Act Two

XIX

" (1) *Commencer!" Madame Drozdova claps her petite hands together. Immediately, the small group of ballerinas begin their warm-up at the barre. First and foremost, Madame walks them through the exercise in front of the mirrors. "In the sixth position let's warm up our feet and press-over." The students follow along and eventually they move on with their warm-up. "First position, Pliés. Demi and stretch, Demi, and stretch." Lilia joins and mirrors the instructor for the students, making it easier for them to follow. Quiet giggles from the younger students break the tension in the classroom. It is always so serious in a ballet studio, a little lighthearted fun never hurts. The sound of bustling wind from the mid-winter air blows through the narrow streets outside the old brick building. It cancels out all noise from inside the dance studio, pooling a female's senses.

The howl of the wind is enough to send a shiver down her spine on its own. Lilia hates the cold. She hates the thought of the cold, and she hates to be cold. An icy floor underneath her head bit her pale skin as it lost most of its color, eating away at it. A feeling she hopes to never experience again. The feeling of being trapped, unable to leave the stage, and the spotlight. Failure in front of the eyes of hundreds, if not thousands, sounds worse than being a victim to extreme frostbite. Trudging in heavy snowfall, feet barely able to hop and run through the tall mounds, a sudden loss of footing sent the child crashing into a pile. With tears freezing to her cheeks in the negative temperatures, one last wail left her sore, constricted throat, lost in the wind.

Raised chill bumps soon disappear from pale skin, replaced with a thick and hot sensation. The conscious mistakes it for passing through a cramped sauna with heavy humidity slapping across one's face. Small tingles form around the neck, trailing down to the collarbones before moving up once more. One final tingle on the edge of a plump bottom lip is enough to alert the mind awake from the restful dream it was previously enduring. That is definitely the first time the green-eyed brunette has experienced a dream about her partner so vividly and realistic. Unfortunately, the tingles and warm sensations don't last long enough for her to savor. However, a sting burns at the right side of her neck. Raising a hand up, the tips of her long fingers graciously brush past the heated patch of skin, bringing the corners of her lips to twitch up into a gentle grin.

How long has it been?

Keeping her hand in place out of self-comfort, the young woman slowly rolls over to her side and peeks towards the door. The silhouette of the dirty-blonde comes into view, a towel wrapped and tucked around his narrow waist as he enters the room. A dusting of rose sprinkles over her cheeks, waiting for his presence back in the bed they currently share. It's been a long night and the morning is only beginning even if she does not want it to. Lilia would much rather stay under the covers for a bit longer and stay warm from the bitter cold outside the small home. Before Yakov is able to sit back down and hold the woman in his arms, his silhouette gradually fades away into the darkness of her bedroom. Only a single beam of light trails into the (2) *8"x10" room, shining in from the streetlamp outside.

It feels like an eternity since she has seen the man she holds feelings for. Even for only being a week, it's no fun to wait until the next meeting. Patience is a hard thing to become used to dealing with. Lilia has been working on it for many years now but still has trouble understanding that it will arrive eventually. Waiting to see someone who makes you feel as if you're the most important being in the universe, that is where things become a tad more frustrating. All she has to remember him "bye" are the feeling of his lips on hers and the sound of his voice in her ear when he is not certain if she is still awake but continues to talk anyway. All she wants right now is a hug from Yakov and a view into his eyes. Those eyes will be the death of her if it is not ballet first.

One roll is enough to sit up in bed and watch out the narrow window, down at the lonely street below. She does not remember much from her dream besides being in Yakov's presence in a quiet environment. Lilia wishes she owned a photograph of him to hang in her flat and admire whenever she feels lonely. To be able to stare into his blue irises for as long as she needs and not feel embarrassed about it. His eyes will forever be special. More than he understands. "They're nothing special." he would say, only to cause Lilia to disagree immediately. Some day she will obtain a photo of him. Maybe his mother can mail embarrassing baby pictures of her son just for her own pleasure? Yakov would hate it but hopefully, it would be kept a secret.