Finding Center (11 page)

Aly

Our last class before Labor Day weekend goes surprisingly well. Though I’m starting to show, no one’s noticed at the company yet. I think my breasts are already growing which evens out the effects of my stomach being slightly rounded. And at nine weeks pregnant, I’m figuring out what I need to do throughout the day to avoid both an energy and a mood crash midafternoon. I didn’t used to snack during our five-minute breaks and our breaks between classes, but now I eat little packages of almonds and drink orange juice from boxes.

Today when Sofia, Yana and I come back up the stairs from lunch, laughing as Yana tells us about her latest foray into online dating, Jonathan stops me in the hallway. I haven’t seen him much since casting. He’s back to the big picture work in the company. “Hey, Alyona. Quick question I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s Zed?”

“School started this week but otherwise, he’s good. Why?” I finish my water and screw the cap back on the bottle.

Jonathan shrugs. “Just curious. He’s still not going to teach for me?”

I smile. “Unlikely. But I’ll tell him you asked again.”

His eyes glint with mischief and I wonder if Jonathan and Zed would have been friends all those years ago at Philadelphia if things had gone differently. “You do that. Take it easy in your class, ladies, and have a good weekend. See you Tuesday.”

We take time off, but very few of us won’t dance. I’m taking a class in the morning before my mother, Will, Zed and I go up to Nantucket for the weekend. I’ll probably swim and dance as much as I can there. It’ll be nice to have the peace and quiet. Zed and I need this, I think. I know I do.

At the start of class as we’re all warming up our bodies again, Madison slides over to us in the corner and rests her hand on Yevgeny’s arm. He smiles because he’s nice, even when he shouldn’t be. “Yevgeny, I
really
appreciated that class we took with Lila on Saturday. Of all the partners I’ve had, you’re the one I trust the best. I hope we get to dance together onstage soon.”

I roll my eyes and grind my teeth a little bit, trying to hide how much she irritates me. Yana mimes vomiting to me and I duck my face under my arm, hiding my grin. Yevgeny says smoothly, “I’m sure that’ll happen eventually.”

It’s the closest Yevgeny’s ever going to get to cold. Yana says something to him in Russian and he swings his foot in
développé
and smacks her in the face. It’s deliberate and she shrieks, swatting at him.

“Children,” Sofia says, rising on pointe. In the mirror, I can see the fresh scars from her back surgery creeping over the bottom of her leotard. “Professionals.”

“You and Alyona come from a different school of thought,” Madison tells her. “You two work so hard that it makes you painful to partner with. That’s why Yevgeny and I have such fun together. We’re the new generation of dancers.”

I blink at her. I’m three years younger than Sofia and three years older than Yevgeny. All I can come up with is, “You’re really desperate, aren’t you?”

She bats her eyelashes at me, sliding in between Yana and me at the barre. “I’d think you’d be the desperate one. It’s clear that your career is ending early. It’s a shame, you’re young still, but you can’t keep up. And don’t think we haven’t noticed you gaining weight.” She smirks. “I guess you’re desperate for attention any way you can get it.”

Yevgeny moves around Yana in a heartbeat. Towering over all of us, he says quietly, “You need to go, Madison.”

Sofia touches the small of my back and Yana’s eyes are wide. I can’t stop watching Yevgeny. He doesn’t move his gaze from Madison who is a little flushed. She swallows and says, “It’s just teasing. It’s all fun.”

“It isn’t,” Yevgeny says, his voice still very calm. “Please go back to your friends.”

It’s too small of a company to have divisions like this, but Madison marches back to her normal group of friends, and she doesn’t turn around once. Yevgeny turns to me, his mouth set in a firm line. He taps my collarbone once. “I am glad that you are not like that.”

But I was, and I think I’m still a little bit like it. When I see Madison, I see my own ruthlessness and ambition mirrored back at me. I think that’s why I’m speechless around her. I think that’s why she gets under my skin.

I squeeze Yevgeny’s hand and then we all move into rehearsals, leaving the tension behind us.

* * *

Later, when I get home to an empty apartment, I sink into a hot bath where I stay until my hands prune and the water turns cold. My muscles, exhausted and aching from overuse, finally start to relax and unknot. When I step out of the tub and wrap a towel around my body, I can feel the way it sits differently across my stomach, around my hips. I braid my hair while it’s still wet and hurry back into the bedroom to pull on clean clothes.

“Hi.” I nearly jump out of my skin, spinning around to see Zed sleepily sitting up in bed. He rubs at his eyes. “You’re home.”

I stare at him and then glance at the alarm clock. “Zed, it’s seven.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“You’re in bed.” He nods again. He’s not someone who gets sick very often. I slip on sweatpants and one of my favorite shirts. “Do you feel okay?”

“Tired,” he says, and then yawns. “Exhausted, really. Stupid first week of school.”

It’s more than that, but if he wants to be cagey, I’ll let it go. It’s not like he pries all of my moods apart. And I have no shortage of moods. I move over to the bed and lean over him, kissing him gently and brushing his hair out of his face. He hums against my mouth.

“We don’t have to go to Nantucket,” I whisper.

He grins, tugging on my braid. “Liar. You’re been looking forward to this all summer. Of course we’ll go.”

“Do you want me to bring you dinner in bed?”

He sits up so fast our heads knock together and we both yelp, leaning back and scowling at each other. He winces and reaches for me, pulling me down so he can kiss the bump on my forehead. “You’re offering to
cook
. I didn’t even know you remembered how to do that.”

I swat at him. “Shut up. I can cook. Some things.” He waits, a grin growing on his face. After a few seconds, I capitulate and grumble, “Okay. I can microwave things.”

He pulls me down to kiss me again, this time a little harder, his tongue sliding against mine. His hand at the small of my back pulls me flush against his chest. His fingers play with the hem of my shirt. “We could eat later and I’d even help you.”

“So generous,” I laugh, letting my head fall back as his fingers pull down the neck of my shirt so he can kiss the top of my breast. My fingers grip his arms. “Zed.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?” His free hand slides up my stomach, skates across my ribs. After all these years and all this time, his touch still makes my stomach do somersaults, still turns my heart into knots only he can undo.

“Later sounds good,” I whisper, pushing back at him. He falls back onto the bed. I lean over him, holding his wrists down on the bed, and kiss him hard, nipping at his lower lip. He groans against me and I smile against his throat. I could do distracting.

Zed

Aly’s bathing suit has this ruffle going across her body from breast to opposite hip. We stopped at least three times to try on suits at different stores after she realized that her bikini wouldn’t hide her ten-week baby bump. Theoretically the ruffle should do it, but I can still see it. I don’t know if it’s because I know her body, or because I’m looking for it.

We arrive on the island just before dinnertime, fresh off the ferry that nearly made Aly lose her small lunch. Cara and Will, her mother’s partner and, coincidentally, my boss, are both down by the ocean on beach chairs when we surprise them. Will shakes my hand as I lean on my crutches. Sand and fancy prosthetic legs don’t mix real well.

Aly tugs at the ruffle a little bit after hugging her mom. “We have time for a quick dip before dinner, right?”

Her mom gestures to the waves crashing up on the shore. “Sure. It’s cold though. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

It’s already cold up here for us. We’re used to the heat and Nantucket’s dryer and cooler than DC. I reach out with a crutch and tap Aly’s leg. “Race you.”

She shrieks as I push off, running for the waves as fast as I can. She’s right behind me, laughing as we crash into the water without preamble. We both like it better than wading in slowly. I surface, holding the crutches over my head, and Aly bobs to the surface next to me, smoothing her hair back off her face. She grabs for the crutches and I let her take them back to shore, safely out of the reach of the waves. She runs back into the ocean and dives under a wave, swimming out to me.

I tread water even though I can touch the rocky, shell-covered bottom. Out here, it doesn’t matter that I only have one leg. Out here, no one can tell. Aly grins as she swims close to me, sliding her hands up my chest. I pull her legs around my waist, touching my toes down on the ocean floor to hold her up. She loops her hands around the back of my head and kisses me slowly, tasting like salt water.

“Thanks for putting up with my crazy,” she whispers.

“I like your crazy. I love you,” I murmur, kissing her neck. I’m aware of Cara and Will on the shore, watching us, so that’s as far as it goes. “The water’s cold as shit though.”

Aly laughs. “I know, I don’t think I’ll be out here long.”

She pulls away from me and turns, diving down to touch the bottom and do a handstand. I do the same. My right foot reaches out of the water and to the sky. My left leg doesn’t break the waves. But when we surface, Aly and I wear matching grins.

* * *

Back at the house, Aly’s wearing a sweatshirt of mine that reaches over her knees, her hair still dark from the ocean water, and she’s curled up at my side in front of the fireplace. I kiss the side of her head. My whole body aches from dancing this week and from using the crutches that I rarely need, but her body against mine stirs up a low steady buzz in my veins. Will sits down next to me with a beer and passes me a mug of tea for Aly.

“Thanks,” she says, sitting up a bit and stretching her legs. She arches both of her feet and rolls her head. She takes a sip of tea and puts it down, closing her eyes. She’s nauseated, I can tell from her expression. It’s rare that tea makes her feel that way.

Cara brings us bowls of stew, but Aly turns away from it. Cara’s mouth sets and I shake my head a little bit, trying to keep a fight about Aly’s food off the table. Aly gets up off the floor. “I’m just going to lie down for a bit. I think I swallowed some of the sea water. I don’t feel well.”

I think Cara knows. Her eyes sharpen as Aly walks out of the living room and to the bedrooms and she glances at me as if she’s looking for an explanation. I glance after Aly and then down into my bowl. I’ve never been good at lying, but I’m a champion at evasion. After I’m done with my stew, I get to my feet again, my leg back on, and stick Aly’s stew in the microwave. I lean against the counter, waiting for it to go around and around, when she calls my name, her voice wavering.

Will and Cara’s conversation stops immediately and they both look at me, wide-eyed. Aly calls for me again, her voice hitting a higher pitch and I head back toward the guest room, my heart pounding. I open the door a little bit and slide inside. She has all the lights on and she’s sitting on the bed, paler than a sheet.

“I’m spotting,” she whispers, the fear catching her words on their way over her tongue. “Zed.”

Spotting. Blood.
Miscarriage
. My throat closes up and I shake my head, once, trying to get my heart to calm down so I can think through this. “Okay. Do you want to call your doctor or do you want to go straight to the hospital?”

“I...” she falters.

I make an executive decision. “Let’s just go. Peace of mind.”

She nods and rises slowly, trembling. I catch her hands and pull her against me, exhaling against her cheek. “Aly. It’s not necessarily abnormal. We can’t freak out until we know what’s going on, okay?”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment and then says, “What if it was the swimming?”

I don’t add,
what if it’s because I challenged you to a race
? Because the guilt’s already making it hard to breathe. I guide her to the door and say, “We just have to go, okay?” And then as I open the door, I add quickly, “And I’ll handle this.”

Cara’s in the kitchen, looking afraid, and when we emerge, she grips the counter with both hands. “Is everything okay?”

“Can we borrow your car? We need to get to the hospital,” I say. In my head, in the hallway, those words came out calmly. But now, my voice cracks and spills out. Cara stares at us.

But Will doesn’t. He grabs the car keys and says, “Okay. We’ll drive you. Let’s go.”

Cara asks several times what’s going on, but I don’t know how to say the words, and I don’t know what the protocol is for telling someone who didn’t know you were pregnant that you might be miscarrying. I’m just trying to hold all the pieces of Aly together until we know.

When she asks me the last time, I finally snap back, “How much longer?”

It’s only been a few minutes and the island’s not that big. Will reaches over and squeezes Cara’s hand. “It’s a good thing there’s not much traffic, yeah? It’s the next light. Almost there.”

It’s a long ten-minute drive. Cara doesn’t let go of Will’s hand. Aly doesn’t let go of mine.

The hospital in Nantucket is quiet, not like DC hospitals. Not like the emergency rooms in Philadelphia that neither of us remembers. When Aly whispers to the triage nurse, “I think I’m miscarrying,” they give us a room right away and I ask Cara and Will to wait in the waiting room. Cara’s furious but Will holds her elbow and nods to me. In the room, Aly’s almost completely mute. She’s pulled her arms inside the sweatshirt and wrapped them around her knees.

I can’t do anything but rest my chin on her shoulder and stroke her hair until a doctor comes in with an ultrasound machine. He takes Aly’s history and I fill in where she can’t. He tells us that some spotting is normal, which we knew but still, the guilt sinks like a stone in my gut.

“There’s a heartbeat,” the doctor says calmly. He points to the screen. “And there’s the baby. I don’t think this is a threatened miscarriage. You don’t have any cramps. It’s light spotting and that’s a good heartbeat. I’d take it easy for the next few days and see your OB when you get home. It’s unlikely that this was caused by swimming or running.”

The breath leaving my body doubles me over, my forehead colliding with Aly’s collarbone. I close my eyes, the tears welling up as Aly’s hand curls around my head and her fingers sink into my hair. She whispers, “Thank you.”

“Just take it easy,” the doctor says. “We’ll get you out of here shortly.”

I can’t speak but Aly says, “Can you send my parents in from the waiting room? Cara Baines and Will Parsons.”

The doctor leaves our little room, and I let out something that’s halfway between a gasp and a sob. Aly wraps both of her arms around me. She’s crying, her tears damp against my forehead and arms. “Shh, Zed. You were right. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have told you to run,” I whisper.

“It’s okay,” she repeats softly. “That wasn’t it. He said it wasn’t. It’s okay.”

“Alyona, Zed,” Cara says, her voice tight with tears.

“Hi, Mom,” Aly says tiredly and I unwrap myself from her, turning away to wipe at my eyes. “I’m sorry. We weren’t ready to tell you yet, but I guess there’s no time like now. I’m pregnant.”

It doesn’t take Cara more than ten seconds to piece together why we raced to the ER at eight o’clock at night, or why I’m crying, and then we’re rushing to reassure her that we haven’t lost it. Everyone’s crying and all I want to do is take Aly home and fall asleep next to her. It takes forever to discharge from the hospital, longer than we were actually in there for, and in the back of Will’s car, Aly grips my hand tightly. The pain helps keep me grounded.

“So you can’t dance,” Cara says, glancing into the rearview mirror. “If you had this scare at ten weeks, Alyona, you shouldn’t be dancing.”

Aly opens her mouth and I cut in, softly, “We should check with Aly’s doctor at home. Maybe this was just a fluke and us overreacting.”

Aly glances at me, surprised, but if it’s a fight we’re going to have, we’re not going to have it tonight. All I want to do right now is dance, and if I feel that way, I know she does too. It’s all that remains when the fight’s left us and we’re exhausted by the world.