Chapter 7
I woke up to the sound of Claus taking a shower. The rest of the world seemed still and absolutely quiet.
My left arm was uncovered, and my gaze went straight to the ring-less finger that mocked me with its small indentation. I love you, but… How long would it take for the engagement ring mark to disappear? A week? A month? It would mock me until then. I had failed miserably.
As I turned to the window, my eyes adjusted slowly to the midmorning sun that streamed in, making my bedroom unusually bright. Outside, wet treetops and rooftops glistened. I covered my head with the blanket and remembered with a sigh the conversation from the previous night.
It would have been a different equation.
Why did I care? I shook my head. Why. Did. I. Care?
You gave him all he wanted. Of course he ran.
I needed coffee, but how could I make myself presentable without going into my bathroom? And I needed a shower too.
He turned off the water.
My breaths came suddenly hard and short. Was having Claus near me a good idea or a bad one? The shower curtain opened, then closed.
Looking at the bathroom door, I pulled the blanket tighter around me. He fumbled with the handle. Please be dressed. I kept one eye open, my face scrunched up.
He opened the door slowly, wearing only a towel around his waist. The smell of soap and thick vapor spilled out of the bathroom after him. “Good morning.” His right hand went up to the side of his face like a horse’s blinder, and he hurried toward the living room.
“Good morning.” My hair was flat against my head and felt oily. My skin was dry. Surely I was a sight. Some beauty sleep. But he hadn’t looked, as promised.
I eased my way out of bed and tiptoed to the door. “I’m going to take a shower.” I hid by the door waiting for an answer.
He didn’t answer.
“Make yourself at home,” I said a little louder. Had he heard me?
“Okay.” His voice was upbeat. I remembered him as a morning person— he’d definitely not changed much.
It sounded like he was in the kitchen. Maybe he would make some coffee for us.
I broke into the Crabtree & Evelyn Nantucket Briar soap and lotion set I got at the company’s Christmas party last year and breathed in. The soft powdery fragrance was perfect.
After a slow shower, I put on the lotion, combed my hair, and applied light-pink gloss, eyeliner, and mascara.
I dressed in a new sky-blue romper and chose a pair of simple champagne pearl earrings that complemented the look. Checking the mirror before walking out of the bathroom, I felt good. Not too much. Just right.
As I got near the kitchen, I smelled the fresh coffee and saw that Claus had the small kitchen table ready for breakfast.
A bouquet of white lilies my parents had given me after Saturday’s performance graced the rustic table. Next to it, Polish pottery dishes intricately patterned with blue butterflies, large yellow flowers, and tiny orange daisies held ham, cheese, big chunks of honeydew mixed with plump blueberries and neatly arranged croissants, butter, and jellies.
But where was he?
I found him by the speaker dock, his iPod queuing to play something. He’d already moved the coffee table off the white shag rug, creating an improvised dance floor. What was he up to?
He pushed the play button before I could tell him I needed to take Barysh out and feed him. Soon the first notes of OneRepublic’s “Come Home” filled the space between us. The piano was slow and strong.
“Dance with me, Ana.” Claus walked to the middle of the rug and held out his hand.
He wore a snug black tank top and dark jeans. He was barefoot like me. A corner of his mouth lifted, and his blue eyes gleamed. Perfect posture. How could he be so beautiful? I took in the sight of him. Claus Vogel Gert. The Claus Vogel Gert. In my apartment.
His thick blond hair was almost dry, and a lock on his forehead invited a caress. He drew one side of his lower lip between his teeth. Oh, how I wanted to kiss and tease those lips.
“Yes? Will you dance with me?” He lifted his hand a little higher.
Looking down to hide the heat in my cheeks, I took a deep breath—no kennel smell, just good smells of coffee, bread, and my soap. Would Barysh make it through the song? Hang in there, bud—one for the team.
I walked to Claus, a big smile stretching my lips. The softness of the rug added to the dreamlike quality of the moment. My hand reached out to meet his, and I noticed goosebumps on his forearm. My fingers brushed the skin of his hand to find the perfect fit. I love you.
He pulled me near, kissing my fingertips, then my hand, his lips warm and soft. Slow dancing, he looked at me with misty eyes darkened by his black shirt.
My eyes gazed into his. I love you—I always have.
I felt his fingers applying gentle pressure on the small of my back, moving our hips closer together until no space remained between us. Resting his cheek against mine, he whispered sweet lyrics in my ear, his breath caressing my skin with every sentence.
What would it be like to have his lips and breath on my body again? My unsteady hands held him tighter, and my heart beat to the rhythm of his words. Should I be doing this? I gave him… He ran… I can’t go through that again. I can’t do anything that will make him leave me.
His lips brushed mine. I don’t know what to do. I didn’t respond.
“Sorry.” He put some space between us.
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to freeze on you. Don’t be sorry.” I don’t know how to change—I don’t think I can. Some people were good at guarding their heart, but not me. I teased his lips with mine before kissing him softly. This is who I am. This is what I do.
He pulled back and looked at me one more time before losing himself in long, deep kisses.
“Ich liebe dich,” he whispered, picking me up in his arms.
“I love you too.” I felt like unsettled Jell-O melting through his fingers.
He smiled and rocked me to the music. “Come to Germany with me, Ana.” His voice was casual, as if he’d just asked me to follow him to the market or some other place around the corner.
“I can’t go to Germany.” I chuckled. He couldn’t possibly be serious.
“We could live together, dance together, travel.” His voice trailed off as he put me down, and, holding my head with both his hands, he searched for an answer in my eyes. “Come home with me.”
“Come home?” I echoed in a whisper. “But that’s absurd…”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just is.”
He put his arms around me, swaying to the music. “Come home, Ana. We belong together.”
Home? I kept my eyes closed and felt Claus’s fingertips caress my neck. Being with him was certainly home. Peter didn’t understand me like Claus did. Only a dancer could really understand another dancer—the emotions, the soul, the passion for the art form.
“Come with me, Ana.”
There wasn’t much left for me in Georgia. A ruined relationship and a company at which I’d been too long and where there was little hope of progression now.
If I didn’t go with Claus, I could still audition in Atlanta.
But without Peter by my side, the idea seemed dull.
Germany? Move?
“What about my things?” I opened my eyes in a daze.
“Bring them. Leave them. Up to you.”
“But my car … and Barysh?”
“We will ship the car. We will bring Barysh.”
I couldn’t believe I was even considering this. It was the wrong answer. Peter could still change his mind.
Claus looked into my eyes again. “Didn’t you say Barysh was abandoned because his old family didn’t want to take him to Germany?”
“Yes…” Where was he going with that?
“Do it for him then. He’s a sweet dog, yes? Let him see Germany.”
I had to laugh. “Like you care. Look at you being all sly.”
“I do care.”
“Oh yeah?” I walked toward my old dog and was about to say Claus hadn’t thought about him and his needs since waking up when I noticed Barysh had a fresh pad, fresh water, and was sleeping peacefully.
When I looked back at Claus, he was smirking. “He ate and he’s clean. I even took him to the balcony to air out.”
“Touché,” I said teary eyed. “You didn’t have to…” I looked out the window and took a deep breath.
A white heron stood on the bank of the rain-swollen river, looking in the direction of the submerged rocks where he normally stood.
Germany, huh? I watched the water flowing—voluminous and fast.
It was an illusion to think I could get Peter back. Much like the heron, I had lost my rock. My life with Peter was over—washed away, out of my control, by waters more powerful than me.
Like the heron, why not look for a new safe place to stand?