SORRY!
I just got back from my study abroad and I finally got settled down enough to start updating this. I promise I'll start updating regularly!
Please forgive me!
With You
"Is this where the magic happens?" Jordan asked as he flopped onto my bed, still neatly made from the morning before.
I could only blush at his insinuation but, luckily, I was able to hide it by turning around and focusing on trying to find my suitcase.
"So this is the infamous bedroom. Hmm, looks better in person," Jordan eyes scanned the room.
"Infamous? Looks better in person?" I asked, finally locating my suitcase in the back of my closet. "Where did you see it, in the first place?"
"On YouTube. Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre made a YouTube channel and I am one of 200 subscribers. They posted a Cribs special of all the dancers' apartments and houses. From what I can tell, practically all of you guys live in this building," Jordan got up from my bed to peruse the room at a much finer detail.
"I think the Company owns a few floors of this building so they're able to subsidize it to us for free," I explained as I start piling clothes into the worn, brown leather suitcase.
"Interesting," Jordan commented as he finished peeking inside the drawers of my wardrobe and inspecting underneath my bed.
"What's interesting?"
"This place is neat, too neat," Jordan said, impersonating a film noir PI. "Aha!" He exclaimed as he looked into the trashcan.
My stomach dropped. My throat dried. My heart slammed against my ribs. The man I wanted to have a future with was rummaging through the trashcan, that I had dumped my past into, my past with Evgeni. I resisted the urge to snatch the trashcan from his hands.
Jordan began picking through the contents of the trashcan with a pair of tongs he took from the kitchen. Occasionally, he would make a great show of picking something out and examining it before dropping it back into the bin.
"Find anything interesting?" I tried my best to keep my voice even. I held my breath as I waited for his response.
"Hmph," Jordan sighed, "Nope just some letters and stuff in Russian. I guess it's true."
"What's true?" I asked, finally able to exhale and my heartbeat to calm down.
"That you have absolutely no dirty laundry or skeletons in your closet," Jordan said with a smile before crouching beside me. "Is that you?" He asked as he picked up the scrapbook that was peeking out of the front pocket of my suitcase. It was a small notebook that featured a portrait that was done of me on the cover. The portrait was a very dramatic, black and white photograph from the bust line up. I was wearing my costume from Swan Lake, but the focus was not on me but on my shadow. The shadow that was formed by the delicate lines of my port de bras.
"Yes," I breathed, "I didn't even remember packing this. It's a little scrapbook my mama made me. It shows how ballet has run through our family. It begins with my great-grandmother and ends with my career." My voice came to a hush as I opened the scrapbook to the first page. The first page had an old, yellowed, black and white photograph of my great-grandmother in full costume from Raymonda. I flipped through the pages, showing the stages of my career as a young dancer to my last years with the Bolshoi. The last few pages were blank, ready to be filled with my story and the story of my little girls, who would continue to legacy. "I guess she wanted to remind me of the standard I was to live up to."
Jordan took the book from my hands and began looking through the pages, carefully examining each picture as if trying to memorize every detail.
I resumed my packing, not wanting to forget anything. It felt odd to say goodbye to the apartment that had been my first home in Pittsburgh. It seemed irrational to have such a connection to this small room with the seafoam walls and the adjoining bathroom that I had only lived in for a short time but when were feelings ever rational. After packing everything up, I was cleaning up my vanity and I found myself staring at a Polaroid that was taken of Anna, Leesha and I during the Auditions. We were sitting in a group on the floor of the stage stretching. The combination of the flash from the Polaroid and the stark stage lights washed out our faces, making our stage makeup standout. Evan caught us off guard and we all had this doe-eyed look with our mouths open. There was this camaraderie in the way were positioned and how we looked. We looked like friends, but not just friends but friends who have known each other for years. It seemed like there was this whole sub-story behind the photo. A story that didn't exist because of jealousy, anger and ambition.
"No way!" Jordan exclaimed, pointing eagerly at a photograph in the book. I quickly joined him on the bed to see what had piqued his interest in such a way. "Is that you? As a kid?"
It was a picture of me, when I was at least four. I was sleeping wearing my ballet leotard and clutching a wand that was topped a gold sequin star. "Yeah, it is. I loved ballet so much that I didn't want to take off my leotard. That wand was a prop from a recital I did." I smiled inwardly, reminiscing of simpler days. "I'm done packing. We can go, now."
"And now the real fun begins," Jordan teased as he lifted my suitcase with ease. "Where do you wanna go next?" He asked as we headed out of the apartment.
"The zoo!" I exclaimed, "I hear the Pittsburgh Zoo is amazing!"
"The zoo it is."
"Look it's you!" I pointed excitedly at the penguins. I felt like a child again, running around, pointing at animals, pressing my face against the glass.
Jordan laughed at the stout, waddling birds. "I hope you think I'm better looking than that."
"You look more like that one," I pointed at penguin with a flamboyant plume of bright yellow and black. "He's a show off."
"Maybe he's showing off so he can get the girl," He teased. "That one" Jordan pointed at a small, sleek penguin diving into the water and gliding through the water with an ease and grace, "is you."
"Okay, you are a southern rockhopper penguin and I am a magellenic penguin," I read from the placard, stumbling over the words, my finger underlining the information.
"Sounds 'bout right," Jordan said and started to read off the plastic placard, his hand covering mine as he underlined the white, engraved words on the navy blue plastic. "We both happen to be indigenous to the South American region."
"Is that right?" I smiled, liking the feeling of my hand in his.
"Yup, that's right. After all, I am a Penguin," He said with a cheeky grin. "Now, where to next, birthday princess?"
"To the polar bears!" I exclaimed enthusiastically as I grabbed Jordan's hand and ran off in the direction of the polar bears. We entered a long walk-through tunnel, which ran through a large tank of water. It was dark and cool. It felt like we entered another world. I pressed my face up against the glass as a polar bear swam past us. I couldn't help but smile, when I saw Jordan doing the same. "This is amazing," I breathed.
"It is. Isn't it?" I didn't know it then but when he said those words, he wasn't looking at the polar bears or the sea otters or the sharks. He was looking at me.
"I wonder what they think about," I whispered as if the sound of my voice would break the spell, "Do you think they mind us watching them?"
"Who knows?" Jordan's hand was touching mine as we both grasped the handrail.
"I like polar bears. I think they're my favorite." I took Jordan's hand in mine as we stood there, surrounded by people but feeling as if we were the only ones in the whole world.
"Do you like them better than Penguins?" Jordan joked.
"I suppose that depends on the Penguin," I said with a small, coy smile. I was about to say something else but a little boy no older than 7 began tugging on the hem of Jordan's shirt.
"Hi, J-Jordan St-Staal. I'm Mitch and you're my idol. I place center, too, and I was born in Thunder Bay, too, but I moved here when I was 3. I wish you guys won last year and not the stupid Red Wings. But I know you'll win it this year. I just know it! D-do you think my mom can take a picture of me and you?" There was nothing but adoration in Mitch's big, green eyes.
Jordan ruffled Mitch's red hair, "Sure, kid." Jordan crouched down next to Mitch and Mitch's mother took the picture. "Why don't I sign something for you, too?"
"Would you? Please!" It was amazing to see how such simple acts could make someone smile.
"Of course, what do you want me to sign?"
"My hat! My baseball hat! Mom!" Mitch ran to his mom and reached into her bag to pull out a black and gold Pittsburgh Penguins baseball hat. Mitch's mother handed him a Sharpie marker, too. Mitch tucked the marker behind his ear and carefully held the hat in his hands like it was a prized possession that would break if he dropped it or held it to tightly. "Please!" He exclaimed as he handed the hat to Jordan.
Jordan plucked the marker from the behind the red-haired, freckle-faced, green-eyed boy and signed the hat. "To Mitch, my fellow center and Thunder Bay boy. Best of wishes to the future #1 draft pick. Your idol, Jordan Staal," Jordan dictated as he signed with a flourish. "Here you go, kid," Jordan placed the hat on Mitch's head and patted his back.
"Thanks! Thank you so much!" Mitch gushed as he went back to his mother. He was nearly squealing with glee.
"What is it like?" I asked Jordan. Mitch and his mother were out of earshot.
"What is what like?"
"What is like to be able to walk into a room and make someone smile? To just take a picture with someone and simply autograph a baseball hat and make them pink with glee?"
Jordan smiled and took my hand in his, "You should know. That's how I feel when I'm with you."
Please review! I hope you liked this chapter.
