7/7/17
He is always agitated when he comes back from work recently. She knows he works for the government, that he supports the motherland. She is twelve now, and she understands that when he paces it means he will go for a walk near her old home. The building has been rebuilt. Her father might also have been.
"Do you love me Natalia?" Ivan asks her as he suddenly pauses in his pacing.
She nods. "Yes."
"Do you love this country?"
"Yes." No hesitation, just like how they practiced for when guests who come over asks her that.
He looks at her, part desperate part defeated, whole tired. Maybe he shouldn't stay up for her anymore, she thinks. He's too tired.
"Natalia, there is something you can do for your motherland, for this glorious country. It will require a lot of hard work and a lot of dedication. They will ask everything of you. Can you do that Natalia? Are you willing to make me, make the motherland proud?"
The next day, she moves out of one red room to another.
She doesn't know what the Red Room with capital letters do. She does know, as she walks down the dark hallways with closed doors, that Ivan really did not want her to be here. He twitches though everyone greets him with a salute. His hands tighten on his suitcase. He winces. He shrugs off her concern. He is scared.
He brings her to an office with pristine frames. The door handle glistens. The chatter behind it stops when they knock. The door opens. Two men in military uniforms stand.
One says, "Comrade Petrovich, is this another candidate?"
The other says, "Goddamn Ivan. Another one of your own kids?"
She will ponder the meaning of the second question for the next year before she figures it out, but by then it's too late and too useless.
Ivan says, "I am willing to sacrifice for the motherland. She will outlive all of us if we give back."
One says, "what about the orphanage? We can find someone there."
The other says, "is she loyal?"
She says yes, with no hesitation like a good citizen. Ivan's lips press.
"I want to do this," she say. "I want to make Russia proud."
One says, "don't speak when you're not spoken to, little girl."
The other says, "it's your kid, Ivan."
Ivan tells her she is to become one out of 28 ballerinas training in the Bolshoi Theatre. He tells her she is to follow directions precisely. He tells her he is proud. Tears roll down his eyes. He hugs her. She hugs back. He whispers that he loves her.
He leaves her in a facility without any luggage. She does not see him again for the next ten years.
Training is hard. She sleeps in the same room as the other 27 girls. They train all day, and at first it was difficult to make due with her slight frame and weak lungs, she hurries to make progress with practice. She points her toes and cups her hands at lunch, envision moves in her head as she sleeps, listens and follows every direction. The days are fuzzy, blurring into one another until she can't tell how long she has stayed there. Some girls leave because the pressure is too much. Some cry into their pillows and rattle their beds. Some look at her with pity and envy and fear. They sicken her. She will be the best and make Ivan and the motherland proud.
One day, after the hard training that leaves one girl crying and one girl unmoving with exhaustion on the floor, her trainer tells her to stay. He makes her jump and twirl and plié and she does so with a smile on her face. He looks at her.
You were made for this, he said. She does not reply. One wasn't warranted. He dismisses her after, and as she leaves the door she can almost hear Ivan praising her. She wonders when he will visit.
(Change from ballet to fighting terms. too lazy right now)
Ivan Petrovich slumps in his office chair. A file about a serum is on his desk. His children are some of the best they've ever seen in the program, they say.
He will be praised for his contributions and sacrifices to the program, they say.
He is a fool for sacrificing so much to the program even after failure, they say.
You have buried one child and you might have to bury the other soon, they mean.
He knows all of these, and as he waits next to the bedside of a red haired girl strapped down with ten buckles, he regrets.
She is to