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“Don’t.” My voice silenced him as Aleks’s hand had done earlier. “We’re entitled to our opinions of each other. Let’s get on with what we’re here to do.”
“You have me wrong,” he started, but I walked away. He dimpled his way round Mr. Timms and soon had Sun, Will and I up on the stage of the theatre to “do something very modern, you will be liking very much.” He dismissed the others, telling them they could watch if they wanted, which seemed rather unfair.
The choreography was different from anything we’d done before, technically challenging and strange. The afternoon sped by; the cold detachment Pasha wanted us to show expressed a remote sadness, and he partnered well in the discordant piece.
“Oh, Bravo!” Colin had chosen to watch. “That was quite remarkable. Miss Treadwell. You really do shine in everything you do.”
“She is a surprise, this one, is she not?” agreed Pasha.
I shaded my eyes against the lights and saw Aleks sitting out there too, leaning on his hand as if gnawing his fingers.
“Have we run over?” My question was defunct. Obviously we had; even Michelle was in the audience.
“It’s not a problem,” she said at once. “I would love to see that again, monitored.” She held up the hateful little box of tricks. “It’s the most interesting thing I’ve seen for a while.” She dismissed Will and Sun and came up the steps to affix the resented stickers to my head. They always tugged at my hair.
“You are wanting to study my parts also?” Pasha dimpled at her.
Michelle shook her head. “There’s nothing of any use to me in any of your parts.”
Not remotely put out, Pasha turned his attention to Aleks. “For what is she still here?” he asked, pointing at me. “The boy too.” He indicated Will, who was now walking across the auditorium on his way to dinner. “They are ready for start dance. Is not Ukraine, nor is it Russia. They do not need to be absolute perfection.”
“Is far more to it than that,” Aleks replied. “The stronger the technique, the less prone to injury. Is more training to be done, and confidence to be found.”
“Ha!” said Pasha, pointing at Aleks and taking my hand. “I had this all the wrong way turning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, totally fed up of people and their sly digs.
“I am saying nothing,” he said, and mimed zipping his lips shut.
“Good, then let’s see it,” said Michelle.
We performed the sequence for her, Pasha at once becoming cold and aloof through the brief embraces, though it felt more intimate in Will and Sun’s absence.
Frustration grew as Michelle removed the monitors afterwards. It was difficult not to bat her hands away.
Colin came onto the stage and started discussing me with Pasha, blocking the stairs that led to Aleks who remained stock still in his chair. Eventually they made their leisurely way down into the auditorium and through to dinner, leaving me free to hug my love from behind, kiss his cheek and tell him I was sorry.
“Is nothing for to be sorry,” he said. “This was good for you, new and stimulating. Everyone gets what they need, everything is okay.” The flat voice belied the thumbs up gesture that punctuated his words.
“It’s not, though.” I stood in front of him and took his hands. “I missed my best class with you, and you’re upset.”
He stood up and pushed my hands away as if laying them down firmly. “You should be concerned about what is best for yourself, and clearly that is his class on stage today. You must not be worrying about others getting upset. This attitude is useless. You are wrong to think you cannot be single minded. Look at ‘just us.’ Sometimes, like here this afternoon, you can make it ‘just this’ and—”
“No, you need to stop telling me what to think.” Anger flounced me out the door.
He caught up in the corridor. “Malphia, stop. I am sorry.”
“Well don’t be. I’m fed up of everyone being so frigging sorry. You all have a right to think and feel whatever you want, but so do I.”
“Look,” he said. “Lessons are over. We are not student and teacher now. Let’s go out for dinner. You and me, no one else. Yes?”
“I’m too angry.” I paused a second before the blurt. “I need to go to bed first.”
“You want to make love? Now?” A short questioning dance took place across his eyebrows and mouth.
“Not exactly.” I took a deep breath and expressed what was best for myself in the moment. “I want to have sex with you. Angry sex.”
His laugh was completely infuriating.
