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Misha
It
was almost three weeks since I resumed my role in the production of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and
instead of feeling at home, I was twitchy and short-tempered. There were too
many loose ends rubbing me raw. Henri put up with my mood swings because he was
a saint, which made me feel even guiltier when I snapped for no reason. Having
to don a happy face while my new dance partner was still learning the ropes was
a delicate balancing act. People expected perfection at this level and learning
to navigate the minefield between positive reinforcement and harsh criticism
was exhausting. The last thing I wanted to do was to crush Darya’s confidence,
but it would take a while for our pas de
deux to become seamless, as it had been with Talia. Nonetheless, we were
making progress with each performance, even though it left me drained by the
end of the evening. Another source of anxiety was Vanaema’s failing health, which
couldn’t be ignored much longer. Dion’s daily texts were discouraging to the
extreme. He wanted to move her to a nursing facility where she could get help
around the clock, but the stubborn woman was having none of it. I would have to
make another trip to Tallinn to convince her.
Privacy
was another issue adding to my stress levels. My request for an apartment
hadn’t been ignored, but this was Russia, and we had to go on a waiting list.
Flaunting my newfound wealth or parlaying my connection with the minister to
move ahead of the queue would lead to jealousy and suspicion. In the interim,
we shared a three-bedroom flat with four other guys who were also former
students of the Vaganova.
They
were gender fluid at least, so there was no need for us to hide the true nature
of our relationship, but we kept the PDAs to a minimum on the off-chance one of
them was a snitch. It wasn’t uncommon for same-sex couples to be jailed on
trumped-up charges because we’d offended someone’s sensibilities. The contrast
between the freedoms offered in New York City to this more hostile environment
was a real game-changer. I had never thought of emigrating until Henri put the
idea in my head, but now it was front and center on my mind.
Talia’s
disappearance was no longer making headlines. I was certain this had nothing to
do with the public’s lack of interest, but more to do with some major finagling
on Onu’s part. After our angry exchange in his office, when he’d forbidden me
to interfere, I had blocked her number so I wouldn’t be tempted to rescue her. Admitting
I was ill-equipped to be her knight in shining armor was galling though. Even
worse was the indifference shown by our fellow dancers? They were of the
opinion that Talia had brought this down on herself by her relentless social
climbing. As far as everyone was concerned, someone would rescue her in the
near future, and she was dismissed from the conversation as if nothing untoward
had happened. It bothered me more than I realized. Shouldering the burden of
her poor decisions was pointless, according to Henri, and no one in our immediate
vicinity would understand why I still felt any loyalty to someone who’d thrown
me under the bus.
Henri
did his best to remain neutral, but I knew what was in his heart; the mere
mention of Talia gave him nightmares. Nonetheless, I appreciated his discretion,
especially around Ilya. He’d come up with us at the Vaganova and had his eyes
on Henri for a while. After our contentious breakup last year, which led to
Henri’s six-month stint at the American Ballet Theater, Ilya dreamed of scooping
up what I’d rejected. He was disappointed when we returned from New York City a
bona fide couple. I had hoped his obsession with my man would dissipate, but I
could tell he was nowhere close to giving up.
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