I Left My Heart in Moscow but My Love Waits in Pittsburgh

“It’s almost midnight,” Jordan stated plainly.

“Really? Have we been talking for that long?” My eyes wandered to the alarm clock on the night stand. 11:57 PM. Time seemed to be moving too fast, I found myself wishing for time to slow down, for our conversation to never end.

“Yeah, I guess we have,” Jordan mumbling the last few words as he yawned.

“Tired?” I teased.

“Yeah, I guess I am,”

“Go to bed, I’d hate to be the one to keep you up,”

“Really? I mean we can still talk if you want,” Jordan replied sleepily as he fought to suppress another yawn.

“No, I want you to sleep,” I said definitively, I was ‘putting my foot down’ as Anna would say.

“If you say so,” Jordan relented, “Good night Sveta, I love you,”

Those last three words made my heart stop. My mouth went dry. I tried to swallow the lump that was undoubtedly forming in my throat as I attempted to say something in response. “Good night Jordan,” I managed to choke out.

“Sveta, is there something wrong?”

“C-can you please not say that?”

“What? Goodnight?” Jordan must have been completely oblivious.

“No, I love you. I just don’t want you saying it and me not. It would be like if I was calling you my boyfriend and you weren’t calling me your girlfriend,” I tried in vain to explain.

“Yeah sure, sure no problem,” Jordan said, his tone was indifferent and hard to read, I wish I could tell if he was hurt or not by what I had said, “Well, goodnight Sveta, I really really like you,”

“Goodnight Jordan, I really really like you too,” I replied with a wide smile as I shut my phone. I couldn’t help but feel giddy, grinning like a fool as I curled underneath my blanket. After I was comfortably settled in my bed, my phone suddenly started to vibrate, the suddenness made my heart jump. It was a text from a number I did not recognize.

“I’m sorry for what I said last night. I feel terrible, maybe I should lay off the vodka –Evgeni,” My eyes read the flowing cyrillic script, seeing his name made my mouth go dry, my eyes well up in tears, my heart beat erratically. I wasn’t sure what to text back in response. What does one say in response to something like that? ‘Its okay, don’t worry about it’, just doesn’t seem to fit the bill.

“We all make mistakes,” was all I could think of as a reply.

“I know and I made a big one, please forgive me,” Evgeni texted back in record time. I could only imagine the innocent look in his eyes and pout that was undoubtedly played on his lips, as he texted his response.

“Of course I forgive you,” I felt so weak, I could never say no to him. He had such a hold on me, I wish he could just set me free and leave me be. I wish I could just say no and resist him, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I could feel the vibration of my phone, indicating that Evgeni had replied, but I forced myself to not read the text. I was scared of what it said. I was scared of what I would reply back. But, I couldn’t help it. I was so weak.
I read the text: “Thank you for being so understanding. We should meet up for drinks soon. Goodnight, my love.” My love. It sounds sad, it sounds pathetic but those two words made me feel so good, like they validated my trip to Pittsburgh, like they validated my existence. It was a cheap thrill, though, the type that didn’t last and left you craving for more.

“Goodnight,” I texted back, no matter how much I wanted it to. I couldn’t bring myself to put those four letters into the text. As I laid my head on my pillow, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to convince myself that I had not just fallen back under Evgeni’s spell.

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“Jordan,” She whispered huskily in my ear. Her dark brown hair cascading in waves down her back as a few locks fell into her face, covering those golden eyes. Those eyes, they reminded me of so many things: the sun, the leaves in the fall, the golden wheat that grew in Thunder Bay, the glass of Jack Daniels or the shot of tequila that I often found myself drinking. It fit so perfectly, her eyes were as intoxicating as any alcohol yet she was as pure and as wholesome as nature itself. “Jordan,” she moaned into my ear as my hands traveled from her slender thighs to slide under her shirt and explored the smooth expanse of skin, caressing the soft, supple flesh that seemed to beg for my touch. Was it my fingers or her skin that was so scorching hot? It didn’t matter as I found myself kissing the base of her neck, near the collar bone, sucking on the delicate skin, knowing it would leave a mark. I worked my way up, as I found her sweet spot, just below her jaw line off to the side where you would take your pulse. It was an adrenaline rush to feel her pulse quicken as I nipped the sensitive skin with my teeth, eliciting a whimper. Then I caught her swollen lips in kiss, it was hungrier, more passionate than any kiss I’ve ever given. It was like a fire, that was consuming me, but I didn’t mind. She pulled away and those champagne eyes bore into mine as she whispered, “Jordan.”

“Sveta,” I whispered as I woke up from my dream. It was so real, the taste of her skin, the heat of her body, the scent of her hair. I need a cold shower. It wasn’t so much that I was dreaming of Sveta, it was that I was dreaming of her every time I slept. It wasn’t just when I slept at night, it was when I took my naps, when I closed my eyes, when I let my mind wander, I didn’t even have to be unconscious. The image, the sensations were seared into my brain and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need a cold shower.

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“This is John and Kevin,” Charlie introduced, “John’ll be taking pictures and Kevin’ll be interviewing you for the local magazine.”

“Hi,” I said shaking both of their hands, it was after lunch and we hadn’t started class yet. All day, everyone was buzzing about John and Kevin. From what I understood, John was famous from his works in fashion magazines, which only added more fuel to the fire. The duo had been shooting and interviewing everyone, some for a few seconds others for a few hours.

“Okay, now we have to get to work,” Charlie declared as he clapped his hands together, “We’re going to be working on another lift,” which elicited groans from the pair of us.

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This rehearsal was difficult to say the least. We learned the second-third of the routine, which meant learning two new lifts.

“Svetlana, right?” John asked as I started packing up.

“Yeah, that’s me,”

“Well, you’re the last one,” John said gesturing to his camera, “We brought a wardrobe it’s in the costuming workshop. So, get changed and we’ll shoot you in here.”

“Sure thing,” I said with a smile as I made my way to the Workshop. Wendy, the costume lady, was there waiting for me.

“Hey, Svetlana, finally. Okay, lemme find your outfits,” Wendy said as she started to sift through hangers.

“Outfits?”

“Yeah, I think we have a few outfits for you,” Wendy clarified as she pulled out two hangers. They were basically dance clothes, except these were dance clothes that were made by designer brands. “You can get dressed here, and take the pictures and come back to change.”

I simply nodded as I changed out of my leotard into a pair of white patterned shorts and a white off-the-shoulder shirt with a rendering of a palm tree on the front. I slid on a pair of gray legwarmers and made my way to the studio. When, I walked in the studio John had his camera set up on a tripod and Terrence and Charlie were sitting behind a computer with Kevin, which I assumed where the pictures were being uploaded. “Hi,” I said shyly.

“Fantastic that looks great on you,” John complimented, “Now we’re going for a lot of beautiful shapes and some shots of you just kind of casual, too. So we’re going to do a wide variety of shots. Just warm up and do some stretches, and we’ll go from there.”
And I did just that. I just warmed up at the bar regularly, the only difference being the clicking sound of John’s camera. After I had sufficiently warmed up, I started doing some battements, like we would in class. “Hey Svetlana!” Charlie bantered, “How high can you battement?”

“I don’t know let’s see?” I suggested as I développéd my leg through coupé forward into a Y-scale, holding my ankle for stability, I looked over my shoulder back at Charlie, “That high, I guess.” Before Charlie could respond, there was a series of clicks, indicating that John had taken a picture.

“That’s the money shot. Okay, great those are looking good,” John said as he browsed through the pictures on his camera, “Now how about you change and we try some action shots?”

“Sure,” I said as I hurriedly changed into a different outfit, which was a loose, black, jersey dress with black legwarmers. After about a few shots of me doing saut de chats and grand jetés, and just dancing, they asked me to change once again. This time, they just wanted me to look casual and nonchalant. When we finally finished shooting it was almost dinner time and I was dead tired. It sounds silly that someone would be tired from a photo shoot, but it was long, tedious work.

By the time, I was at the apartment, Alicia and Anna had just finished making dinner. “How was the photo shoot?” Anna asked.

“It was okay, tiring. They had me wear a bunch of different outfits,” I answered as I sat at the table, piling salad and chicken on my plate, “How about you? What have you guys been doing?”

“Oh nothing really, relaxing, resting,” Alicia said as she started to eat.

“Do you wanna go out with us?” Anna asked, “We’re gonna go to this new club that’s opening tonight,”

“No, its okay,” I politely declined, “I think I’ve had my fair share of clubs for now.”

“Come on,” Alicia pleaded, “One club, that’s all you’ve been to since you came here,”

“I know it’s pathetic, but I’m pretty tired. I think I’m just gonna wash up and then go to bed,” I yawned.

“Sure, sure,” Anna acquiesced, “But, one of these days were gonna get you in a club,”

“Okay, I promise,” I said as we finished dinner. I volunteered to do the dishes since, I did not help make dinner.

After showering and changing into pajamas, I slid underneath my quilt. Then, my phone started to ring, it was Jordan.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Hi, Sveta, it’s Jordan,”

“Hi, is something wrong Jordan?” I asked, this wasn’t normal. He never called me, we usually were content with a few texts here and there.

“No, nothing at all,” Jordan replied cheerfully, “I just wanted to hear your voice. How was your day?”

“Good, these guys from the local magazine took pictures of us and we’re really progressing into the dance.”

“Sounds cool, so are you gonna be a cover girl soon?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s just going to be a little piece to help promote the showcase.”

“Well, I’m going to be the first one at the news stand to buy some copies,”

“Thanks,” I said as I could feel my cheeks blush to a light red.

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?” Jordan teased.

“How can you tell? You can’t even see me,”

“I’m telling you, I’m psychic. I have like ESP or something,”

“More like ESPN,” I joked.

“Ouch, that hurts, baby,” Jordan said in mock pain.

“So is this becoming our new thing?”

“What? You making jokes at my expense?”

“That too, but I was thinking more along the lines of before-bed-phone-calls,”

“It is, if you want it to be. It’ll come in handy when I go on away games.”

“I think I’d like that,” I mused.

“Me too,” The sincerity in his voice, made me feel warm inside. I don’t know how long we were on the phone, not saying anything. But it was like we didn’t need to say anything, we just needed to know that somewhere was there on the other line ready to listen if we did need to say anything. I felt my eyelids grow heavy as I stifled a yawn. “Are you tired?” Jordan asked worried.

“A little bit, I guess. It’s been a long day,” I said as I, again, tried to stifle my yawn.

“Look whose sleepy now,” Jordan teased, referring to last night, “Go to sleep Sveta,” Jordan added more seriously.

“Okay, I will,” I said nodding out of habit.

“Can I come visit you tomorrow? At the Theatre? We have a short practice tomorrow.”

“Yeah, of course. I think we’re doing costumes tomorrow, so you can visit me in the Workshop, during fittings. Charlie and Wendy won’t mind,”

“I’d like that. You should sleep Sveta. Goodnight, I really really like you.”

“Goodnight Jordan, I really really like you too,” I said as I shut my phone and snuggled underneath the blankets and fell into what I hoped was a dreamless sleep, but was I wrong.

“Svetlana,” a husky voice, which I instantly recognized as Jordan’s groaned. My eyes of molten gold met his eyes of ocean blue. There was a wanting, one that blurred the lines between lust and love. My lips brushed against his in a fluttery kiss. The kiss was chaste and pure but Jordan eagerly exploited it, caressing my lower lip with his tongue, which made a shiver run up and down my spine. The skill was expected but the tenderness surprised me, he was carefully undemanding as in one smooth stroke he entered my mouth. He tasted of something sweet yet spicy, something that was uniquely Jordan. It was over all too soon, as he pulled away. I found myself fixated by those sapphire orbs that seemed too blue to be real. Slowly, flecks of brown stained those china blue eyes. The onyx slowly spread, taking over the lapis lazuli. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I knew whose eyes they were. I caught the faint glimmer of those dark chocolate eyes before Evgeni’s mouth came down on mine. I tried to pull away, startled by the suddenness, but weight of his body held me still. The kiss was hungry, yearning, and… rough. The passion was fierce, almost overwhelming. He kissed me as if he was trying to rob the air from my lungs, as if it was the last thing he would ever do. “Svetlana, Svetlana,” he repeated breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss.

“Jordan,” I may have been dreaming of both Evgeni and Jordan, but when I woke it was Jordan’s name that was on my lips. When I woke, my heart was pumping so fast, so hard, that it felt like I had just ran a mile. I quickly took a shower and got ready for class. As the three of us, Anna, Alicia and I, sat on the bus. I couldn’t help but think about the dream. It was so vivid, so graphic.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Anna said looking at me with those smiling eyes that I missed so much.

“I don’t know,” I sighed exasperated, “I’m thinking about Jordan,” About Evgeni, I thought silently to myself. While we have become closer, I didn’t dare tell Anna about Evgeni. “How do I know that what we have is really love and not just lust? I hear all these things from everyone about Jordan,” I was at my wit’s end, or at least if felt like it. I rested my head against the cool window, knitting my eyebrows together in frustration. The cool glass soothed the throbbing pain that hadn’t, that almost couldn’t, leave.

“You’ll know, you’ll just know. The difference between love and lust is extreme. Love is an emotion, lust is just a physical need like hunger. Love is so much more, it’s trust. Without trust, there can’t be love. So ask yourself, do I trust him? Do I trust him not to hurt me? Because when you love someone, you’re giving them the power to shatter you into tiny little pieces but you trust them not to. Do I trust him with the most delicate parts of me, emotionally and physically? Can I trust him to love me? Because without trust, there can be no love,” Anna’s eyes were wistful and glassy as she spoke.

“Thank you,” was all I could muster. The expression on her face made me wonder how she knew all of this but I didn’t dare press the subject. She would tell me when she trusted me enough to keep that secret. Until then, I will wait patiently.

“So,” Alicia said, stretching out the ‘o’, “How’s the pas de deux going?”

“Good, I guess. It’s really difficult, when we first started, Charlie spent a good hour trying to break down my center to make the movements more fluid and more modern. But, it kind of clicked after that, so it’s running pretty smoothly. We’re hoping to finish the choreography, so we can start polishing. How about you?”

“It’s going great. It’s totally up my alley. There’s this tango flavor to it with this old French can-can twist. It’s gonna be uh-mazing!” The wide grin that was plastered on Alicia’s face told it all.

I was going to ask Anna but, it was a sore subject. Luckily, we had reached the Theatre and I didn’t have to ask. Class was the same routine, stretch, barre work, and then across the floor. It was usual, it was necessary, it was uneventful. But today was different.
“Okay, ladies. Today we will be focusing on leaps, I want you to really get them up in the rafters and really get that extension, hit those splits. The combination is tombé pas de boureé, pas de chat with quarter turn so that you’re facing the mirror, right chassé, left chassé, saut de chat, tour jeté, grand jeté en tournant, chaîné off. It’s difficult, I know, but really try to get the elevation and keep the energy up till the end. 1, 2, 3, 4,” Madame Stiefel counted and clapped as the first line went.

I was confident with the combination, save for the tour jeté, grand jeté en tournant combination it was uncannily similar to the combination that I injured my ankle on. I forced myself to smile and told myself I could do it. I closed my eyes, visualizing myself doing the combination perfectly, without locked knees, without an awkward landing, without a rolled ankle. I focused on nothing but doing that combination as perfect and as beautiful as I could.

“5, 6, 7, 8, and go,” Madame Stiefel counted as it suddenly came to my line’s turn. I went full force, I didn’t hold back, I didn’t let any apprehension or fear seep into my performance. I just performed. By the time I landed the grand jeté en tournant, I didn’t have to force a smile, I was beaming from ear to ear.

Then Martha’s line was up, she was never a good jumper, particularly after she tore her left ACL. But today the determination in her eyes, told all of us that she was going to change that. But, I knew something was wrong. On her saut de chat, Martha’s knee wavered and seemed to buckle but she kept on going. I wanted to cry out and tell her to not go for the following leaps, but it was like a movie where everything was moving in slow motion and you couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. A hush fell over the studio as Martha never got to finish the combination. She landed her tour jeté and her right knee looked unstable and wobbled as she started to initiate the turn to get the momentum into the jeté. As she turned, a sickening pop echoed in the studio which was followed by the Martha sobbing and screaming, “Why!”

I knew. I knew she tore her other ACL. I knew as I saw the trainers test her knee. I knew as they carried her to Therapy Room. I knew Martha would be out for the season. I knew that now, Anna had the lead in the Glass Slipper. I knew.