Chapter 19
I want to go to Columbus for classes.” I looked at the chickadees and warblers outside Mom’s kitchen window and remembered the pain of the last time I’d sat at that table.
What I really wanted was for Lorie to see us, together and happy. And engaged. She had to know that her efforts to ruin my life had amounted to nothing. But Claus did not need to hear that.
Dad was home from the hospital. He was upset about not being able to golf and complained about the diet the doctor had prescribed, but otherwise he was okay. What could have been fatal wasn’t.
“We should go to Atlanta for classes. You need to be challenged. Falling back into your old routine in Columbus will accomplish nothing.”
“What I need is to hang out with people I know.” But Claus was being as stubborn about Atlanta as I was being stubborn about Columbus.
“What you need is to keep your eye on the ball. Isn’t that how you say it in America?” He raised an eyebrow. “You have a major audition for a major company, and you’ve made major progress. Don’t slow down now. Let’s go to Atlanta and take classes where you won’t lose any momentum.”
“But I want to go to Columbus and see everyone. That’s my studio. My people.”
Claus shook his head. “Isn’t there a school here?”
“Oh, and a school in Pine Mountain would challenge me more than a company class in Columbus? You’re not making any sense.”
He walked quietly to Mom’s kitchen window. What was the big deal? I thought he liked Columbus. “There may be a fairies and princesses class down at the Y.” I tried to stay serious, but the idea of showing up at a school where the average age was six had me smirking behind his back.
“Would I be the fairy or the princess?” We both burst into laughter at that.
It was good to hear him laugh. He’d had me concerned for a moment. “How about this: two classes in Columbus and two in Atlanta. And then we will be on our way back to Germany.”
He looked worried again. “Fine, Ana. But it’s a mistake, huh?”
The Allen Ballet had danced Don Quixote the previous month. Next was a mixed bill in late-October. They were doing Les Sylphides, the Sylvia pas de deux, Benjamin Millepied’s Closer, and Nacho Duato’s Arcangelo. Brian had wanted to add a fifth piece but hadn’t found the right thing.
“You guys should stick around and do your balcony scene,” he said.
“I wish we could, and I wish I could dance Archangelo too,” I said. “I love that ballet. I’m officially jealous.”
Maybe after class I would mention the audition. For now, I just wanted to get changed and do a little stretching. And see Lorie.
I peeked into the bright dressing room.
She was in the same area she’d claimed a decade ago when we’d started dancing at the Allen Ballet—the last locker on the right, by the showers.
I glanced at my old locker, opposite hers. It didn’t look like anyone had taken it yet. The door was open like I’d left it. A small image of the Met entrance, seen from Lincoln Center Plaza, still decorated the inside of the tall metal door. I’d printed it for that purpose, soon after my first trip to Germany. The five concrete arches and tall glass façade were lit up by the famous sputnik chandeliers in the grand lobby. It was beautiful.
I’d left the image behind, hoping it would inspire someone new to dream big. I was already on my way there. I didn’t need it anymore.
But the image didn’t seem to be inspiring anyone at the moment. It looked sad and lonely—abandoned.
The thought of taking it down crossed my mind, but maybe one day it would still mean something for someone at the Allen Ballet. It should stay.
Lorie was putting her long blonde hair up into a bun and was surrounded by the youngest girls in the corps—teenagers all. They were chatting about last week’s performances.
“Did you read our wonderful Don Quixote reviews?” Lorie’s exaggerated Southern drawl couldn’t be more annoying.
“I sure did,” the thinnest of them all volunteered. “They love you, Lorie. If I remember correctly, the word ‘perfection’ was used to describe the wedding pas.”
“Oh, it’s easy to look good with the perfect partner.” Lorie sure had changed. “Daniel is the best partner I’ve ever had—better than Claus Gert and way more gorgeous.”
Oh, whatever. Sure he is. Daniel was a good dancer and a sweet guy, bless him. But his technique was nowhere near Claus’s. And he looked like a mouse—a skinny mouse, with skinny facial features and skinny little legs.
I’d heard enough. Where were all the normal people? I backed out of the dressing room and changed in the hallway bathroom.
Claus had been right. The idea of taking classes in Columbus had been a mistake.
By the time Claus came in, I had a spot behind Lorie at the barre and was stretching. He shook his head when he saw me.
What? My heart pounded so hard, I felt the beats in my head. I’d never plotted revenge of any kind before, but I’d never been intentionally hurt before either. There had to be consequences for what Lorie did to me and to Peter.
Claus walked over to Daniel, the mouse, who was at one of the center barres. They chatted for a while, and Claus ended up staying there when Brian started the class.
He was too far from me. But now wasn’t the time for a display of discontentment.
After doing our first warm-up exercise to the right, it was time to turn around and repeat the combination to the other side. My left hand was now free to dance, and Lorie was free to watch it.
The first wave of jealous energy came with the very first port de bras.
Mission complete.
When our work at the barre was over, I stretched with Claus.
“Why did you have to be so far away?” I adjusted my shoes.
“You wanted to be with your people.” He touched my cheek and then wiped off the sweat from under my eyes. “I was giving you space.”
“I don’t need space. I just wanted to be here.”
Brian marked a simple tendu, thus continuing the class.
“I should have sent you to Germany a long time ago.” He walked past me during the pirouette part of the combination. “You look amazing.”
The class was turning out to be one of the best I’d ever had at the Allen Ballet. I really had improved a lot. More turns, bigger jumps, sharper movements. More confidence—at long last. Germany had indeed been a great idea.
After class, I talked to Brian about my upcoming audition in Wiesbaden and about the new choreography. We promised to come back the following day, bring the music, and show Praha to him.
But I wasn’t sure I really wanted to. Showing off to Lorie had brought less joy than I’d expected, and I couldn’t help but feel small and infantile. My peace and happiness had been shaken, and it had been my fault.
I squeezed Claus’s hand on the way to the elevators and was happy that home was far away from the Allen Ballet. “Do you want to dance in Atlanta tomorrow?”
“Yes.” He dropped his head hard, like a tired soldier declared victorious at last, after a long and exhausting battle.
“I’ll call Brian later and explain.”
As we left the company building, I was surprised to see Lorie standing outside next to a parking meter.
“Ana, I just want to say I’m sorry for all the things that happened earlier this year.” A corner of her mouth lifted.
Since when did people apologize with a smile on their face?
“Let’s just go.” Claus grabbed my hand and led me away.
“I saw the ring,” she said above the street noise. “Congratulations. I’m glad you were able to forgive Claus.”
Turning around, I saw her mischievous grin and icy blue eyes confirming she had one-upped me—again.
Claus was staring at the sidewalk. That couldn’t be good. Why would I need to forgive him? He’d said he didn’t know Peter was at the theater when he kissed me after the Romeo and Juliet dress rehearsal.
Was he going to say something? It had to be something else. Something less grave. Something unrelated to that painful chapter of my life—the one I thought I’d just closed forever. It had to be something else.
A car alarm went off. A woman helped a man cross the street. A little girl ran ahead of her father. “Don’t you let go of my hand,” he said, crouching down to her level when he caught up with her—stubborn little fingers still squirming under his massive hand. The alarm stopped. The little girl let her father hold her hand.
Claus was still staring at the sidewalk.
It couldn’t be. Mom’s suspicions came to mind, distant now, but still very clear. I wonder if Claus was somehow involved in Lorie’s plot. How else would she have known something was going to happen between you two on that stage that night?
He would never do that. It couldn’t be. “I’m waiting. Y’all better start talking.”
“I thought you were making a big mistake in moving to Pine Mountain,” Lorie said. “I already told you that—the day you beat me up.”
“I didn’t beat you up.”
“You beat her up?” Claus looked up at last.
“What do you think?” Surely we’d successfully established Lorie can’t be trusted.
“I knew you would end up quitting the company.” Lorie raised her chin. “I wanted you to stay, so I told Claus you were blind in love, and that Peter was forcing you to stop dancing to move to the ranch.” She giggled and shook her head. “And Claus came to your rescue. He knew Peter was in the audience when he kissed you. He wanted your engagement to be over. He wanted you for himself, and he didn’t care what he had to do to make it happen.”
Claus marched toward Lorie and held her by both arms. I’d never seen that kind of intensity in his walk or in his eyes, but she didn’t flinch.
People walking past started to stare. A man about my dad’s age wearing a nice gray suit slowed down.
Lorie’s eyes were wide, but she was still grinning—leaning into him— provoking him.
The man who’d slowed down walked away.
How could Claus have lied to me like that? I covered my mouth with shaky fingers. And for all those months? My heart raced, and I was dizzy.
No one talked. The three of us were paused in time while all around us life went on. Cars passed. People passed. A cool breeze caressed late-summer leaves, large and deep green, baked by months of Georgia heat. By this time next month, they would be dried up. With the right wind or storm, they could be gone.
When Claus let go of Lorie’s arms, red impressions from each of his fingers had stayed on the pale skin. She didn’t move.
Claus grabbed my hand and led me away, but the distance didn’t stop her words. I could still hear her voice, muffled and dreamlike. “He knew everything, Ana, everything.”
I shook my head, realizing we’d already crossed the street, leaving behind the company building, and had reached the theater where we’d danced Romeo and Juliet.
How had we walked so fast? I looked for Lorie on the other side of Tenth Street, but she was gone.
We reached the same marquee where I’d sat seven months earlier ashamed, scared, and lost. So humiliated. It all played back through my mind. Peter’s tears, my desperation, my fear, my uncertainty…
And it was all Claus’s fault. Everything—he knew everything. It had to be a mistake. There had to be a different explanation. He loved me. He couldn’t— wouldn’t—do that to me.
“It’s not true, is it, Claus?” I asked, stopping. “Please tell me it isn’t true.” I shook his hand up and down, setting his whole arm in motion.
He nodded and embraced me, stopping me from shaking him.
“It is true?”
He nodded again.
Like a volcano that had been dormant too long and was now ready to inflict damage, I erupted. I pushed him hard against the marquee. “Why?” I hit his chest with both my fists.
He grabbed both my wrists. “You’re going to beat me up too?”
“Answer my question.” My voice came out distorted.
He held my hands over his heart against my will. “I’d been thinking about looking for you. I called my friends in Atlanta and scheduled a visit to talk about dancing in the States again.”
His eyes searched mine. I didn’t like his intensity any more than I liked his actions and his lies.
He took a deep breath, keeping my hands over his heart. I stopped fighting his intent, but I was as angry as before. My anger had simply taken on a different form. Its lava flow now ran slowly through the hollow scars and wrinkles of our relationship, covering the entire landscape with deadly heat.
When he finally spoke again, his eyes were gentle. “I’d contacted the Allen Ballet, and Brian asked if I wanted to dance Romeo and Juliet with you.”
I shook my head. What a disaster. Why did that have to happen? Why did he have to call, and why did Brian have to offer me up like that?
Claus smiled and shrugged. “I thought that was a sign—a sign that I’d done my time—that I’d suffered enough and that it was time to be happy again.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted a salty tear that had found its way to my lips. I used the sleeve of my hoodie to dry my face.
Claus lifted my chin. “I was heartbroken when I realized you were engaged.” He looked at me as if trying to read my response. “I asked Lorie about your fiancé. I remembered you and Lorie were friends, so I figured she would know about it.”
“She was my friend when I was seventeen.” I sat on the edge of an oversized cement planter and held my head in both hands.
“I know now that talking to her was a mistake, but at the time it seemed smart.” He sat next to me. “She told me you really loved the guy, but that he didn’t want you to dance and that you were going to quit. That made me mad, Ana. No one should tell a dancer when to quit.”
“Claus, in what world does it seem possible for some guy to tell me what to do and what not to do?” I lifted my head and looked at him sharply. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I hadn’t seen you in a decade. People change. They become more accommodating.” His cheeks, his lips, and even his eyes seemed to droop. His shoulders dropped, and when he continued, his voice was hardly above a whisper. “You are a lot sweeter than you give yourself credit for.”
“I don’t have a single accommodating bone in my body,” I said with my eyes closed. “Or a sweet one for that matter. Just continue. Lorie told you about Peter—lies—and then what happened?”
“Lorie came up with the plot.” He fidgeted and his cheeks flushed. “I thought it was a bit much for her to tell him that we’d been sleeping together, but she said that, knowing you two, it was necessary.”
“And then you proceeded to frame me?”
“It was a mistake, Ana. That first day we went to Rüdesheim, I realized Lorie had lied to me. I really thought Peter was going to make you quit.”
That was so ridiculous. I shook my head hard. Could I just wake up from this nightmare?
Claus stood and looked like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He crouched down in front of me instead and caressed my hands, his hands warm.
I was so cold and so lonely.
Again.
He touched my engagement ring, his smile tender. “I carried this ring around for months. I almost proposed at the park one day. Then at Di Gregorio. Then I almost proposed on the Natal in Prague. Then at the Charles Bridge.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, remembering the other couple on the bridge and remembering how cheap I’d felt listening to the “Habanera” and being presented with garnet earrings instead of a diamond ring. I’d wanted a proposal so much.
“I didn’t feel that I had the right. What I did here weighed heavy on my heart, Ana. Still does.” He rested his cheek on my hands. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I should never have done it.”
My head bobbed in slow motion, and we were silent. Staying with Claus was not an option. I couldn’t forgive him. He’d ruined everything. Sure, I’d been happy for the past seven months. Sure, I’d built new dreams—a new path to the stage of the Met. But it was all a lie. He’d lied. He’d framed me. How could that be?
“We can’t build a life together on a lie.” My breaths quickened. “We can’t build a life on hurt.”
“Just understand that I did it in good faith, out of love. Can you do that, Ana?”
“Just understand?” I couldn’t ‘just understand.’
“Please, Ana.”
I have to do this—there’s no other way. “I hope you can ‘just understand’ this, Claus.” I removed my engagement ring.
“Ana, no,” he mouthed without a sound.
“I’m sorry about everything too.” I put the ring on the palm of his hand and closed his fingers over it. Part of me pitied him. Lorie had had him good—she’d played each and every one of us. But I couldn’t continue with Claus after all he’d done.
“I’m sorry Lorie lied to you, and I’m really sorry that you believed her. But no matter the reasons she gave you, it was wrong to do what you did. I can’t be with you, no matter how much I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to my mom. And I’m sorry I moved to Germany…” And I’m sorry I slept with you—again. Please God, let me not be pregnant.
He closed his eyes—easing the tension of the lids just long enough to free his shapeless tears.
Traffic grew louder as rush hour started. “We need to get going.” I inhaled hard and started walking, knowing he would follow.
We reached Dad’s SUV, and I got into the driver’s side, bringing the seat closer to the pedals and adjusting the rearview mirror.
“Where are we going?” Claus asked in a monotone.
“To Peter’s house.” I turned on the radio and looked for my old country station. “You’ll tell him the truth. And then you’ll go home.” I couldn’t find the station, so I switched to CD.
Willie Nelson started singing “Stardust.” I shook my head. No music would be best. I turned the player off and pulled out of the parking lot in silence.
We crawled past a dozen traffic lights and were finally on our way out of town.
Claus broke the silence. “How about the audition and Praha?” he asked, looking out his window. “The Met?”
“You can dance Praha with Luci. It would make her day. Or Ekaterina. Would make her day too. She should be back from her stint in Berlin in time for The Nutcracker, right? Everything goes back to normal. Jakob can have his beloved prima ballerina back, and she can have you back. And forget about the Met.” It had been a ridiculous dream—like my whole ridiculous life. I hit the steering wheel with my fist and merged onto the highway.
I looked at the horizon, and melancholy replaced anger much faster than I could fight it.
In addition to the truth about Claus’s involvement in the events surrounding the Romeo and Juliet dress rehearsal, another truth broke my heart so badly that it felt like rosin dust—a few scraps and chunks remained, but it was mostly all dust.
If I can’t pass an audition in Wiesbaden without Claus’s help, I won’t be able to pass an audition in Atlanta on my own merit either.
I nodded in silence. No more.
“No more.” I shook my head. “I’ll be busy getting a real life.”
Claus looked at me. “No more what? What do you mean? You have a real life.”
“I don’t want to dance anymore,” I heard myself say—only mildly surprised at the words rolling out of my mouth. “This is just too exhausting.”
His lips parted and his expression dulled.
As I focused on the road ahead, a single teardrop trickled down my left cheek, a teardrop that was years in the making, slow and steady, like the door that was closing in my heart. “I’m done. Done dancing, done with you, done with everything.”
No more. I remembered the Met picture from the locker room, Lorie boasting… I shook my head. No more.
Should have taken the picture down. Should have ripped it, burned it, whatever. Should have gotten rid of it. Stupid dream.
Time to close those heavy curtains. No more.