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

I was peacefully sleeping when the harsh sound of my phone broke my delicate sleep. I dragged myself to my phone to see that there was one new text message. It read: “Change of plans, I’m coming over now. –Jordan” I groaned, it was 9:32 AM, I was hoping to sleep in, it was my day-off after all. I didn’t even bother to reply to his text. Instead, I dragged myself off the bed and took a hot-cold-hot shower to wake me up. I tugged on a pair of dark, slim cut jeans, slipped on a white, ribbed tank top, and wrapped a black cardigan around me. As I was slipping on my black, leather ballerina flats, my phone started buzzing, yet again, with the notification that I had one new text. “Outside, waiting – Jordan,” It read. I quickly wrote a note for Alicia and Anna, stating that I was going out and I wasn’t sure when I would be back.

I was waiting for the elevator, when there was a soft ding, announcing the elevator’s arrival, the doors opened revealing Alejandro. He was leaning against the wall of the elevator, his arms crossed against his chest, a pair of dark sunglasses concealing his eyes. I dreaded having to go into the elevator, I was dreading the awkward conversation, or worse the awkward silence, but there was no way out of it. If I chose to wait for the next elevator, then it’ll seem like I’m avoiding him and I’m already having lunch with him tomorrow. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what was coming up next, before entering the elevator.

“So, where you going?” Alejandro asked.

“I’m going out with a friend, remember?” I respond, hoping to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, yeah.”

“So how about you? Going out for breakfast?”

“Nah, going out for a smoke,” Alejandro said shaking a carton of cigarettes in my face, the cigarettes inside made a soft, scraping noise against the carton, “You want one?”

“Oh, no, I don’t smoke, but thank you for offering,” I reply, inwardly grimacing at the dirty habit.

“Alright,” Alejandro said shrugging his shoulders, “We still on for Sunday lunch?”

“Yeah, of course, why not?”

“Nothing just wondering, thought maybe you had other plans with friends,” Alejandro said flatly, to be honest the words stung. He was acting like the jealous boyfriend, which he obviously isn’t.

“Oh, that is not the case, I’m free for tomorrow.” I say as I can feel the thick silence enveloping us, only the dinging of the elevator pierced the silence. Finally, the doors opened and I walked out of the elevator as fast as I could without seeming eager. I let out a sigh of relief and couldn’t help but smile when I saw Jordan leaning against the door of his car, dressed casually in beige, madras shorts and a red shirt that looks like it’s been worn several times with dark sunglasses obscuring his blue eyes from my vision.

“Finally, took you long enough to get out here,” Jordan teased.

“Well, I think I got out here pretty fast considering your text woke me up,” I defend, my words coming out sharper than I intended.

“Okay, sorry for making sure you had fun today,” Jordan said sarcastically as he walked over to me and slung his arm around my shoulders, as we walked towards his car, he continued, “Now we’ve got a full day ahead of us, I gotta introduce you to a lot of guys today, but we’ll have breakfast first.”

I merely nodded, “That’s great,” I say as he opens the door of his car for me, with a great flourish. I couldn’t help but giggle at his chivalry as I slid into the passenger seat.

“You’re gonna love this place, they have the best French toast in the world,” Jordan says as we start to drive.

“Sounds fantastic, so how has training been?”

“Hard, but hey, if it was easy they’d call it dancing,” Jordan said teasingly.

“Hey!” I say as I shove his arm, causing him to swerve.

“Ahh! Don’t abuse the driver!” Jordan exclaimed as he managed to get back on his side of the road.

“Yeah, well ballet is hard! You try dancing en pointe from 10:30 to 4:00, while finding time for Pilates, yoga, cardio, and some how eat a balanced diet. ”

“Okay, okay, dancing is hard,” Jordan said as he rubbed his arm.

“As hard as hockey,” I added, Jordan shot me a look of disbelief. I swiftly punched him in the arm, again, causing him to swerve, again.

“Alright, geez, dancing is as hard as hockey. Can you stop hitting me now?” Jordan acquiesced as he rubbed his arm, “Did you have to get the same spot? I’m playing this Friday!”

I couldn’t help but giggle at how he was acting. He may have been one of the physically biggest guys I’ve ever met and there are times where he acts like a kid.

“We’re here!” Jordan chimed as he cut the engine and we climbed out of the car. The diner was decorated in the ‘50’s style, red and white booths and tables, and waitresses in rollerblades. We seated ourselves, in a booth in the back, and a waitress promptly took our order, we both ordered French toast but I ordered mine with orange juice while Jordan ordered his with chocolate milk, which I had to bite my lip to prevent me from giggling.

“What? A grown man can’t have chocolate milk with his breakfast?” Jordan asked innocently.

“Oh please, since when were you a grown man?” I teased before we both burst out laughing. I don’t know what it was about Jordan but when I was with him, it was like nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter that I just had a potentially life-altering audition yesterday, it didn’t matter that my pas de deux partner had a crush on me, it didn’t matter that the man I came to Pittsburgh for I haven’t even so much as seen. I felt like a kid again, like there wasn’t a care in the world, like the only thing that mattered was the present. Yet at the same time, I could be entirely serious with Jordan, I could tell him anything from how my day went to how I was worried about Babushka’s health. But as close as I was with Jordan, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Jordan about Evgeni. After all, I have only known Jordan for a month and Evgeni was someone so close and personal. Mama and Papa don’t even know about Evgeni and me. Not that they would ever approve of us. It sounds selfish but he was mine, and I didn’t want anyone to take him away from me. And today, today I was closer than ever to having him again, just me and him. Like it used to be.

“Here you go kids,” Sherry, our waitress decked out in a red-striped uniform, a teased up-do and cherry red lips, said as she placed our plates of French toast in front of us, pulling me from my thoughts. “Eat up, just holler if you need anything.”

I eagerly took my first bite of the warm, cinnamon-ey, French toast that was drenched in maple syrup. It was wonderful, and I couldn’t help but smile, not only because of the French toast but of how the day was turning out.

“It’s that good I know,” Jordan says before he takes a long drink of his chocolate milk out of brightly colored green straw. “So how did the audition go?”

“Great, I think it went really well,” I say slowly as I think about my audition.

“Told you it would,” Jordan stated matter of fact-ly.

“Yeah, I guess you were right, I just needed to relax,”

“And things at the apartment? Have they eased up like I’ve predicted?”

I furrowed my brow, “I’m not sure. I mean yesterday, Anna fell as she was coming off stage because she was so weak. Everyone thinks that she was so weak because everything has been so hectic, which it has, and that she just didn’t have the time to eat. But I hate to think I’m the only one who notices her strange eating behavior.”

“Anna was the pushy waitress, right?” Jordan says with his mouth full of French toast.

“Yeah…” I say trailing off.

“Well, I think that you should observe Anna for a little longer, and then see if it really is because of stress from the auditions and the start of performing season. Or if it really is an eating disorder,” Jordan says punctuating his words with his fork before taking the last couple bites of his French toast. “I’m going to go to the bathroom, okay?” Jordan said as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

I nodded again, as he walked away, leaving me to my own devices. I continued to eat my French toast, as I let my mind wander. I couldn’t help but think about how close I was to seeing Evgeni. He would see me and his eyes would widen in both surprise and shock and then he would scoop me up into his arms and hold me tight like we were never separated. I smiled at the warmth that spread from my middle and radiated, everything would be just like it used to be. “You made me love you, I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it. You made me love you and all the time you knew it I guess you always knew it.” The singer on the jukebox sang, she had a voice that was indicative of Old Hollywood. I found myself so completely and utterly focused on the soft melody and the singer’s breathy voice. Suddenly, I see Jordan strolling to the table, hastily shoving a receipt in his pocket as he was whistling the song.

“I knew it! You paid for breakfast, didn’t you?” I exclaimed as I caught him red handed, “We agreed to split this one,”

“Hey, I was just being a gentleman, most girls like that,” Jordan defended, “I don’t see what you’re getting all worked up about, most people be happy that they got a free breakfast,” he grumbled.

“It’s not that, I just don’t want to feel like I owe you anything more. I mean I owe you so much already, showing me around, letting me vent to you,”

“Don’t sweat it Sveta, it’s what friends are for.” Jordan resolved, “Now let’s go, we got a lot of people who have been dieing to meet you. Can’t keep ‘em waiting,”

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled, “I don’t know how you do it, but I can never stay mad at you for long,”

“It’s all part of my charm, babe, now let’s go,” Jordan replied as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we walked out of the restaurant and into his car.

The car radio hummed softly as we drove to “Flower’s place.” I was nervous. Questions were racing through my mind: What if I embarrass myself? What if Jordan’s friends don’t like me? Who the heck is Flower?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jordan asked, taking his eyes off the road to give me a nervous look.

“Ugh,” I groaned as I ran my hands through me hair, “What if they don’t like me? What if I embarrass myself? Who is this Flower guy?”

“These are all ‘What if’s’ you’ll be fine, they’ll love you. Flower’s the nickname we have for our goalie, his real name is Marc-Andre Fleury. So you can see where we got the nickname,”

“Oh, I see,” I say softly, quickly making the connection. I don’t know why but the only time I could compare how I felt now was when Evgeni took me to meet his parents. I was anxious and nervous, I wanted nothing more then to just turn around and go back home. I suddenly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, what if Evgeni didn’t remember me? The doubt clouded my thoughts, as I slipped back into a silence. Nonsense, don’t be foolish, I told myself, no one can forget true love, I tried to reason.

“We’re here,” Jordan said softly, as if not wanting to destroy the fragile silence, while parking his car along the curb. The home was huge, it was larger than nearly all the houses in Magnitogorsk, and our house was quite large, as well. We were the lucky ones.

As we walked to the front door, I noticed that the driveway was filled with cars, all rather expensive looking. “Don’t be nervous, they’re just people,” Jordan said encouragingly, as he knocked on the door.

I merely nodded, taking a deep breath, as I saw the ornate door knob twist and turn.

“Hey, Jordan! Took you long enough, you missed breakfast,” An energetic man, shorter than Jordan but taller than me, spoke with a French accent.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to get food poisoning,” Jordan teased as draped an arm around my shoulder.

“I’d like you to know that Vero thinks my cooking is fantastic,”

“Well, that’s someone you should hang onto,” Jordan replied as we made our way into the spacious foyer, “By the way, this is Svetlana,” he added gesturing to me.

“Ah, you’re the ballerina that Jordan’s been talking about,”

“I hope he hasn’t been saying anything bad about me,” I reply, blushing at the thought of Jordan mentioning me to his friends.

“What? Me? Say anything bad? Nonsense,” Jordan joked, feigning offense. As we walked into the living room, we were greeted by a chorus of yelling and shouting. Jordan removed his arm from around my shoulders to high five and “man hug” his teammates. “Hey guys! This is Svetlana, the ballerina, please make her feel welcome,”

“Hi,” I reply shyly, it felt like the first day at the Company when all I could say was ‘hi.’

“Hi, Svetlana,” The guys chorused in unison.

“Jordan! You made it!” A feminine voice exclaimed from behind us.

“Vero! Don’t tell me you thought I would go back on my word and not come?” Jordan replied to a petite, very beautiful brunette.

“Of course not, is this Svetlana?” Vero, who Jordan identified in the car as “Flower’s girlfriend,” deflected, “You’re prettier than he said you were,”

“Thank you,” I say lowering my head, trying to conceal my blush.

“Jordan, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen so Svetlana can meet the boys,” Vero suggested as she walked into the kitchen.

“What? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Jordan whined, but eventually acquiesced after Vero sent him a sharp look.

I merely nodded as I made my way to the couch, “Hey, Ballerina-chick! Sit with me!” I noticed an effervescent, light brown-haired man nearly yelled. What else could I have done but sat next to him? “I’m Tyler, Tyler Kennedy,” he offered his hand to me and I shook it, “I used to room with Jordan before he got his own place,” he added before giving Jordan the death stare, as he left the room.

“Svetlana, Svetlana Khitrova,”

“Ooh, Russian.” The way he said made it seem like I was an oddity, “We got a few Russians on our team. By the way, where are the Russians?”

“Gonch is out having a “family” day,” A man with raven hair said with a distinct French accent, putting air quotes around family, “I’m Kris, by the way,”

“Hi, Svetlana,”

“Okay so Gonch is with his “family,” Ruslan said he wasn’t gonna make it, so where’s Geno?”
Tyler asked, my heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name.

“Where else? With Tits McGee,” Another teammate responded with dark brown hair, almost black, and pouty, full lips. Once he said this, the whole team groaned.

“Who’s Tits McGee, that’s a rather unfortunate name,” I asked Tyler.

Tyler let out a hearty laugh before sighing, “Tits McGee is our nickname for Geno’s girlfriend, you should see her. She looks like she’s gonna fall over,” Geno’s girlfriend, he had forgotten about me and moved on for some girl who “looks like she’s gonna fall over.”

“That’s so mean,” I couldn’t help but defend.

“Yeah, well she’s so mean,” Tyler retorted with everyone nodding in agreement. I found some comfort in his statement, the fact that everyone hated her gave me a better chance at being with Evgeni.

Soon, the guys wanted to change the mood by playing NHL 10. Eventually the guys became so absorbed by the video game that Kris struck up a conversation with me, seeing that only four people can play at once.



“So what’s going on with you and Svetlana?” Vero asked, as she poured herself a mug of coffee. “You want some?”

“No, I’m fine,” Jordan asked as he took a seat at the breakfast nook, “Nothing, I think,”

“You think?” Vero questioned as she sat across from him.

“Yeah, well it’s like… I’m not sure what it’s like. We’re best friends, I guess.”

“Best friends? So no feelings whatsoever?”

“I don’t know. I have feelings for her, but I’m not sure if they’re necessarily romantic. When I’m with her, I find myself standing up straighter, I’m more thoughtful, I find myself making time for her in my schedule just so I can see her and I text her constantly.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before. But, I don’t want to lose her. I finally have a friend who isn’t in some way, shape or form related to hockey and I don’t feel like I need to talk about hockey when I’m with her. It’s nice you know, my whole life has been hockey and when I’m with Sveta, it just doesn’t matter as much. My life doesn’t seem so centered around hockey. I feel more balanced.”

“Balance… balance is good.”



“Okay, everyone’s wondering. What’s going on with you and Jordan?” Kris suddenly asked, out of the blue.

“N-nothing! We’re just friends. Everyone seems to think that we’re dating but we’re not. It’s completely platonic,” I argued back, maybe too quickly.

“Like I haven’t heard that before,” Kris muttered before changing the subject, “So you’re a ballerina?”

“Yeah, I studied and worked in Russia before going on an exchange-type program to come here. I currently work at the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre,”

“Oh? The team usually goes to the ballet performances “to support the arts”” Kris said adding a bit of sarcasm to the last part of his sentence, “It’s boring as sin,”

“Hey!” I interject, offended by his comment, “It’s only boring because you don’t want to have an open mind and don’t try to pay attention,”

“Come on, you’re just going back and forth on the tips of your toes, pantomiming wildly, with the occasional turn and jump,” Kris argued.

“It’s not just about the steps or the pantomime. Ballet is about so much more. It’s about making art with your body instead of brushes and paint. It’s about taking the audience into a story, into a fantasy, beyond just steps and hand gestures. It’s about emotions and feelings, and you, as the dancer, feel those emotions and convey them to the audience.” I explained, as I tried to explain the ineffable.

“Wow,” was all Kris said as he thought, “How does it feel when you dance?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Freedom, it’s like freedom. Freedom from everyday life and for that one moment I slip into someone else’s life. A life without crazy cab drivers, strict parents, a possibly anorexic roommate, a pas de deux partner who wants to be more than friends, an overly controlling company director, an extremely watchful doorman, an old boyfriend who’s now dating a girl who is so top heavy she might just fall over!” I found myself getting more and more frustrated as I began ranting. Once the last phrase slipped off my tongue, I clamped my hand over my mouth, as if my other secrets would escape.

A look of realization swept over Kris, as his eyes widened, “No! No?” he exclaimed in denial. “You? You and Geno? Geno and you? When? How? Why?” Kris asked getting louder and louder.

“Shhh,” I tried to quiet him down, so not to attract attention from the guys. “Yes, Geno and I. We grew up in the same town together in Russia. I guess we were what you call childhood sweethearts. But, when I had to leave our small city for Moscow to continue ballet, we were only able to write letters to each other. Then, the letters stopped when he came here. That’s actually why I came to Pittsburgh, to find Evgeni.”

Kris’s mouthed formed a large “O.” “It’s like The Notebook and Legends of the Fall mixed in one. If it helps I’ve only known you for an hour and I already like you better than Oksana.”

“Thanks, it kind of does.” Oksana, she’s Russian, I guess some things don’t change, I thought grimly. “Wait, you watched The Notebook and Legends of the Fall?”

“Hey, Legends of the Fall is a war movie, and The Notebook is a delightfully emotional film,”

“Right,” I added, “Yeah and The Wedding Planner is a film that should be taken very seriously.”

“It is!” Kris exclaimed enthusiastically, “Oh you’re being sarcastic,” he added when he realized my tone.



“So you and Geno?” Kris asked again, “I just don’t see it,” he added exasperated.

“What do you mean?” I asked confused about his statement.

“It’s just, I don’t know, something about you and him don’t mesh. Don’t be offended, it’s just that something about the fact that you’re you and he’s him just doesn’t blend together in my head.”

Before I could respond, Vero called us for lunch, yelling “Time for lunch!” from what I assumed was the kitchen.

We all gathered in Marc and Vero’s spacious backyard as we took our seats at the large, wooden, picnic table with a red gingham tablecloth and bowls and platters of food upon the tablecloth. I sat between Kris and Jordan towards the end of the picnic table.

“Now before we all eat, I want to make a toast!” Sidney said, rising from seat, raising his red plastic cup filled with ice tea.

“Toast!” Everyone chorused in return, raising their glasses.

“To the start of a great season and winning the Stanley Cup!” Sidney exclaimed before taking a long drink.

“The start of a great season and winning the Stanley Cup!” We chorused back as we all drank from our cups.

“Let’s eat!” Sidney said proudly as he sat back down. I filled my plate with salad and a portion of grilled chicken.

“Where’s Geno?” Jordan asked innocently, as he took a bite of his hotdog, which was met with a collective sigh from everyone at the table, including me. “What?” he asked confused.

“He’s apparently with this girl named Tits McGee,” I said softly.

Jordan merely shook his head as her rubbed his temples and sighed, “Oh Geno, what has she done to you? You could so much better,” he murmured more to himself than to anyone else in particular.



“You should come to our game,” Kris suggested casually as he ate.

“Sure that sounds fun, when does the season start? Not till October right?” I made mental calculations, today was September 19, meaning September 21nd we learn our roles for the Showcase, giving us less than a month to learn and perfect our routines. Then after the Showcase, which takes place October 9-11, we learn our roles for The Nutcracker and that gives till December 19 to learn and perfect our parts for the show. The schedule was packed and I would have to be practicing and rehearsing for all day and logging several extra hours in the studio. I honestly wasn’t sure if I had to time to see them play.

“Well, technically we start the season in Sweden, playing our first two games against the Senators in the beginning of October, then the actual games in North America start on October 11th,” Kris said.

“The 11th? I’m performing on the 11th,” I say fraught with disappointment, both from the fact that I won’t be able to see them nor will they be able to see me.

“Is that the only day?” Jordan interjected.

“No, thank goodness, I’m also performing on the 9th and 10th.”

“Good, I don’t know about them but I’ll watch you perform on the 9th and 10th, as long as you come and watch me smack the Flyers on the 14th,” Jordan said as he pumped his fist in to the air with pride.

I laughed, “Deal, I’ll definitely watch you guys play the Flyers, if you guys watch me dance.”

“Smack, you are going to watch us ‘smack’ the Flyers,” Jordan corrected teasingly.

“Right, I’m going to watch you smack the Flyers,” I said between my laughter.

“And I’m gonna watch you kill at you’re dance recital,” Jordan said.

“We, we’re gonna watch you kill at you’re dance recital,” Kris corrected jokingly.

“Hey! Look who decided to take time out of their day and come all the way here!” Marc said laughing, as he got up from his seat at the head of the table, to greet the two people approaching us.

It was him. It had to be him, he was wearing a plain pair of khaki shorts and a white, casual button up with sunglasses covering his chocolate eyes. It was Evgeni.
“Ugh, there she is, the ice queen herself, Tits McGee,” Kris groaned low enough that only those at the table could hear.

I looked at the woman following closely to Evgeni and she clung to him whenever possible. She was an ice blonde, or at least a dyed blonde, with tanned skin, that looked so tan it was almost orange, and pouty lips, that looked puffy with too much collagen. Her bleach blonde hair fell straight down her back to end just past her breastbone. Her blue eyes, which seemed too blue and too cold to be even real, were slightly obscured by her long bangs that grazed her eyelashes and were parted in the middle. Her orange halter top with a low V-neck, white Capri shorts and she wore high heeled sandals. With a white leather bag hanging off her arm with a Coach logo stamped onto the bag, her overall outfit looked too fancy and revealing to be appropriate for a barbeque and she indeed seemed to be falling over.

“Apparently, they met while Geno was still in Russia in a nightclub. She was still married to this rich businessman, and she got a divorce from her husband to be with Geno. Supposedly, she had to wait 9 months before she could come and they stayed in touch with emails and letters. Geno moved out of Gonch’s place into a place of his own, so now she lives with him ‘because he’s so lonely without me.’ That’s a load of bull!” Jordan whispered in my ear, explaining the back story. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster, my cheeks flamed to a scarlet, as I thought of Evgeni and her in Russia, I imagined Evgeni writing her letters instead of writing me letters, I felt embarrassed and angry, but most of all I was heartbroken. The one man who I’ve loved more than anything, the one man who I’ve given everything, the one man was my everything.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kris whispered, “Screw her, screw him, we all like you better than her anyways.”

“Thanks,” I whispered back as I nodded and blinked away the tears I didn’t know had formed.

“Geno, Oksana come eat, I don’t think you’ve met Jordan’s friend, Svetlana, yet?” Marc said. I lifted my head in response to hearing my name, which I instantly regretted because the instant I looked up, I looked up into his eyes. They were as warm as ever, and still chocolate brown, gone was the innocence of youth but replaced by knowing, a spark of maturity that I did not recognize. His eyes flashed with surprise as he instantly recognized me.

I was determined not be shaken by him, “Hi, I’m Svetlana, Jordan’s friend,” I said with determination, the determination not to be rattled by him, as I extended my hand towards him.

He shook my hand, his touch sent electricity up my arm, giving me goosebumps, “Evgeni, but everyone calls me Geno, Jordan’s teammate,” he said through his choppy English. But as our hands touched and our fingers inertwined, I found myself falling for him again, his voice was soft, almost pleading. His smile made me forgot why I was so angry. I may not have been angry but I was still heartbroken.

“I’m Oksana, Oksana Kondakova,” the ice blonde interrupted, with her shrill voice, as she extended her hand, “I’m Geno’s girlfriend,” she said as if she was bragging. I shook her hand noticing how bony her arms were and how thin she was overall despite her large breasts, she looked like Barbie.

The two of them sat in the empty space across from us as they filled their plates, “I though you weren’t going to come,” Sydney said while glaring daggers at Oksana.

“We weren’t, but the season’s starting in a few weeks and there won’t be a time where we can relax as a team for a long time,” Evgeni responded through full mouths of food.

“So, Jordan, you jumped onto the Russian bandwagon, picked yourself up a Russian girlfriend, too,” Oksana cooed as she stroked Evgeni’s arm. I didn’t like that she said “picked up” like I was picked from a catalogue.

I could see Jordan ball his hands into fists underneath the table so hard his knuckles were turning white. With his eyes narrowing at her, I touched his arm trying to calm him down, “It’s okay, just correct her, don’t make a scene,” I whispered.

“Well, you know once you go Russian, you don’t go back,” Oksana said winking at me, as she laid her head on Evgeni’s shoulder. I’m sure she meant it as a compliment but her tone and wink made it seem as if she was implying that I was a slut.

“Actually we’re not together,” Jordan said as calmly as possible, “We’re just friends,” almost hissing the last part and if looks could kill, Oksana would have been dead several times over with the glares Jordan and the rest of the team were giving her.

“Oh,” Oksana sighed, “That’s much too bad, for you I mean, not you, Jordan,” Oksana added with a smile as she turned her icy blue eyes my way.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked frigidly with an edge in my voice I didn’t know existed.

“Nothing, it’s just that Jordan’s famous and you’re, well, not,”

“Not everyone’s a money who-” Vero interrupted before being interrupted herself.

“Well, I’ll let you know that Sveta here is a dancer for the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre and she used to dance at this little ballet company in Russia, what was it called?” Jordan asked pretending to think.

“Something with a ‘B,’” Kris said as he also pretended to think, “Ah, I know the Bolshoi!”

“Oh right, the Bolshoi, have you heard of it?” Jordan said smugly. The smirk on Jordan’s face as Oksana scowled was priceless.

“That’s good for you, Svetlana,” was all she said through gritted teeth.

“Hey, Svetlana can you help me wash the dishes?” Vero asked politely, clearly sensing the mounting tension.

“Oh sure, anything to help,” I respond as I get up from the table, picking up the empty plates.

“See you inside?” Jordan asked.

“Of course,” I answered as I followed Vero into the kitchen.



“You wash, I dry,” Vero said quickly as she placed a stack of dirty dished in the sink. I quickly set to work on the dishes.

“So you and Jordan?” Vero asked as she dried the dishes that I had just washed.

“What about Jordan and me?” I asked trying to shrug off the feeling of déjà vu.

“Well, everyone wants to know. Are you two a couple?” she clarified as she stacked the dried dishes in a cabinet.

“No,” I respond calmly while my mind was running wild with what Jordan could have said to Vero, “We’re just friends. Why did Jordan say we were?”

“No, he said you guys were just friends. Everyone has just been really curious about you guys, we haven’t seen Jordan like this with another girl before,”

“Really? He’s such a sweet guy,” I try to answer nonchalantly.

“He is, it’s just he’s just such a playboy. He doesn’t hold onto a girl long enough to be serious enough that he wants her to meet us.”

“Oh,” I reply as I try to hide my disappointment, “What do you think Oksana?” I ask trying to change the subject.

“What’s not to like?” Vero said dripping with sarcasm, “I mean not only is she totally fake but she’s totally a bitch, too. Don’t tell me you like her?”

I laughed, “No, not at all,”

“Good, I thought you two might have this Russian thing going,”

“No way, she's way too clingy and abrasive,”

“That’s being generous,” Vero joked as we both finished up washing and cleaning the dishes. We sat down at the breakfast nook, “You seem like a good girl and I hate to see you get hurt, but Kris told me about you and Geno,”

I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair, “How much did he say?” I was surprisingly not mad at Kris for betraying my secret but was slightly relieved. It was like a weight lifted off my chest, there was one less person to have to hide my feelings for Evgeni from.

“That you two were childhood sweethearts and that when you left for the Bolshoi you guys wrote letters to each other, then a little before he came here he stopped writing to you, which I’m assuming is when he met Oksana. Then you came here to find him and hopefully rekindle your love but you find him the Ice Queen instead.”

“So he basically told you everything,” I groaned, “I must sound so silly, so naïve.”

“No, you sound like you’re in love,” Vero reassured, “You can still get him back, how can he not love you after you’ve been together for so long. Besides you’re way better than the Wicked Witch of the East.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

“No, thank you, it’s been so great to actually talk to a girl, you know? We should get together more often. You wanna go to the mall sometime?”

“I’d love to go shopping with you. It’s weird, I’ve been living in a dormitory with girls as roommates for about 4 years, but it’s been a while since I’ve had girl talk.”

“Why?” Vero asked puzzled.

“When you’re at the professional and the pre-professional level, everyone is so focused on their dance. It’s so competitive among the female dancers that we don’t really create friendships, it’s sad but true,” I say reminiscing about my days at the Vaganova and Bolshoi, “This is like the first time I had friends outside of dance. It’s nice, it’s more balanced and peaceful,”

Vero made a weird face and chuckled, “This is so déjà vu. That is exactly what Jordan said,”

“What the part about not having girl talks?”

“No, the part about having friends outside of dance- for Jordan it was hockey, of course,- and it being more balanced and peaceful. You guys are like made for each other or something,” Vero said laughing and eventually I started laughing too.

“Yeah, maybe we are,” I agreed.