CHAPTER Twenty One
Erin
Over the next couple of weeks, Alek pretty much attaches himself to my side. We do everything together. Even Katerina has taken on a new role, she actually stopped trying to figure out creative ways to send kinky ass women, as she so elegantly put it that night I came to her Bellagio home, into Alek’s life.
Before meeting Alek for dinner, I stop by Black Butterfly one last time to check up on our two interns. Carla and Luca are attending a show being held at my old design school in Florence. I have a sexy, but horny maestro waiting on me to finish up so we can spend some time together at the coast for a day or two. My world is on a stairway to a magical place I’ve never been able to reach, instead of descending into hell as it has always done before. I guess it’s safe to say things seem to be looking up.
Yeah, sure Petre, the yoga mob boss turned out to be a seriously crappy person; but his advice has stuck in my head. At least something good came out of that experience for Alek and me. Tonight, I’m even wearing the yellow outfit Alek fell so hard for on the night he gave me his contract, one of the two arrangements that forever changed my life. As soon as I step toward the exit, I almost collide with a woman wearing a red mini dress. Katerina.
And suddenly the storm clouds roll in from the west.
Strolling though the doorway as though she comes to visit on a regular basis, she beams a smile at me. I’ve never seen her dressed in this color before. I’m conflicted in how I feel about this moment. Two things I’ve learned in life: 1) the no white after Labor Day rule is the most ridiculous thing ever created, and 2) to beware of any woman in a red dress who decides to grace your doorstep with her unexpected presence.
“Congratulations, Erin. The Mystical line is wildly successful. It appears that you’ve saved the Martuccios’ shop. I hear major investors are even looking into establishing a proper house for you and your bosses,” she gushes, a manic smile plastered on her face.
“Thanks, I think,” I answer.
“Good thing I called off the real estate vipers as my son so lovingly put it. Alek made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. It seems he and Nadya will be getting back together soon. It’s a mother’s dream, to see her son marrying into such a wealthy family. It has been weeks since he agreed to do this. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you.”
Somebody just punched me in the stomach, and then they boxed my ears afterwards. Either that or I’m in a nightmare with the woman who inspired the person who wrote that Hell’s Angel song.
“That’s not true. Alek is with me. He’s waiting on me right now,” I whisper, my throat tightening up.
“Is that right? Perhaps you should check and see,” she suggests in a voice filed with mock concern.
I won’t give her the satisfaction of watching her lies ruin my night. She’s choosing to mess with my head for some reason, and I have to keep it together. I will check with Alek, but I don’t want her to know I intend to do so just yet. “You were the one who threatened to buy us out? I knew it.”
“I own everything, darling. Surely Aleksandr told you all of this?”
“I think you know that he didn’t tell me a thing.”
Scoffing and waving her hands in the air, she says, “He has always been so good at keeping secrets. Like that time when he and his father took a secret trip to Lafayette five years ago. Something about a music recital Alek was scheduled to attend. Being a music lover has its perks. He always thought visiting my relatives was so boring. It was a delight for him to have the position at the performing arts center to keep him entertained.”
The room spins now. And I can feel the color draining from my face. “Alek was in Lafayette five years ago?”
“I’m stunned he hasn’t told you. The two of you have become so very close, haven’t you? Wait a minute. Didn’t you have an older sister who was musically gifted as well?”
I don’t answer. I don’t respond to Luca who walks in on the end of our conversation. He’s all smiley and glowing and totally opposite of everything I am at the moment.
I’m only focused on getting to the one person who can make sense out of all this. Alek. Katerina has taken a stake and driven it through the coffin she has obviously been building for a long time. She wants to make sure I’m dead, no questions asked.
“You look pale, Erin. Are you alright?” she asks, her voice filled with poison. Moving around Katerina, I head toward the Fiat I recently bought, and I don’t stop moving until I reach La Scala’s entrance.
Many thoughts race through my head. Alek was in Lafayette five years ago. I think about the day he first saw me wearing Jada’s butterfly necklace. It was kind of like he was trying to place where he’d seen it before. I mistook his behavior for concern. On another night when he woke me up because of his nightmare, he told me it was about a girl he knew who died a long time ago.
My feet get tangled around the hem of my yellow dress, the one similar to the outfit Jada wore the day she died; and I trip over it as I get out of my car.
As if Katerina’s well-timed execution wasn’t enough to send me over the edge, I recall the night Alek came to visit me. That was the time I told him about my sister’s accident, the night he confirmed that he knew it was a hit and run, and I didn’t say a word that would’ve given him a clue. But he already knew.
You’ve been a fool.
I warned you, Righteous Me scolds.
Now I understand his sudden infatuation with me, the way he sometimes stares at me. The way he tells me he’ll never let anything bad happen to me ever again. I glide up the steps leading to the entrance, my eyes focused straight ahead.
I walk into the building and head straight for the rehearsal hall. I trudge toward Alek without breaking my stride, and stand beside the podium so he has a clear view of my face. He does a double take when he sees me, and I want so badly for this nightmare to just go away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice rising over the arrangement the ensemble is playing. The music dies down until only a couple of instruments are still playing.
Alek waves his baton toward the players. Even Nikolai and his group settle down after stealing a glance in my direction. He steps down to where I stand on the floor and attempts to kiss my cheek the way he usually does. I take a step back and hug my shoulders. His brown-blue eyes storm with concern and maybe even a little fear.
“Erin, you’re early,” he says, studying my face. “Hold on. That’ll be all for the day. On Monday, we practice the interlude. You’re all dismissed.” He tells them and turns back to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were in Lafayette five years ago?” I add on. His face goes pale. He waves off the players. One by one they file out of the pit. A few of them glance in our direction and quickly look away.
“Come with me,” he says and reaches for my hand.
“I know the way.” I move around him and trudge toward the stage’s exit. We walk in silence until we reach the changing rooms in back. I don’t go inside them, even though Alek opens one of the doors.
“You never told me that you were at the Arts Center,” I begin, a tingle scratching inside my windpipe. He frowns at my words. “In Lafayette, five years ago. Katerina told me you were there. Why were you in my hometown, Alek?”
“I was going to tell you. But you’ve been so upset over the past couple of weeks, dealing with Petre and all. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. Hear me out, please.” Sighing, he places one hand on his hip and runs the other one through his hair. “Could we at least go inside the room?”
I don’t say a word. Instead, I walk through the doorway, stop over by the changing table where I got prepared to dance like a ballerina a month ago, and cross my arms. Alek eases the door shut and turns to face me.
“Explain,” I say.
“Five years ago, Adriana and I left the Russian school system to go back to the States with Mother. Her father who lived in Texas had become ill. He was dying, and her mother had no one to care for her.
“I joined an exchange program dedicated to students pursuing the arts at a high school in Austin. One of the program directors asked me to fill in for a pianist that had called in sick at the Lafayette Arts Center. He said they were auditioning singers for a scholarship program, and needed me to play the selected music. I agreed. What I didn’t know was that my father had arrived in Texas a few days earlier. And he was hot about us leaving without telling him. We didn’t have Hagar with us on a full time basis, and I didn’t have a license yet. So, Mother paid for the bus ride to Lafayette. I was happy to get away from the drama and sadness surrounding her family.
“When I arrived at the arts center, your sister, Jada, was already singing that song—”
“The Rose. She was singing it for me,” I remind him. Feeling dizzy, I walk over to the chair in front of the makeup station and sit down.
“Her voice was beautiful. Perfect like her sister’s.” He takes a moment to study my face. I lower my eyes, because I’m not sure what’ll happen if I stare at him right now.
“I thought she was beautiful. I won’t lie. I wanted to approach her, to find out her name, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. What would a girl like that want with an ex gang member, I kept telling myself. Shortly after the auditions were done, I called Mother who told me father was on the way. And he was pissed that I’d left Austin. Something was going down in his circle of illegal friends, and he didn’t want any of his children to get caught up in the crossfire. We headed home. Jada had left about twenty minutes ahead of us.”
“Her ride left her,” I add, recalling how angry Father was about the C.I.A. meeting he had to leave because of Jada’s dilemma. “So she had to stick around and wait on my dad.”
“Father and I headed back toward Austin. He took a strange route, a road that ran along the swamp lands. We were too busy arguing for me to have the chance to question him about why we took that road. Next thing I know, we almost collided with another car barreling toward us. Father swerved, lost control of the car, and skidded to a stop. Being pig-headed Russian men who believe the seat belt rule is for pansies, we wound up with nasty concussions. Father was knocked unconscious, or so I thought. I checked for his pulse. He was okay. That’s when I spotted the smoking car that was on the other side of the road. The front end had crashed into an oak, and I could see people sitting inside of it.”
“People? You mean Jada and my father?” I ask, feeling numb, as all the life inside me starts to fly out the window.
“I tumbled out of Father’s car and ran over to the other one. It was a man and a girl in a yellow dress, the singer from the program. Both were unconscious. The driver side’s door was caved in; but I managed to pull the girl, your sister, Jada, out. I carried her far away from the scene.” Alek stops, sits down in the chair across from me, and lowers his head a moment before he continues. I can hear the pain in his voice, as he tells me what happened, but I’m too numb to care at the moment.
His face takes on a faraway look. “I held her in my arms, rocking her. From somewhere behind me, I hear Father’s voice shouting. He’s telling me to get back in the car and let the authorities handle the crime scene. But I’m caught up in Jada’s dark eyes, the desperation swimming inside them. She knew her life was slipping away, and I was forced to watch it happen. When I glance into yours, I experience that day all over again. I never understood why until I saw that.”
He points at my neck before he continues. “The butterfly necklace, the same one you’re wearing, stuck out in my mind throughout the years. It was the last thing I saw before my father knocked me unconscious. I never forgave him for making me leave her there, Erin. Please believe me.”
“You’re saying the girl you sometimes cry out for in your sleep, the one you have the nightmares about, is my sister? How long have you known this?”
“I had no idea the girl who died in my arms was your sister. I swear. Not until I saw you wearing the butterfly necklace,” he answers, his expression crumpling.
“Alek, that was almost three weeks ago,” I point out.
“I was going to tell you. I swear. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”
I believe him.
No, I don’t.
You should believe him.
Why? He’s a liar. All men are this way.
I stand and head toward the door. Alek grabs me around the waist, pulling me to him. “Don’t leave, Erin. Please. We can work through this.”
“No! We don’t have to work through anything,” I answer, my voice rising more than I’d intended it to do. “Your father pretty much left mine to die. Did you even hear what you just said?”
“I don’t need to hear it. I relive that day almost every night, Erin. What was I supposed to do? My father knocked me out. When I woke up, I was in Mother’s bed with a patchwork quilt lying on top of my body, and he was gone,” he answers.
“I need some air, Alek. I don’t understand why you waited so long to tell me. And I can’t f*cking breathe,” I shout, my voice finally cracking. I head toward the door, but Alek stands in my way.
“We can get through this, Jaybird. I know it.”
“Don’t call me that. You have no right to after what you just told me,” I snap. “Move. Better even, go back to Nadya and make your mother happy. I just want to be left alone.”
“No. We need to face this together, Erin. Please.”
“You’ll move, or I’m going to scream until everyone in this theatre comes running,” I threaten.
It was never about you, Erin. The girl he fell for, the reason he stares at you the way he does was because he wanted your sister. She was the one he preferred. I told you not to go too far with this man, and you didn’t listen. Now look at you.
I slam my hands over my ears. I don’t want to hear anymore voices, especially not Alek’s. The world spins around me and I feel like a little girl on a merry-go-round filled with demonic horses just like I saw in that old horror movie Jada made me watch one day. “Let go of me, damn it!”
Wrenching out of Alek’s grip, I slam out of the door and run down the hallway. I leave the voices in my head and everything else painful behind me.
* * *
I play The Rose almost a thousand times over the next five days while I hide in my apartment and smoke cigarettes. At this point, I feel pretty damn confident that I can create my own melody and chorus for that song.
For the past couple of nights, I’ve dreamt of Jada. We sit in a field, hiding from our parents while we smoke cigarettes we stole from our aunt’s purse. I’m eleven and she’s twelve.
“I’m Ava Gardner,” Jada says and throws her head back so she looks elegant just like the actress.
“Oh, she’s pretty. Who am I today?” I ask, eagerly awaiting her response.
Wincing a short moment, she finally says, “You get to be Vivien Leigh.” I don’t like her answer. I cross my arms and pout. I’d just watched Gone with the Wind with Mom again. She watches that movie almost every day. Sure, the woman who plays Scarlett O’ Hara is beautiful, but she’s also a bitch who treats people badly.
“Why do I always get to be the mean people?”
Jada puts her cigarette down, reaches over, and takes my hands in hers. “Don’t you see, you get to be the best actress out of the two.”
“I don’t understand,” I answer.
She playfully rolls her eyes. “Ava has a beautiful career and travels everywhere. That’ll be me someday. But Vivien gets to marry the man of her dreams.”
I think about that answer a bit before I respond. “What if I don’t want to get married? I think I’d rather have a bunch of clothes instead.”
“Hm. Maybe you’re right. I think I got the better girl.” She releases a long string of smoke and swings her head, throwing her hair over her left shoulder.
She handles her puffs so well, it makes me think she’s been smoking forever. I can almost feel the fumes hitching inside my lungs, making me feel as though I’m going to choke to death. I cough so hard and long that Jada gets scared and runs to find Mom.
I thought I was going to die from coughing so much that day. I didn’t die though. I once asked my therapist why all of the beautiful people, the ones like Jada, are taken away. While the rest of us, the ones who can’t seem to get their shit straight get to keep living? We need the smart and beautiful ones to stick around and help us get this life thing right. She couldn’t answer me. No one has ever answered my questions; which is why I chose to find out for myself one dark day five years ago.
Drifting back to the present, I release a long string of smoke. No, I’m not normally a smoker; and I’m not getting ready to start. Before people begin to wonder if I’ve lost my freaking mind, I’ll say that I’m only doing this because it reminds me of Jada. The smoke burning my insides, the smell of tobacco, me hiding inside my dark apartment: all of these things keep her memory alive in my head. I don’t choke on the cigarettes this time. It hasn’t even brought on an asthma attack. Life has toughened me up, and my lungs too, I guess. I handle the smoke like a pro this time.
The new life coach, the one who took Petre’s place is a woman who reminds me a lot of my therapist back home. She has left me one message out of the five days I’ve been in my retirement from life. The doorbell rips me out of the feeling-sorry-for-myself stupor I’ve been in.
Luca, Carla, Rafe, and even Alek have all left messages. A couple of them have tried to stop by. Usually, I sit on the floor and watch the door until the person leaves. I wonder if I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life in an institution the way mother wastes away her days.
I surprise myself with a bit of bravery. I actually feel as though I’m ready to face whatever life plans to surprise me with today.
Feeling a bit dazed from smoke overload, I put out my cigarette, walk toward the door, and open it. Adriana barrels through the doorway and throws her arms around my neck. “Wow. I didn’t think you still knew the way over to my house,” I say before she has the chance to scold me. She spends all of her time with Luca now.
She embraces me, choosing to ignore my depressed looking outfit that consists of a white tee shirt and a pair of sweats I ordered from Aeropastale online.
Yeah, I know, I’m a traitor.
My hair is one long braid that tangled up days ago. I didn’t feel like dealing with it then no more than I do today.
“You smell and look awful, Erin,” she says, but still choosing to hug me a while longer. I miss her. I won’t lie.
She reminds me of the sisterly comfort I no longer have, the girl that Alek’s father, Sergey, found on the road and then left to die. The pang still hits me in the chest when I think about it, even after a week of vacationing from life.
“I know why you’re here. It’s not going to work. Go back and tell him to stop sending people over here,” I blurt out before she has the chance to say a word. She follows me into the living room where about twenty empty crunchy cheese doodle bags lie on the floor. I plop down on the couch, turn on the tv, and pretend to be interested in the old Marilyn Monroe movie that’s playing on the television.
“Alek didn’t send me, Erin. I swear it. He’d probably kill me if he knew I stopped by today.” She sits down on the couch across from me and glances around the room. “Can I at least open some blinds? I feel like a vampire is waiting to jump out and grab me.”
“I don’t care,” I answer, shrugging. She hops right up and opens my windows. The full blast of daylight hurts my eyes. That’s how long I’ve been sitting in the dark. “Well, if I do have vamps, then that light will definitely f*ck them over.”
“You’re cursing again,” she responds, sitting down.
“So what? That’s what makes me feel most comfortable, okay? Everybody needs to stop trying to change me. If I want to go outside and scream out every curse word I know, then that’s my deal.”
What a bitch. She came over here to make you feel better and that’s how you treat her?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and focus on my hands.
“Now that you’re done bitch-slapping me, I do want to say a few things,” Adriana answers. My head snaps back up, and I give her an incredulous look. No, scratch that, I’m f*cking impressed.
“You just used profanity, Adriana. I don’t believe this.”
“Hey, in this business of glitz and glam and girls who stick tacks in the lining of your tutu, you have to be a little fiery. Either that, or you need to get the hell off the stage.” We both share a much needed laugh. She cracks me up in her attempts to use foul language.
“Okay, Adriana. I get your point.”
“You understand me in the same way as you do Alek,” she says quickly. The mood dampens, and I find myself wishing the vamps would come out and get her.
“Erin, I know he did something to screw up pretty badly. He has the world on his shoulders, though. Our parents made it this way, for both of us; but more so for him. Our lives have never been normal. You heard my mother that night she tortured you at the dinner table, she still arranges our dates.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”
“My brother hugs and kisses me all the time now. I don’t know what to think. I felt his forehead. I thought he was sick. He’s not normally this affectionate towards people,” she beams. Her hands are all over the place as she tells me this story. I can see how much she cares about Alek, and the thought touches me. “Please try to understand, Erin. All of this monogamy stuff is new to him. He’s so scared. And he’s not exactly the type to go telling people about things like that.”
“Things are more complicated than you realize, Adriana.”
“What difference does it make? You two care about each other. I’ll even be the one to say, I believe you’ve fallen for each other. But both of you are too stubborn and just more stubborn to admit it. Some people search a lifetime to find what you have with my brother. Look at my parents.” She mutters a string of words in Russian as she shakes her head.
“Are you cursing me out without telling me?” I ask, giving her a knowing side glance.
“Maybe,” she answers, but playfully rolls her eyes.
“What he—the things he told me…damn it.” I can’t get my thoughts together. Adriana’s the kind of person who knows how to work her way through the deepest parts of your resolve to remain a hard ass. I suspect that’s how she has gotten as far as she has with Luca. I fully understand Alek’s desire to protect his baby sister. She has a uniquely positive outlook on life.
And I do believe that it’s contagious.
Sighing loudly, she glances at her watch. “I have to go. Got to get to rehearsals for Seraphine’s next showing. Will you think about what I said? Please?” She stands, walks over to me, and throws her arms around my neck. This simple gesture hits my chest. I don’t want her to leave. She’s a hell of lot better than sitting around and smoking Virginia Slims all day.
“What is that awful smoke smell?” she asks, leaning back and sniffing around my face. I figured she would ask about it at some point. “You don’t smoke, do you?”
“Course not,” I lie, standing. “I need some time to think.”
“You’ve had five days while you’ve been locked up in this house. People are ready to camp outside your doorstep.” She squints and then makes the fish-lip face only Adriana knows how to do so well. We both laugh. It feels good to be free of tears and smoke. “Why don’t you get out of here for a bit? Go downtown, sit in the park and read a magazine, or something. That always works for me. I remember now. Alek told me how you like sitting by that old fountain in front of the Sforza Castle. What’s it called again?”
“The Castello Fountain. That’s actually a good idea. I just might do that later on today.” I enjoy watching the evening lights settle over the water structures, especially the Castello Fountain because it reminds me of a waterfall.
At some point, I have to face the living. Even through all of the darkness I’ve surrounded myself with over the past five days, I still want to live. I’ll never just give up again. Jada’s memory deserves better than to be tainted by someone who doesn’t appreciate all she left behind. I finger the butterfly hanging around my neck. I haven’t taken it off since Alek and I split up. Whatever magic his sister holds has worked on me.
“Thank you, Adriana. I’ll think about what you’ve told me today,” I say goodbye to a person who has become as essential as my own sister was in my old life.