, you’re supposed to hold on to it and cherish it, not send it away. It seemed like someone just made up that saying to make themselves feel better about leaving. I sighed. That was exactly what I was doing now. Will might be the one heading back to the States right now, but I was the first one to leave. If our marriage failed, it would be my fault.
A soft tapping on the door brought me out of my thoughts.
“You are going to love me forever,” Damian said, smiling like a Cheshire cat. He entered my dressing room and closed the door behind him. After taking a look at my face, the smile melted away. “What’s wrong? What did he do to you?” he asked, taking me into his arms.
“Nothing,” I said trying to hold back tears. “He just wanted to say goodbye. He’s going back to the States.”
Pulling away, I showed him the papers. “We’re getting a divorce,” I said. Suddenly, I couldn’t hold in the tears anymore.
Damian led me to the couch. He held me and rubbed my back for a few minutes. He whispered something in Russian that I couldn’t quite make out. After years of being obsessed with the Russian Ballet, I really hadn’t put enough effort into learning the language. Sure I could say a few things like ‘where’s the bathroom?’ and “where’s my
leotard?’ but that was about it.
“What did you say?” I asked him.
After taking a deep breath, he said, “It is difficult for me to comfort you when I am so happy inside.”
This made me cry even more. When I had finally cried everything out of me, I took a few deep breaths then stared at the man whose arms held me. The man who created magic with me on stage.
He smiled and said, “I have news that will make you forget all about your basketball player.” I noticed how Damian apparently refused to even speak Will’s name lately. He even refused to use the word husband most of the time. I think he felt he really wasn’t truly my husband because of the dishonest way Will had behaved.
I knew Damian was trying to make me feel better, but he didn’t understand. I could never forget Will. We would forever be connected.
“What is it?” I pulled away from Damian and cleaned my tear streaked face.
“Well, the director wanted to come himself, but my mother insisted that I be the one to tell you.”
“Your mother?” His mother was Natalia Karleskaya of the Russian Ballet. She had been my idol since I was eight years old. “What does your mother have to do with this?”
“Look at you salivating at the mention of my mother. I swear you might love her more than me,” he kissed me softly on the lips and then continued his cryptic smiling. Standing from the couch he walked over to my makeup table.
I had to admit, the mention of his mother’s name did instantly change my mood. Natalia Karleskaya single-handedly inspired me to dance. I watched countless video performances of her when she was principal with the Russian Ballet. I even danced her solo as an audition piece to a summer academy I attended in Barcelona, Spain. She was, well, is my inspiration.
The Saint of Petersburg (Dancing Dream #3) Page 5