Status: Renovation in process

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

No Straight Answer

I yawned, “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. How's it at Flower's house?”

“It's okay. Vero's been super nice and we watched TV and she's going to drop me off at the Theatre tomorrow. How's Sweden?”

“Gloomy and grueling. I have a game in two days.”

“You shouldn't worry about it. I'm sure you'll do great. It was pretty exhausting today, too. I had to go in very, very early for pilates and yoga and I had to work on my solo before company class.”

“Go to sleep, Sveta.”

“I don't need to.”

“Why?”

“I already found the man of my dreams.”

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I groaned as I soaked my feet in the ice bath. It had been a packed day. The Company introduced a new program to help prevent injuries that meant yoga, pilates and therapy. Since opening day for the Showcase was drawing nearer, rehearsals were getting more intense and we started working our variations on the stage. We had just completed the first two run-throughs of several to come in, soon the castings for The Nutcracker will be announced and we'll start working on those parts, too. I let out a sigh of relief as I leaned against the wall. This is the life.

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Life is good, Evgeni thought to himself as he woke up from his daily nap. Life is good. He sat up in the plush hotel bed, looking for Oksana, who had insisted on coming. “Oksanochka?” he called out. Where was she? Was she even here?

Oksana was here all right. She stomped in the moment she knew he was awake. “What the hell is this?” She threw a stack of old letters and pictures in Evgeni's face.

It took him a while to realize what they were. Lana. It was the mementos he had kept. Why he had kept them and taken them with him to Sweden, no less? He doesn't even know. He was hardly the sentimental type. Perhaps it's true, you never forget your first love. “Old letters and photographs,” Evgeni replied calmly.

“I can see that,” Oksana fumed. “Why the fuck are they with you? And why are they from that bitch?”

“Don't you dare call her that,” Evgeni spat.

“What the hell is going on?” Oksana screamed. She picked up a letter, “Evgeni, I miss you so much. It's so lonely here in Moscow. Everyone seems to be in such a rush, trying to get from here to there. Everyone moves like clockwork, hustling and bustling, and I feel so out of place. I often find myself thinking about that night, do you? We shared something special that night and nothing will ever change that. I love you so much, I don't think my heart can bear it.” Oksana read mocking Svetlana's voice. She picked up another letter, “Evgeni, you're right. We're never as far as we seem. Soon we'll be together. No amount of distance can keep us apart. Things are getting better. I'm doing well in my classes. My partner is also a hockey player; though he doesn't play anymore because of concussions. I worry about you. I'm worried that you might get injured or get a concussion and I won't be able to be with you. I won't be able to hold your hand in the hospital as you recover.”

“You're not going to finish it?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, “I wish we could press fast forward and just get married, like we've planned. You can play with the Rangers and I can dance with ABT or NYCB. Can you imagine how perfect that would be? With much love, ” She snarled, “Why do you have them?”

“Because they're mine.”

“Why did you bring them!” Oksana grew more and more frustrated. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

“They're important to me.”

“God damn it, Zhenya! Give me a straight answer!”

“You want a straight answer? There isn't one.”

“You don't want to answer any of my questions. Fine,” Oksana stormed out of the suite.

Evgeni stared at the letters scattered on the bed. He picked a few up. His eyes adjusting to the flowing cursive Cyrillic, he read them, transporting him back in time.

“Evgeni,

I know it's hard and I understand the difficulties of a long distance relationship, but my answer is still the same when we were together. No one understands me the way you do. No one can. What I wouldn't give for what others consider normal. Conversations in the open. Dinner with our parents. Nights spent together. Nights with you.

Love,
Svetlana”

“Evgeni,

Where are you? It's been two weeks since your last letter. Are you alright? Are you on a road trip? Are you injured? I wonder when I will be able to come back to you.

Love,
Svetlana”


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“Svetlana!” Jake, the media relations guy, came holding a mic and followed by a camera, similar to those used on TV. “This is Svetlana Khitrova, one of our new stars. She was recently promoted to principal. You may notice this lovely face on news stands through out Pittsburgh as this month's Whirl! Covergirl. But I have to tell you, she looks way better in person.”

I blushed and looked down, trying to look anywhere but at the camera.

“So, Svetlana. We've been asking everyone what they love most about dance. What about ballet do you love most?” Jake asked, shoving the mic in my face. “This is a family show, so no swearing.”

“Where to start? There are so many things. Ballet is one of the few art forms to stay intact, throughout the years. It feels amazing to be a part of something so pure and honest. I think we have such a luxury to live so many lives. One night Juliet, the next Giselle, and after that Odette and Odile. I get to feel love, betrayal, I get to die so many times that I don't think you can live as much in life as you get to live in onstage.”

“That's great,” He nodded, “Okay, everyone wants to know, is it true that you and Jordan Staal, of Pittsburgh Penguins fame, are an item?”

My cheeks warmed to a shade of pink and I looked down, not sure how to answer it.

“She's blushing! That must mean it's true!” Jake teased.

I looked up into the camera and smiled.

“Have you met any of the other Penguins yet? Sidney Crosby? Max Talbot? Evgeni Malkin?”

It sickened me how my heart still skipped a beat at the sound of his name, “Actually, Evgeni Malkin and I both come from Magnitogorsk. The arena he skated at is actually across the street from the studio, where I trained.”

“Now, we do have another reason as to why we are here. We're asking all the dancers on what they're dream role would be in the upcoming production of The Nutcracker and why?”

The Nutcracker has a special place in my heart. It was the first ballet I danced onstage in Mariinsky Theatre. I was 8 years old and I was one of the children and a snowflake. I've danced almost every role in The Nutcracker, at one point or another. I've been Candy Cane, Coffee, Tea, Hot Chocolate, Sugarplum Fairy, and Clara. But in Russia, we perform the Yuri Grigorovich's version and here, I believe, you guys do Balanchine verion, yes?”

“We do.”

“In Balanchine's version, he replaces the Waltz of the Flowers corps with a Dewdrop soloist and a corps. I would love to dance Dewdrop. I've never danced it before and there would be so much to explore.”

“That was good," Jake nodded as he watched back the video, "Now we need a clip of you introducing yourself, where you are from and your position in the Company.”

“Hi, I'm Svetlana Khitrova from Magnitogorsk, Russia and I'm a principal with the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre.”

“Okay, that's great, Svetlana,” Jake waved to the camera guy to turn off the camera. “This'll be on YouTube, soon. Be sure to watch it.”

“I will,” I nodded and stepped out of the ice bath.

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“Look who's here,” Tyler groaned at the sight of the buxom blonde walking into the bar. “She isn't even here with Evgeni.” Tyler sucked in a deep breath of air as if trying to prepare himself for what was to come.

Oksana sauntered in, wedging herself between Jordan and Kris. “Aren't any of you boys going to buy a lady a drink?”

“I would, but there's no lady here,” Max snapped back.

Her face sours for a moment before quickly smiling sweetly, “I don't intend on getting drunk anyways,” She turned to Jordan, her hand rubbing his shoulder, eventually moving on to stroking his bicep, “Jordan,” The ice blonde purred, “Evgeni and I are at odds right now,” Her voice trailed off.

Jordan wrenched his arm away from her, as if she had talons for fingers. “Why don't you go find some other guy to drag to your lair?” Jordan grimaced at the thought of Oksana and him in bed.

“Don't be like that,” She pouted, twirling her platinum hair around her finger, “After all, you already are with Evgeni's sloppy seconds.”

“What?” Jordan choked out.

“Oh did I say too much? Woopsies,” She giggled and haughtily sauntered out of the bar.

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“What the hell just happened? Did she say I'm already with Evgeni's sloppy seconds?” Jordan asked in confusion.

“I think she did,” Max said slowly.

Kris swallowed the lump in his throat. He suddenly became acutely aware of how hot it was and he knew that a red splotch had appeared on his kneck. He cleared his throat and reached for his drink, quickly downing the liquor.

“Kris are you okay?” Max asked, patting him on the back.

“Yeah, I guess the alcohol went straight to my head. I'm not feeling too good. I'm gonna head up,” Kris excused himself and left. At that moment, Kris realized that the having a secret wasn't the worst thing; it was keeping one.

“Weird,” Tyler mumbled. He reached across the table, “What's this?” A photograph. “Is that Geno? And Svetlana?” It was a photo of Evgeni and Svetlana by a lake. He had his arms wrapped around her tiny waist and he was lifting her up off the ground, like it was nothing. The sun made the photograph seem overexposed. They were smiling and happy. They were in love.

“Did Oksana leave that here?” Max asked looking at the photo. “Here man, see for yourself,” Max took the thin paper and handed it to Jordan.

Jordan silently stared at the photo. Shock. Confusion. Anger. Jealousy. More confusion. Then, nothing. Just hurt.

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“So, I don't want to sound childish but has Jordan said anything about me?” I giggled as Vero and I had a spa night.

“Marc said Jordan got mad a week ago because of the pool the guys have going,” Vero pursed her lips as she focused on painting her toes a bright coral.

“A pool?” I reclined against the sofa. “Is this supposed to sting?” I asked, pointing to the mint green goop slathered on my face in an effort to shrink my pores and get rid of acne.

“Yeah, if it stings, it means it's working. The guys were betting on how long you and Jordan would last. According to my sources aka Marc, Jordan was pretty pissed in the lack of confidence in him and the fact that the longest bet was Sidney's three-and-a-half months.”

“That's all they think that Jordan and I will last?” I said glumly, frowning.

“It's not you. It's just Jordan has a history, you know?”

I do know.

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Jordan's been staring at his phone for God knows how long. It was sitting on the nightstand as if it was daring him to call Sveta. The old photograph of Svetlana and Evgeni was in tightly wadded ball in his hand. He had been staring at the picture, then crumpling it up, only to smooth it out to stare at it again.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Jordan grabbed the phone off the table and dialed the one person who could make sense of the whole situation. A part of him hoped he would hear the click of the phone indicating an answer, another part hoped that it would keep ringing and ringing and no one would pick up.

He inwardly grimaced as he heard her pick up, “Hello? Mom?”
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Here's the new chapter and late, as usual. Sorry! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please comment with your thoughts and feedback!