Page 32 of Natasha
"The same friend who sorted out Peachtree?"
Natasha nodded but said nothing. She looked away from her mother to see that the director was flouncing around the room, his arms akimbo and eyes flashing while his mouth moved at an impossible speed. She rolled her eyes at the little man. There was nothing more annoying than a director who acted as if he understood body movement. At least her girls weren't betraying their feelings, and she was proud to see that they were all standing at attention with perfect poise and posture. Even if she hated the jewel box room, she'd done right by them as a teacher. They were all talented and composed young ladies. Natasha only hoped that she had shielded them from enough, but somehow she didn't think it would matter if they opted to continue on as ballerinas. She cut her eyes to the side where her mother was now standing beside her with a broad smile on her face from the news that she was finally dating someone, or maybe it hadn't been that Natasha had needed protection as a dancer, maybe she'd need someone to shield her from her family.
"It's so hard to not fall for a dashing hero," her mother was saying with a little sigh. She turned to Natasha, her hand on her chest like a southern belle.
"Ah, yes," Natasha answered hesitantly.
"Spectacular." Olya gave a little tittering laugh. "I'll bet he's beautiful."
Natasha blushed, her mother's statement conjuring up the image of Silas standing naked, unashamed, and ringed in a halo of light in his bedroom the previous morning. "He is," she answered truthfully.
Her mother slipped an arm around Natasha's shoulder and squeezed her tightly. "Good, good. You deserve a little fun, you know?" She winked at Natasha conspiratorially.
"Mama, he isn't just fun."
Olya shrugged. "Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. Your father was a bit of fun, after all, so who can tell? Do we know him?"
"Well, he's been by the school," Natasha said quietly.
"He has? Who is he?" Her mother left her side already, darting to the filing cabinet that held the records for admitted students.
"Stop that!" Natasha swatted at her mother's hands, but the older woman was already yanking open a drawer with a determined look on her face.
'Is he older?" she asked, her fingertips at the ready to pull files. "Married?"
"Mama!"
Her mother threw her hands out at her sides. "What? I'm not judging. What a cosmopolitan woman chooses to do in her bedroom is fine. All's fair in love and war as they say."
"As who says?" Natasha let out an exasperated sigh. "Mama, he's not married, and he won't be in any of those files. His niece comes here."
"Ohhh, an attentive uncle with a proclivity for protecting damsels in distress."
"Mama, you sound like a riddle master," Natasha said, her voice deadpanned.
Olya rolled her eyes. "You've never known how to have any fun."
"And whose fault is that?" Natasha asked, her spine snapping straight at her mother's flippant remark. "Who made it that I had to be an adult from the time I was able to pirouette."
Her mother swallowed hard. She looked like she was shocked, and for once in her life, Olya Ochenko had nothing to say.
"Natalia," she sighed, her voice quiet. A sudden sadness had entered her eyes at Natasha's biting remark.
"What?" Natasha asked, a blush spreading over her cheeks. She hadn't expected the words to come out with the vehemence they had, and now she wasn't sure what she wanted to say next. She swallowed hard and looked at the corner of the room before she said, "You made me this way. You and Babulya."
"I know." Her mother's quiet admittance shocked Natasha, and for a moment, they both dared not move. A delicate silence had settled over the room, but finally, agonizingly, her mother said, "I know I-we did. We only wanted the best for you."
"You never asked me what I wanted," Natasha whispered, her eyes filling with hot tears. She blinked hard against them, willing them not to fall.
"You were a child," her mother said. "Children never know what's good for them."
"And neither did you," Natasha whispered. She closed her eyes briefly and took in a deep breath before continuing on. "Do you know what all that pressure did to me?"
"You were so talented, Natasha!" Her mother darted forward, grabbing her hands. "So much better on your feet than I ever was. I swear, you were, ah…" She stopped, wincing at her own past tense use of the word. "…are. Youarebetter than grandmother."
"What?"
Natasha's mother stepped closer to her, fingers tightening on hers. "You are the most talented out of all of us, Natalia. When I saw my mother dance, it was like watching a queen; she was so graceful and beautiful, but you…" Her mother swallowed hard and let out a little laugh. "…you were like watching a force of nature. I've never seen anyone like you. You could bring an entire audience to tears with the simple turn of your neck." The woman took in a ragged breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "I was so jealous of you."
