Black Ice

  Depression is being colorblind and constantly told how colorful the world is.

  --Atticus

  Prologue

  “Are you okay?”

  Everyone always asks that question. What they mean is, are you over it yet? As if this is something you can simply “get over”. Like you can sleep it off or eat better and it’ll change. But it’s always there. It lingers, no matter how hard you smile. No matter how great things are around you. It’s there. And it casts the darkest shadow.

  “No.” I muttered into the receiver.

  “Well, things will get better. Just give it time.”

  Time. How much time? I had felt like this my entire life. If I gave it any more time then it would rob me of everything. Maybe It already had.

  “I-I feel alone.”

  “Alone? Sage you’re not alone. You’re just down. It will past. You’ll see.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I am. Now get rest. We will see each other soon.”

  In my dark bedroom, I sat the phone on my desk. Then I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. There, I slide to the cold tile floor and I waited. To not feel alone anymore. To not feel anything ever again.

  Chapter 1

  Sage

  “Ronde de jambe!” Madame Mercier shouts for the third time.

  She’s pissed off. It’s hard to tell because her heavily Botox injected face gives nothing away. However, her tone is thick and biting. I put my focus into the quick action, thinking of ways that this will improve my figure skating. The benefits are endless, so I have to get everything right.

  “I said Ronde de jambe!”

  I look at the other women after circling my leg as I was told. Can’t they see how pissed off she is getting? But no, they don’t. They stand beside me in their leotards, like prim ballerina statues. Their gazes may be transfixed in the mirror a head of us, but they aren’t looking at their reflections. A tall man, in dark jeans and a black leather jacket is suddenly leaning against the studio door. His presence steals away everyone’s focus now, including mine.

  Recognition sets in. My breath catches in my throat. Time can change a lot about a person. It wrinkles skin. It turns hair grey. Gives you teeth and then takes them away. It plays with the body and sometimes the mind. But the eyes, they’re always the same. It’s been a year since I’ve looked into his stark blue gaze, and nothing has changed.

  It’s a good thing that my body has naturally gone back to Première Position. My heels and knees together with my legs turned out and away from my hips, is the only thing keeping me upright. I cast my eyes down to my arms. They tingle beneath my long-sleeved, black leotard for reasons I don’t want to recall. He smiles at me. And a sudden unspeakable pain grips me by the throat. It’s unnerving to see him after all this time.

  “Sage,” I hear my coach, Dean Schultz say as he shuffles in as well. “Can I talk to you?”

  I don’t need to answer. My unlikely rescuer stands with her feet in fourth position and both hands on her hips. A deep scowl sets in on Madame Mercier’s face. As far as off ice practice goes, ballet is my favorite. Madame Mercier is normally as sweet as pie. However, there is one rule that everyone knows not to break. No class interruptions. When you do, you pay the price.

  “Gentleman, you are distracting my class. You cant talk to Sage after.”

  “It’s important.” Dean contests.

  “You’re in my house, Mr. Schultz. I deem what is important. And right now, I’m looking for a perfect ronde de jambe en l’air combination.” Her hands clap together ferociously garnering my attention. “Ready yourself, Mrs. Parker.”

  I nod once. Everyone’s eyes are on me now as I grip the barre and prepare myself to follow Madame’s stern voice. I must perform to her every word and the pressure is there for me to do it better than anyone else. I always have to be better.

  I’m the only black girl here. I hear the whispers. They all wonder why I’m here instead of in the hip hop class down the hall. Some of them snicker at my curly hair in a messy bun. Others laugh at my thick thighs and shapely ass. But I have to block them out. I have to perform.

  “Now.” Madame begins with one firm clap.

  I nod and listen to her quick cues.

  “And Deux Plie, front and back and front, come up and out and out, a double out to plie and back and front.”

  I return to first position to a gracious round of applause from Madame.

  “Marvelous! Are you sure you aren’t truly a ballerina masquerading as a figure skater? Sage, you’re my best student.”

  In the mirror I catch Kennedy’s side eye as she breaks position and folds her arms over her chest. Her best friend Danielle doesn’t have time to be annoyed. She’s patting down her red hair and drooling at the ghost of my past. He who doesn’t deserve to be named.

  Dean clears his throat. “It will just be a moment.”

  “A moment too long. You may speak with Sage after. Until then, the viewing room is upstairs. I suggest the two of you make use of it.”

  Before Dean gets another word out, he’s stopped by the roll of a deep Russian tone.

  “Madame Mercier is right. This can wait.”

  Out of relief I glance up. It’s a mistake. I’m instantly caught by his heavy and mesmerizing stare. I nearly break position. I want to grab my things and force my way out of here. But I won’t give him the satisfaction. I won’t let him know that he still has an affect on me.

  “I will take you up on that offer Madame. It’s important to know what I am getting myself into.” He winks and adds with a boyish grin. “I’ll be watching you, Sage.”

  Does everyone hear the sound of my heart hammering out of my chest? Just me? I look around for confirmation. Then, I place my attention back on Madame. The class resumes. The men shuffle out. I don’t dare look up toward the ceiling where the viewing room sits on the second floor. I can feel the heat of his dark gaze. I feel him in places I’ve tried to forget.

  You can’t forget me, Sage. I’m with you. You’re with me.

  I shake my head and fight to clear those whispered words. He was wrong. Up until now, I have forgotten him. Up until now, I’ve been just fine. I don’t know what Dean is playing at, but before he can drag me in, I’m out. I won’t have any part of Yuri Meshkov and I won’t give him any part of me. Never again.

  Yuri

  You can hardly call this watching. I’m hypnotized. It takes everything in me to not press myself against the glass in hopes of a closer look. Her pirouettes have induced a hard trance over my mind. They’re perfect in my eyes. She isn’t very tall and yet her extensions give length to her body in just the right ways. It’s all natural to Sage. Every movement flows like water. She manages to make it look so effortless.

  Yet I know it has taken her plenty of hard work to get to this point. I was there the first time she took to the ice. I wiped the tears from her face. She was younger then. And so unsure of herself. She needed a friend and by the grace of God I was there.

  When her turns come to a stop her arms bow out in front of her waist. Her body freezes as the other girls around her begin to find their marks. She can feel me watching and she confirms it by tilting her head and finding my gaze. Those eyes. Hazel in color, they are round and troubled like the entire world has settled there. She’s not a young child. I’ve watched her grow over the years. But those eyes, they’re still the same. Fuck. I’d hope that the light would have returned to them by now. I guess I was wrong.

  Sage turns away to find her mark with the other women. Air fills my lungs again. A year later and I still can’t breathe when she looks at me. I press my hand to the glass and for the first-time wonder, if coming here was a good idea. It sounded good all six hundred times
I went over it in my head. But right now, I can’t be sure. I just know I don’t want to hurt her again. And I don’t want her to look at me like she just did. Like I already have. Damn it. I just want to go back. Back to the night we met. Back to the day she looked at me like I was her hero, her friend, someone she could trust. I’d give anything for that. I wanted to save her and protect her. But her pain was inevitable. I just couldn’t see it then.

  ##

  “I can do this. I’m a blackbird. I’m a blackbird.” That’s what she chanted to herself as tears riddled her cheeks. “I’m a blackbird. I can do this.”

  For a few minutes, I stood across the waiting deck and watched her and her unusual ritual. First, she checked her skates. Then chanted to herself. And then checked her skates again. Over and over. It was clear to me then, she had no confidence. So, why was she here? And what the hell did this have to do with a blackbird? I shouldn’t care. I was seventeen with other things on my mind. I was here to win. But I looked at Sage and I was drawn to her trembling frame. She reminded me of someone else. A little girl back home that I loved.

  I guessed their ages to be the same. Thirteen maybe fourteen if that. But no older, I was sure. She was close to my little sister’s age. That meant that we were just a few years apart. Unlike her, I’d been in this world for a long time now. Often the glitz and glamour ended in the rink. Beyond the ice was a system not made for her or I.

  For some reason, even back then, I thought that I could shelter her from it. Protect her the way any big brother would his little sister. That’s what drove me to abandon my own pre-skate ritual and talk to her.

  “What happened?” I pointed to the ripped piece of her skirt.

  Sage shrugged clutching the material as her eyes filled with more tears. She didn’t have to say anything. I looked around and saw two girls snickering and whispering. I knew then what had been done.

  “They ripped it?”

  She nodded and held her head low. My heart broke right then and there. Jealousy had reared it’s ugly head and she wasn’t ready. Who ever was? I checked the time and headed over to my coach. I ignored the side-eye he gave me when he handed me the needle and thread that I demanded. I only had a few minutes to try and repair the damage done to her skirt. I would have to explain to him later.

  “I can fix that.” I told her threading the needle in the nearly dark box.

  Sage looked up and the heartbreak was worse. Those eyes should never cry. She looked so sweet and innocent. I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so hateful. She sat in a trance as I knelt beside her and worked the delicate material. My mother and grandmother were seamstresses. They taught me everything I knew.

  “What does this mean?” I questioned her suddenly. “ You say, you are a blackbird?”

  Startled, Sage jumped and turned big, round and confused hazel eyes on me.

  “What?” She mumbled nervously.

  “You say, you are little blackbird. What does this mean?”

  “Beatles.”

  Birds? Beetles? She’s a strange child, I thought to myself. None of those things have anything to do with skating.

  “How do you know how to do that?” She asked feebly.

  “My mother and my grandmother taught me. Not many people know that I can do this. So I hope you can keep secret.” I smiled and she gave me a smile of her own.

  “So, why are you this bird beetle?”

  “It’s a song.” She clarified with a small chuckle. “By the Beatles.”

  I stood to examine my quick work. It looked even better than I expected.

  “I don’t know of this.”

  She gasped covering her mouth with both hands. “You don’t know the Beatles!?”

  “The song.” I said as I took a seat beside her.

  I felt like the giant Goliath hovering over her. She was just too small and I didn’t want her to be afraid of me. I normally prided myself on that with others, I didn’t want the same effect on Sage.

  “Oh…my Mother,” She continued excitedly. “She used to sing that to me…before she got sick. She doesn’t sing a lot now. She’s too tired.” Sage went quiet. Like a rollercoaster, her high fell into a fast low.

  “I’m sorry.” I touched her arm and she flinched.

  I drew my hand back quickly, wondering if I’d hurt her somehow.

  “In the song, the bird has a broken wing, but it doesn’t stop him, he still flies. I was born with a broken wing.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her the way I did with Galina whenever she told a fib. I got the same reaction my little sister always gave.

  “Well a broken arm.” Sage giggled. “Anyway, Mom said I would fly too one day.” Her voice lowered to just above a whisper. “But umm… she’s been too sick to see me skate. Now there isn’t anyone to cheer for me.”

  “No one?”

  “I have an Aunt and Uncle. They see me sometimes.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Something came up…like always. Last year, they sent me to live with this host family because it would be better for my training but…it’s like I’m not theirs anymore. I don’t belong to anyone.”

  The light was out of her eyes. Her shoulders were hunched. Without warning her dark hair turns blonde and a giant red bow sits at the back of her ponytail. Now I really do see my little sister. The vision goes as quickly as it came.

  “There is no one else to take care of you?”

  “Well I have Dean. But he kinda has to be here, you know? He’s my coach.”

  Suddenly, the lights dimmed low around the rink as the next skater took the ice. Sage looked over at the clock and trembled again. Her fingers reached out and clasp around my wrist. She seemed so delicate even then.

  “I’m next. I-I-I-I can’t do this. I’m scared. They’re all going to laugh.”

  I quit staring at her small hand and how surprisingly strong her grip is and then I shock myself. My finger tips her chin toward me so that those sparkling eyes are on me.

  “No bird flew by staying in the nest. You have to try.”

  Sage nodded but the doubt still lingered. I could feel it as if it were my own.

  “Hold on.”

  My eyes scanned the pit quickly. On the floor beneath the bench, I snatched up a black pen. She watched intently as I rolled up my sleeve and drew a black bird on my wrist.

  “You will go and I will cheer for you. You are with me…” I pulled her arm and pushed her sleeve up. I hesitated for a moment. There were lines there. Faint but purposeful lines that blemished her toffee colored skin.

  I looked back into her eyes. They held so much. Too much for such a young girl. I couldn’t think. All I could do was push the pen delicately into her skin. I drew over her scars an image of my mother’s favorite flower. I placed it high on her wrist where I was sure the sequins in her dress would cover.

  “And I will be with you. It’s the Viola Incisa. My mother’s favorite flower…and mine. Found in Siberia. Where I was born.”

  “Thank you.” She muttered quietly staring at the image I’d drawn.

  “Sage—,”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “You are all anyone is talking about.” I wiped her tears. “That’s why they ripped your dress. They’re afraid of you, little bird.”

  She nodded, and I could tell that I had her full attention as she gazed up at me. “Never let them see you cry. They do not deserve your tears. And you don’t have to be afraid. I am here now. I’ll cheer for you.”

  Shock rippled in the pools of her round gaze. “Really? You will?”

  “Yes. Why not?” I asked, just a bit offended by her disbelief.

  “B-because you’re Yuri Meshkov. You probably have better things to do.”

  “Right now. I am just your biggest fan.”

  That won a smile from Sage. And that smile warmed me as her eyes moved back to the clock.

  “We have the same birthday.” She announced to me. “If you’re going to be my biggest
fan, then you should know that.”

  “I’m honored to share the day with you.”

  “And I’m allergic to peanuts.”

  I placed my hand over my heart. “I won’t forget it.”

  “Thanks.” She giggled then looked down at her skates sheepishly. “My mother said that I’m going to be the best figure skater in the world. Even better than you.”

  “Did she now?”

  “Yes. And she’s right. I will be.”

  “We’ll see.” I chuckled, helping her to her feet. Sage’s bluntness took me by surprise. People of any age were rarely that bold with me. So, to have a thirteen year-old look you in the eye and tell you they were better, it was laughable.

  I followed her gaze as her eyes darted to the clock again. She trembled with her hand still in mine, biting her nails as she looked over at the snickering pair of girls.

  “Breathe in. Breath out.” I told her. “You have something more than them. Talent can not be bought. It doesn’t discriminate.”

  She nodded and surprised me again by wrapping her thin arms around my waist. I didn’t look around to see who had noticed. I didn’t care because I wanted to be there for her. So, I returned the hug with brotherly affection.

  “Everyone calls you, Yuri the terrible.” She whispered. “They say that you’re the meanest.”

  I looked down into her oval face.

  “Do you believe everything you hear?”

  She pulled out of our embrace and shook her head.

  “No. People are stupid.”

  “Very.” I agreed. “Go quickly. You need to be in box.”

  “Okay…thank you for everything.”

  Sage squeezed me again and smiled all the way there. I watched from afar as she lifted her sleeve and look at the flower on her arm. Then she checked behind her. I was there. When she finally took the ice, I stood exactly where I knew she would see me. Her smile brightened when our eyes met across the rink. That’s when the music started. Her arms unfolded like the elegant wings of a dove. Then she moved gracefully across the ice, opening her first ever performance with a triple Axel and triple Toe combination like I’d never seen. I knew then that Sage was born for this. Her performance was the evidence. She was pure magic. Far beyond anything I’d ever seen or anything that I had ever done.