Letters from Yelena (30 page)

With love from,

Yelena

Dear Noah,

During the remainder of the time Inessa stayed with me, our conversations were full of plans about our new life. From talking to her, I think my father also sensed a sea change
occurring in the relationship between her and me. With her moving to England I think he saw that now was the right time to start resolving matters with me. Inessa made some tentative enquiries
about him and me speaking on the phone, properly speaking on the phone, unlike the few, stilted conversations we had had during those early days in the hospital, and a few days later, he called
me.

At first I didn’t recognise the voice on the end of the phone. It seemed more ragged and timid than I had recalled it being. He asked about my recovery, asked what I thought would happen
now with my career. We leapt between conversational islands, neither of us seemingly wanting to glimpse below at the raging torrent of questions that lay underneath. I felt slightly resentful of
his sudden interest in me now that Inessa was drawing close to me, and yet the possibility of putting aside my bitterness towards him was liberating. Throughout the conversation I tried hard to
remember just what Inessa had said about him, that at the root of all that was a love for us. I tried to connect that sentiment with the distant voice on the phone. At times I could sense that what
she had said was true. If it was not enough to solve my reticence, then it did at least feel like somewhere to start.

During that time, Eva came to visit me. She told me that along with another Principal ballerina – one who had trained at the Bolshoi – she’d decided to start a new dance
company in the North East. She said that once I had got back on my feet she would be very keen for me to become deeply involved with it. ‘If we’re going to put decent performances
together I’ll need input from as many experienced dancers as possible,’ she said. She mentioned that she had employed a famous choreographer as a consultant for the new company, and she
intended to learn the skills of her profession from her. ‘You should join me, in being trained by her,’ she said. ‘But only if it would not feel too difficult to become involved
with dancing again, of course.’ I was surprised that someone who appeared so naïve had been able to coordinate a venture so detailed and ambitious. I was full of excitement at the
prospect of being part of this exciting new company, and I realised that I’d underestimated the girl with the wide, innocent eyes and disarming manner. Her expressive, animated demeanour
began to inspire me.

For some reason I didn’t admit that in fact I felt strangely enlightened by the idea of not dancing again. At least being a choreographer would allow me to pursue my love of dance while
avoiding making the sacrifices required to dance myself. I started to wonder if my accident had lit a vague path through the dark woods that I had ultimately found myself in.

Despite her enthusiasm, I did sense in Eva some concern about the psychological difficulties I had experienced. She kept making repeated references to ‘your state of mind’ and how
‘of course, everything depends on that’. When I told her about my sessions with Dr Ibarra, and my plans to live with Inessa, she looked relieved. ‘That all sounds very…
helpful,’ she said.

The sessions with Dr Ibarra seemed to be approaching a resolution. He mentioned that he thought I was almost ready to meet you again, and we finally discussed the possibility of you coming to
visit me. He had come to believe that my ‘psychotic  episode’ had  most  likely  been  a  phenomenon caused by the many upheavals I had been experiencing.
I felt as though I could look back on the place I was in prior to the accident, and feel sorry for the person I was. By confronting my fears, discussing and dissecting the very fabric of my life, I
felt as though years of hardship were finally breaking away. The focal point of our sessions became my imminent discharge and assimilation back into normal life. Inessa’s impending move to
England seemed to give everyone the confidence that I would have the support to tackle life outside The Cedars. I would occasionally be visited by Grace and Dr Ibarra, and with them keeping an eye
on me, and the skills I had picked up from our sessions, I felt I would be prepared to take on the outside world again.

Finally, after five weeks of intensive rehabilitation, I was deemed ready to see you again. I was barely able to contain my happiness, but by then I felt so deprived of pleasure that I
daren’t think it might actually happen. I was right to hesitate, because in the next breath, Ibarra told me that you were about to go away for three months on a European book tour. I
couldn’t help but feel crushed by the revelation; and I felt barely able to look at the crumpled piece of paper he handed me as he gave me the news. ‘I have spoken to Mr Stepanov,
Yelena, and he has asked me to pass this onto you. It’s the addresses of everywhere he’s staying for the next three months, with corresponding dates, until he’s back in
England.’ I saw that the piece a paper contained a list of fourteen addresses of various hotels scattered across Europe. Peering over the edges of his spectacles, and lowering his voice he
added, ‘Write to him, Yelena. I guarantee he will write back. He has missed you just as much as you have missed him. He has inevitably suffered a great deal as a result of being apart from
you. And, if I may say, I think writing to one another might be a good way for you to both come to terms with what’s occurred between the two of you.’ As I turned the piece of paper
over, I saw that there was a small Polaroid picture attached to it. It was the picture of you and me taken at the launch party. I looked so young, and you looked so scared.

Despite my initial resentment, by that time I had grown to see Ibarra as something of a father figure. I’d never before had someone take the time to fully listen to what had happened to me
and then make a reasoned judgement on how best I might conduct my life, and for that reason I remained grateful to him. With hindsight, I now question the logic behind him keeping you and me apart
for so long, especially if he was aware of your impending tour. But he came into my life at a time when I craved guidance and direction, and he gave me both. So if he felt that we were finally
ready to see one another, then I bowed to his judgement. After all, I had often worried that if we reunited too soon you might come to me with bitterness and reproach in your eyes rather than
relief.

The next day, during physiotherapy, I saw Ibarra waiting for me outside the gym. When he spoke to me he was predictably brief, but his manner was also somehow apologetic. He asked if I would
like you to briefly visit me before you went away in two days time. Drained from the session with Grace, I just nodded my approval. Though I barely dared to believe you would come.

And so the next day, after almost six weeks apart, you came to see me. For the first time since my accident, I made a real effort with my appearance. I didn’t just want to look
presentable; if possible I wanted to look attractive again. My skin was paler, and my hair less lustrous than it had been as I’d placed a silver tiara on it to dance as Giselle. When I
brushed the smallest amount of rouge on my cheeks the result was a little startling. My cheekbones were more accentuated than ever. I could feel myself becoming uptight, but the tension was
instantly dispelled when I looked behind me to see Grace laughing in the doorway.

‘What’s so funny?’ I asked.

‘I just find it hilarious that you think you have to make so much effort. He is just a man Yelena.’

I looked at her as if she was mad.

Still chuckling, she stepped into my room. ‘However much of a catch he might be, he is still just a man. And he can’t have much money, he is a writer for God’s sake. And I find
it very improbable that he is even half as good-looking as you. I think it must be the Eastern European diet that made you so trim, I’m sure if
I
had been brought up in Ukraine then
I
would have a figure just like yours.’ And then she did a little dance, until I reluctantly cracked a smile.

When it was time, I pulled my black trench coat around me and made my way on crutches outside. To my surprise you were already stood at the gates, nervously waiting for me to appear.

There you were, your essence burning perceptibly behind your eyes as you approached me. The second before we made contact you smiled, then hugged me and kissed my cheek. I couldn’t help
seeking out your scent, and once I found it I felt both overwhelmed and relieved. You glanced at my face and then hugged me again, harder this time. I sensed a small movement in the curtains of the
drawing room behind us, and I wondered if Grace was watching the whole event.

‘It’s good to see you,’ you said. I felt something well up in my throat, but I turned it into a laugh. You held me at arm’s length. At first your look seemed one of
pride, and I was reminded of how handsome you were. Then the pride turned into something softer, a look that I had not seen since the last time I had lain in your sheets. ‘Let’s
walk,’ you said, looking up at the windows. You waved. I turned to see Grace waving back at you, shamelessly.

There was, inevitably, silence as we walked towards the rose garden. As if both of us were considering the next step on our convoluted and private path through all that had happened.
‘I’m so glad you came,’ I said, as we came to the edge of the garden.

‘I’ve wanted to visit you for a long time,’ you replied, looking down at the frozen grass. ‘But Dr Ibarra said… ’

‘I know.’

You tried to smile.

‘I want you to know how sorry I am, Noah, for… ’

You shook your head. ‘From now on you must look after yourself. I mean… really look after yourself.’

‘You can help me,’ I said.

You looked back at the grass. ‘I hope so. I mean, of course I will. Can you walk okay?’

‘The bones will have healed by now. If I’m careful, I
can
walk without crutches. I’m just keeping them for a little while longer. To be on the safe side.’

‘Good. This garden is rather beautiful.’

I looked around me. ‘The gardener here is obsessed with planting roses for the women on the ground floor. But because the roses are out of season, he’s worried they might not survive
the winter.’

You touched one of them gently. ‘If he keeps an eye on them… maybe.’

I suddenly felt all the silence of the last six weeks gather inside me. I felt the clinging, selfish emptiness I’d experienced in the room at the hospital. The poisonous hunger growing
inside me during the nights when I’d missed you, when I didn’t know where you were, when I had no idea what you were doing. The way every plane and feature of my room had felt like yet
another place that my mind could not help but explore. I remembered the confusion that had lingered inside me for so many days, which had sometimes grown so powerful that I’d been barely able
to speak. And I remembered the increasing sense of helplessness, and the sheer frustration at not knowing what to do with it. I remembered the surety I’d had that nothing could ever work out
again, because I’d simply been through too much to now be able to believe in my own reasoning. I was suddenly aware of the emerging belief I had, that I would always fail in whatever I wanted
to do because I was somehow marked. And lastly I remembered the way I had felt all my emotions bubble to the surface when Dr Ibarra had first tried to get me to open up, how difficult it had been
to ease each feeling out of me, one by one. I wanted to tell you all about those feelings, but I knew it was too soon. You were looking down at the roses, and you weren’t yet ready to even
meet my eye.

The cold began to close around us. We decided to head back inside. It was then, during that brief, careful walk, that you suggested we write to one another while you were away.

‘After all,’ you said, ‘far too much has happened when we have not been together. If we write to each other, we can learn about everything that we have missed. And… I do
want to know it all.’ You stopped. ‘To be honest, Yelena, I think that I
need
to know it all.’

I knew I couldn’t guess at your silences. Mine were labyrinthine enough, and I could only imagine at that point how solemn and elaborate yours might have become. Having begun to accept the
thought of us being apart again, I found the idea of us exchanging confessional letters moved something inside me. I could see it hurt you to think of us being apart for three months this time. It
was only later that I learnt why you’d agreed to the tour, to help yourself handle the possibility that we could be kept apart for even longer. Wanting to ease that expression from your face,
I suddenly became determined to convince you that our separation could be of benefit.

‘We can tell each other everything in these letters,’ I said. ‘Everything we have been unable to say in the last six weeks.’

‘The next three months will be bearable if they are filled with letters in which we finally share it all with one another. And close the gap that’s inevitably opened up between
us.’

The way you looked at me, it was clear you felt sad that was the case. Sad that we could not immediately have a remedy for that.

‘But our letters to one another could achieve much more than that,’ I said, as we lingered in the driveway. I saw one of the nurses tentatively begin to approach us, and I wished she
would hold back. A certain spark seemed to have just reappeared in your eyes, and I wanted to help it ignite into something greater. ‘I want these letters to like be maps of ourselves, Noah.
Maps which… eventually lead us back to one another.’

You took a step back, but I sensed that a seed had been planted. You looked up and smiled at the nurse.

‘I’ll be back in three months, Yelena. Twelve weeks, that’s all. It’s really not long.’

‘I know.’

‘You have the addresses, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘You shouldn’t be staying out in the cold for too long, Yelena,’ the nurse said.

‘I’m taking her back inside,’ you answered.

We hesitated for a moment. I felt rather limp and helpless on my crutches. You stepped closer to me and kissed me on the cheek. I felt your hands gather my hair, and then, as if unable to
prevent yourself, you quickly kissed me on the lips.