Of course he did.
“Three minutes,” he reminds me as we come to a stop at my bedroom.
I nod. “I just need different clothes. I’ll be quick. I’m not missing this.”
Nico searches my face, probably looking for doubt that he won’t find.
“Good.”
Chapter Fourteen
Anya
Aunt Irina shows up bright and early for yoga. Well, early for visitors, anyway. It’s 8:30 a.m. when I lead her into my old ballet studio to get started. The large space is perfect for so many things, but dancing and yoga especially.
It has tall windows that let in copious amounts of sunlight, and the lightly stained wood floors compliment the morning ambiance. It’s even better for dancing at night, with the moon shining in and the low hint of blue in the sky. I haven’t experienced that view in far too long, and I probably never will again.
I only worked up to starting yoga five months ago, after all. My doctors all recommended exercise to help my body regulate on new medicine, but my fear of having asthma attacks steered me far away from picking my ballet shoes back up.
Yoga is relaxing, and can be done at any level of difficulty. The same can’t be said for ballet, at least not for me. Dancing to me has always been more than exercise. It’s a demanding art form, and once you meet the level of excellence that I achieved,it’s depressing to regress. And I can’t regress if I simply don’t try again.
“This is so exciting,” my aunt sings, walking into the middle of the room with me. There’s a pep in her step that has her blonde ponytail bouncing as she moves. “I never get to wear my pretty sets anywhere but home. I feel so sporty.”
I meet her smile with an attempt at one of my own. I’m more nervous than I should be, but her energy is helpful. It’s not calming, or infectious, but it’s nice to see. I love my aunt, and I like to make the people I love happy—though I haven’t been able to do very much of that lately.
“It’s a very cute set,” I tell her truthfully, looking at the clothing from top to bottom to assure her of my point. She’s wearing a baby-blue pair of leggings and a matching tight but long-sleeved top. Even her trainers match, with light blue and white accents.
She beams, waving a hand in front of me. “Yours is adorable too.”
I try not to let my smile fade as I shrug. My outfit is less of a workout set, and more of a suit of armor. Everything I wear is perfectly crafted to hide my discomfort areas. Scars, and curves of any kind. Though I have a small build, since my activity level has decreased, I’ve grown in more areas than one. I hate seeing the more womanly parts of myself—parts that were so greatly harmed in the past.
And despite how much I enjoy this space, it’s hard to avoid seeing everything in front of the wall of mirrors in my studio. There’s no hiding from such a large reflection, and I’ve learned that lesson quite well. So instead of a skintight cute set of leggings and a top, I do my yoga in sweatpants and a light sweater. Not so depressingly, they’re both in my favorite colors. White bottoms, and a lilac purple top.
When you can’t fully enjoy your clothes, it’s always nice to have at least one thing you like about them. In my case, I typically aim for two. Comfort and color.
“Is there anything specific you want to do?” I ask, rolling out my purple mat next to her blue one. “I normally put an instructor on the projector so it’s more like a class, but we can do anything.”
“A class sounds fun,” Irina agrees, nodding happily. “As long as we do some cool down stretching after so we can chit-chat. I’ve missed our girl time,solnyshka.”
Sunshine. She’s called me that since I was a toddler.
“I’ve missed it too,” I admit quietly.
Before either of us can get too emotional, I remotely pull up an easy lesson on my phone and send it to the projector. Typically, I’d do a more difficult routine, but with my already racing nerves, I don’t want to make myself panic if I exert too much energy too quickly.
For almost forty minutes, my aunt and I go from pose to pose, and stretch to stretch, taking little designated water breaks in between. We hardly talk, aside from little comments as we go, trying to focus on keeping up with the video.
When it’s finally over, I’ve worked up a decent sheen of sweat, and my muscles feel languid and strong rather than sore. Aunt Irina is breathing harder than I am, but I still keep the thought of my inhaler in the back of my mind in case I need it. I bring it everywhere with me, even though my father has several stashed around the house. He keeps one on himself, too, no matter if we’re near or far.
“That was the most I’ve moved in days,” Irina huffs, laying back on her mat to catch her breath. “How often are you doing yoga? I think I need to take after you, you’re barely sweating.”
I laugh lightly at her exaggerated expression and criss cross my legs to sit facing her on my mat. “I do a video or two at leastthree times a week, sometimes four. It’s good for my medicine, at least they say it is. I like it though. I hope it wasn’t too much?”
“No definitely not too much,” she rushes out, shaking her head. “I’ve been slacking with keeping up my activities. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with Nadya before she left and most of that time was shopping and movie marathons. We were very naughty, it was the best. Your Uncle Lev was not best pleased by all the snack-ish dinners. He missed his steaks.”
“He acts like he can’t just order whatever he wants,” I joke, almost rolling my eyes. For a hardened enforcer, the man can pout like no one else.
Aunt Irina giggles. “That’s what I told him!”
