pursue the circus over music. But they still bought me my first violin. And maybe it wasn’t the support I needed, but it was better than nothing.” He taps his thumb against his leg. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who don’t get any encouragement at all. Musicians who never find instruments. Artists who never find paintbrushes. Readers who aren’t able to find books.” He looks up gently.
“And aerialists who aren’t given the key to their parents’ circus gym.” I make a face.
Vas nods. “That too.”
“I can’t tell if she sends these emails to make me feel guilty, or because she’s trying to show me all the different ways she cares,” I say. I wonder if that’s part of the problem—that I’ve only ever seen my parents in black and white.
I believe in gray areas. I live in the gray area. But when it comes to my parents, I guess it’s always been easier to put them in boxes.
Even though I hate boxes.
Because the problem with boxes is that they don’t give people any room to grow.
“Maybe she’s trying to find a way to be present in your life,” he says. “Relationships are like most living things—if you don’t nurture them, they’ll die.”
“No sugarcoating that one, huh?” I raise a brow.
He leans in closely, and I feel my heart thump. “I’m Russian. We like to get to the point.” And then he kisses me, and my heart turns to mush.
Nashville, Tennessee November—Week 14
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
On Monday I start counting down the days until our big performance.
Three days to go.
On Tuesday we see our costumes for the first time.
Two days to go.
On Wednesday Vas and I have our final dress rehearsal.
One day to go.
On Thursday I step outside, see the big top in the distance, and feel all the pieces of my life fitting into place.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
CHAPTER SIXTY
My costume is cream and gold, with a seemingly infinite number of sparkles. Vas’s is similar, but in black and silver. We are night and day, shadow and light.
The evening star and the morning star.
When I look at myself in the mirror, my hair knotted up in twin buns and my makeup done to perfection, I search for Mom.
Is this what she looked like before a performance?
Did her heart come to life the way mine does?
Was she nervous?
Excited?
Terrified?
I’m almost afraid to know the answer. Because if she felt what I feel now, it makes everything worse. It means she would’ve known what I’d be missing out on, and she tried to stop me anyway. And if she never felt the way I do? If she didn’t love the circus the way I do?
Then I feel bad for her. Because she’s lived her whole life never knowing what this kind of euphoria feels like.
Vas appears over my shoulder, holding a ceramic flowerpot full of miniature bubblegum-pink orchids. He smiles sheepishly, his eyes darkened with stage makeup. “I’ve always thought it was kind of weird to give someone a bouquet of dead flowers, but it’s opening night, so I hope these are okay.”
I turn around, frowning. “Dead flowers?”
“I mean, they’ve been hacked off from their roots. So yeah—dead.” He holds the pot toward me. “But these are still alive and well, and they’ll last longer too.”
I laugh, taking the orchids from him and setting them on the table. “Thank you. I love them.”
He nods. “How are you feeling?”
I lock my fingers together and stand up, taking a deep breath and grinning wildly. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”
Vas smiles back, and my heart does somersaults.
* * *
When the music starts, my nerves come alive. I feel like my blood is full of a trillion microscopic beads of electricity. I’m pacing in circles, jumping in place, inhaling big gulps of air.
Vas takes my hand and squeezes. “I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”
I grin. “I’d kiss you anyway, but I don’t want to ruin yours.”
I can hear the cheering from the audience. The laughter, too. It reverberates through the big top like a stampede of wildebeests through a canyon.
And then it’s our turn, and suddenly I can’t hear a thing.
I just see Vas, moving beside me like we’re both floating toward the center of the ring.
I close my eyes, let everything go, and breathe.
* * *
We are light and skin and water and magic. My breath echoes in my ears. I’m sure my heart is hidden there too.
We move together. Exist together. And every second