Amour Amour (42 page)

“I’m auditioning for Aerial Ethereal’s open positions.”

So many mixed emotions assault me at once. I don’t know what I feel. “Shay…”

Nikoli runs his hands through his hair, frustrated that he can’t hear everything. Or maybe he can hear. I’m not sure of anything anymore.

“I know it’s hypocritical of me,” he says. “I’ve been bashing you about it all year, but I’ve been to
five
job interviews and I hate every single one of them.” He takes a deep breath. “You know, I graduated two weeks ago, and I can’t see myself doing anything but what I’ve been doing. It sucks.” I hear the sound of a rubber bouncy ball, hitting the floor. “And then I thought about you and Aerial Ethereal. I don’t know…it seems like a better life.”

I imagine Shay with me, in the circus. My lips rise, but another pain forms inside my stomach. If we both land contracts for Somnio, I may be able to perform alongside Shay, but it means leaving Nikolai behind in Vegas. Bittersweet isn’t even the right feeling.

It just hurts.

“Thora?” His voice leaks concern. “You know I’m sorry, about giving you a hard time. Hey, there’s a good chance I may not even make it.”

But he’s more hopeful for himself than he ever was for me. Because he’s more talented. “I hope you make it,” I say, trying to stay positive.

“Yeah?”

Nikolai shifts, slightly turning his back to me. He rubs his unshaven jaw and glares at the tree trunk.

Blocking out my own involvement, I want my friend to be happy. I just wish there wasn’t pain attached to that desire. “Definitely.”

There’s a short pause, the silence filled with thuds against the wall. I can tell there’s more. “When I see you,” he begins, “I promise to not start anything with your friend.”

“Boyfriend,” I correct.

Nikolai rotates slowly, facing me again. His features are still harsh, strict cuts that he usually wears for his siblings or in the gym.

I hear the squeak of bed springs as Shay plops down. “Whatever he is, I’m going to try to be nice to him for you.”

That’s better than nothing. “I hope so.”

And then he says, “Be safe, okay?”

I smile, a weaker one than usual. “Be happy, alright?”

A moment passes. “I will be,” he says softly. And we hang up at the same time.

I pocket the phone, and Nikolai exhales a deep, tense breath, his muscles flexed in his arms and shoulders. And I mutter, “He’s auditioning in January.”

Nikolai rolls his eyes and he shakes his head repeatedly like this has to be some big joke.

“He said he’d be nice—”

“I don’t care what he is.” He lets out a short laugh, his face going through those series of mixed emotions, reflecting what I felt. And then he turns around. With a lengthy, incensed stride, he heads towards Katya.

I run to catch up to him, clasping his wrist. “Nikolai—”

“Nik!” Katya shouts, sprinting up to us. “We found it!” She wipes her reddened nose with her gloved hand. She looks between us for a moment, and her smile begins to fade.

I drop Nikolai’s wrist.

Nik tells her, “Let’s see it then.”

She brushes our expressions under the rug, the way we do, and takes both of our hands, pulling us in the direction of the Christmas tree.

* * *

Nikolai is on his fourth beer while I help Katya string bulbs around the large spruce. It
almost
knocks into the flat-screen television. Timo claimed it was a Christmas miracle that the tree even fit in the room. He was planning on laughing his ass off (and recording it) when it smashed into the ceiling.

Nikolai didn’t look amused, but my phone call with Shay depleted most of his Christmas cheer. We just need a moment to talk.

Between the tree limbs, I notice Nikolai hovering around the kitchen, not able to sit down and relax. I feel like I’m channeling his volatile emotions, my muscles never loosening. This is worse than a normal bout of holiday stress.

Nikolai motions to Luka who’s opening a package of ornaments, Timo shuffling through holiday tunes on his iPod nearby. “Where did you get the lights?” he asks.

“I bought them.” Luka raises his hands. “I promise.”

“The receipt is in the bag,” Katya calls out, crouched near my feet.

Nikolai fists his beer bottle, not checking.

Luka glares. “Please look, okay?”

“I don’t need to. I believe you.”

Luka groans. “I don’t want you to believe me. I need you to
know
with actual proof.” Nikolai doesn’t budge. Maybe he’s wary to encounter more bad news. “
Please
.” Luka says a few more words in Russian before Nikolai leaves his post beside the bar.

He picks out the receipt from the paper bag. And with an indecipherable expression, he puts it back.

“And?” Luka asks.

Nikolai doesn’t blink. “And I said I believed you.”

Luka sighs exasperatedly. “You could at least look proud of me.”

“I am proud, Luk,” he says, his words coarse. And I know it’s not from his brother. He’s still fixated on other things. Okay, this has to end. I quickly plug the lights into the outlet, only half blinking on.

“Oh crap,” Katya says, her voice muffled as she crawls around the tree.

I squeeze out from behind it, being whacked by pine needles, and I hurry over to Nikolai.

Luka holds a couple blue ornaments, meeting my gaze. He gestures to his older brother. “Fix him, please.”

Nikolai glares. “I’m fine.” He growled those words.

Timo switches the song to “You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” He’s too amused by this.

“Let’s talk,” I tell Nik, grabbing his hand. I just hope I find the right things to say.

He follows me towards his bedroom, and Timo calls out in a sing-song voice, “You’ve got garlic in your soul! I wouldn’t touch you with a—”

I shut the door.

Nik sets the beer on the dresser. He waits for me to speak since I dragged him in here.

“I know you’re upset, but nothing has happened yet…” I trail off as his gaze narrows and jaw muscles twitch.

Cold sweeps me, even with hot air blowing from the vents.

After a long moment, he finally says, “It’s hard enough accepting the idea that I may lose you to your career, but now I may lose you to Shay and to the same fucking show that split apart my family.”

The connection between the original Somnio and the revival next year puts a pit in my stomach. I tread lightly over that and say, “Shay and I aren’t together.”

His shoulders lock. “It doesn’t matter, Thora. He’ll be
with you
, close to you, able to see you
every single day.
Able to hold your hand and touch your face.” He grimaces, hurt flashing at the image and puncturing me. “I don’t care if it’s friendly…The thought of him even five feet near you while I’m an ocean away…” He has to drop his gaze from me. “I am just trying to process this.”

A weight bears on my chest. “Whatever happens, just know…” And I can’t say the words. They’re stuck in my throat. They won’t come out.
Say it, Thora.

He stares down at me, waiting. I always pause. And he rarely fills the silence with his own voice. He just looks so deeply into me and gives me time to find the right thing…

“I’m in love with you,” I whisper.

He tries to smile but his eyes flood instead. “Don’t love me more than your dreams, myshka. Because I love you too much to let you give them up for me.”

It feels like a snowplow has rolled over my body, fracturing every bone. “I’m going to choose the circus,” I say in a shaky voice, “but it won’t change my feelings for you.”

“You’ll always remember me then,” he says softly with a weaker smile. “I’m happy to be a chapter in your life.”

Tears fall when I blink. “Don’t say that. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Try your best at the auditions. If you don’t, you’d hate yourself for it. And I’d be disappointed in you.”

“Nik—”

“It’s okay,” he says, convincing himself. He grabs his beer. “I’m okay. We follow our passions. That’s what we’re made to do.”

I shift uneasily, having trouble responding.

He rakes a hand through his messy hair. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I nod, watching him walk tensely across the room, finishing the last of his beer.

I never thought saying I love you, out loud, for the first time would hurt so much. And strangely, I don’t want to take it back.

I know that I can still love him and choose the contract. But the reality is less sweet than it was before. Nikolai spelled it out. If I’m with him, I’m not in the circus. If I’m in the circus, I’m not with him.

Either way, I lose.

Act Forty-Five

“Thank you all for being here,” Helen says, a clipboard perched beneath her arm. Her phone buzzes and she takes a moment to read a message.

There are about a hundred wannabe artists, sitting along the blue mats as we wait for instruction. First cuts were last week, and we’re all that’s left.

Shay leans into my arm and whispers, “We have to be working on the apparatuses today.”

I nod. “You’re probably right.” We already danced—did improv acting—kind of like my first auditions for Amour. I’m happy to have at least passed that part again. I keep cracking my knuckles, a nervous habit.

I look up, half-hoping to see Nikolai sitting with the row of directors and choreographers. To give me that single nod like
you’re doing well, myshka.

He’s not here. I see wrinkled foreheads as men and women try to pick the best cast for each show. So that it’ll make the most money. I can’t tell whether they look at me and see dollar signs.

I can only hope that I’m more than just background. After months of training, I know there’s nothing more I can do.

Helen pockets her cell. “We have fourteen spots to fill for Somnio, two for Infini and one for Viva.”

Infini and Viva mean that I stay in Vegas.

Somnio means I travel far, far away from Nikolai.

I inhale strongly, trying to push these thoughts out.

“We’re going to test you on multiple disciplines. We’re looking for stand-out performers,” Helen explains. “Those who catch our eye will be awarded a one-year contract. At the end of the year, we’ll either ask you to renew or to leave us.” There’s not much time to digest the rest of the facts. She adds, “We’re splitting everyone up in groups of five. When I call your number, please come forward.”

I press my hand to the number 29, stuck to my black leotard, just to ensure it’s still there. That I’m still in the running.

Before Helen speaks again, I remember what Nikolai told me this morning. I was pulling my dirty-blonde hair into a tight pony while he sat on the edge of the bed.

He said, “All you need is luck. The rest, you’ll do great at.”

I smiled. “Is that my trainer speaking?”

“Yes,” he said, “but you’d probably think it’s a problem.”

I hesitated, “Why’s that?”

He stood up, towering above me with those intense grays. “Your trainer is in love with you.”

I don’t have a problem with it, not even a little bit. Nikolai is brutally honest, and he’d tell me if I sucked. He wouldn’t watch me fall flat on my face and fail. I trust his words.

I just need some luck today.

“Twenty-nine,” Helen calls.

With one last motivational breath, I rise to my feet.

Act Forty-Six

“I didn’t think you could ever do that,” Shay tells me, taking a swig from his water bottle. I wipe my forehead with my towel. The directors have been in deliberation for the past thirty minutes, so we’re all just waiting on the mats again.

“Was I okay?” I wonder, even though I know I did my personal best. They made me climb a Chinese pole, which I’d worked on with Nikolai, and I performed several drops and poses on aerial silk. I didn’t think too hard about the movements. I tried to relax my face and just follow the music.

I felt stronger. Better. More graceful.

I’m just crossing my fingers that they thought so too.

“You were awesome.” He sounds genuine. “Like I said, I never thought you could do that.”

It makes me realize how far I’ve come since the start. “You nailed that full twisting layout,” I mention. They harnessed everyone for the Russian swing, just for safety. But Shay started with some of the hardest tricks, and he landed almost all of them.

“Yeah, I got the feel of the swing pretty fast,” he says. “But I tripped up on the double.”

I give him a look. “You barely stumbled.” He’s too hard on himself. I stuff my towel in my gym bag.

“I hate when I’m a little off though. It’s like leaving the bathroom with a piece of toilet paper hanging from my pants.”

He’s always been a perfectionist with gymnastics. I think the avoidable fumbles frustrate him the most.

He takes another swig of water. “So where are we going to celebrate after?”

“The Red Death is the best club…” My voice fades as Helen and the rest of the directors exit the office and enter the gym. Everyone quiets when they parade over to the long table.

Helen is the only one left standing, her clipboard outstretched with all the answers. She clears her throat. “Thank you again for coming out. We know we have a great crop of artists here. We don’t want to keep you long, so if I call your number, please stay after to sign the necessary paperwork.”

I watch her flip a page in her clipboard, a breath caged in my lungs. I take a peek at Shay’s number on the band of his red Ohio State gym shorts: 88.

“For Viva, number thirty-three.”

Heads turn as we all silently look for the person with the number. It’s not hard to find the smiling, elated girl with a French braid.

Two more spots left for a show in Vegas.
Please call twenty-nine.
I repeat the mantra over and over, hoping. Just hoping.

“For Infini, numbers seventy-four and sixty-two.”

My heart sinks.
It’s okay.

It’s okay.

I don’t want to picture Nikolai right now, but all I see is me leaving him. He’s altered the landscape of my aspirations, and it’s not as sunny when he’s not in it.