Her head snapped up, and any spot of color on her cheeks had disappeared. There was a look in eyes riveted on the dark-chocolate cookie in my right hand that had nothing to do with the struggle to make her choice of dessert. It was almost as if I’d asked if she wanted to choose between Heaven and Hell. Sliding the cookies back into their sleeve, I set them down and stood. Walking around the desk, I didn’t speak until I’d scooped her up and taken her seat with her on my lap.
“Okay, enough. What the hell is going on, and don’t you dare tell me it’s nothing or that you’re fine. You are about as far from fine as I’ve ever seen,” I said, plucking the half-eaten sandwich from her fingers and tossing it on my desk. I wasn’t going to give her a chance to hide behind anything even if it was just a slice of rye.
It took a moment, but she finally said, “It’s my babushka. She… she’s not doing very well.”
I often forgot Clara had a Russian heritage as she had no discernible accent. It was only when she spoke the language I remembered. I also remembered Baker telling me one of the unknown good things Clara had been doing for years was taking care of her ailing grandmother. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said as I could clearly see the sorrow in her eyes. “If you need any time off or anything, then tell me and I’ll get it taken care of. I can work the rehearsal schedule around you. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.” She gave me another soft smile but said, “She actually has an appointment to determine if she’d be suitable to participate in a trial for a new arthritis drug. I can’t stop worrying they’ll find some reason to deny her entry into the program. She needs relief even though she keeps stating she’s fine. Every day I see her moving a bit slower.” She paused and said, “Thank you again for hooking me up with the list of caregivers. It took a few of them, but we finally found one whom I trust and who doesn’t cave under Baba’s nonsense. I would love to attend every appointment with her, but I know I need to keep up with rehearsals. The performance might have gone well, but Yuri keeps reminding me I’m still not up to my best physical shape.”
“Yuri would say that regardless,” I said. “He’s not a man to ever offer much praise or allow anybody any slack, so if you really feel you need to take your grandmother—”
“No, it’s fine. Judy, our nurse, can take her, and besides, your brother is right. I’m getting close, but I’m not ready to pirouette across any Broadway stage yet.”
Broadway.
There was more than one theater with the designation of Broadway. One right around the corner from the Volkov Ballet, in fact, and while Clara hadn’t specified which one, she needed to know the committee from New York had some concerns. While Yuri and I hadn’t yet made the announcement to the company, yesterday we’d learned of their favorable decision to offer our company the coveted spot on their schedule. Despite the fact the committee members might have had a change of heart, it was likely they, and others, could be assholes to Clara. I didn’t want her to go in blind. As a dancer, she didn’t need to be bothered with all the business aspects, but I also didn’t want to keep her in the dark.
“Look” —I pulled her in a little closer to me— “I have some stuff I need to talk to you about. But I’d rather not do it right now.” I decided the talk about New York and what the committee members had said would be better left for when Clara didn’t seem so upset. “Can we meet up later on to discuss it?”
She nodded slowly, as if something was plaguing her mind and she didn’t like that idea. I suddenly had the thought that perhaps she thought I was asking her out on a date, and that wasn’t what she wanted at all. How fucking embarrassing! Baker had also told me there were stories of how she’d literally screwed around… a lot, though those stories had faded away a couple of years ago. I wasn’t some asshole who held a double standard between men and women and their sex lives. As long as they weren’t in a committed relationship, I really didn’t give a shit how many people a person partnered with. Maybe Clara had only desired a good fuck and then wanted to move on.
“It’s work stuff,” I said quickly, wondering why it seemed I was just making it worse. “What I mean is you don’t have to worry. It’s nothing personal.”