~*~ 2 SEPTEMBER 2000:

            Today is my would-be father’s birthday. He would be forty-five. I can still clearly remember the day I discovered that he had walked out on my mum. 5 June 1986. For about a month, I had heard them fighting when they thought we were asleep. Sophie, Miki and I would huddle together and pray that they would stop. I clearly remember asking Sophie:

          “Are mummy and daddy going to get a divorce?” Big words for a three year old. Sophie just shook her head.

          “Of course no! They’re just ‘discussing,’ remember?” Miki said.

          Discussing. Of course. That’s all adults (especially MARRIED adults) ever do! They can’t even admit to their own children that they are indeed arguing. “Oh no, we’re not fighting, we’re just discussing.” It drives me INSANE! The thing is, they don’t want to hurt us. But lying is even worse.

          That fateful (really, it was a blessing) day, Sophie and Miki had taken me out to a park for the entire day. It was rather amazing. No-one had really ever taken me to a park before. People were too busy, or there were just no parks. I think many of the parks had been turned into places for the government, at least in our neighborhood. Ev had come too, and we spent the entire day goofing off, enjoying our young lives.

          By six that evening, we were all hungry, our picnic lunch had been skimpy, and we went home. For the first time for over a month, the house was quiet. Mum was sitting at the kitchen table, puffy eyed, but happier than she had been in months.

          “The dragon has been defeated,” she whispered.

          I just glanced at her. Dragon? What dragon? Did we really have a dragon? Where was it?

          Mum must have noticed my confusion. “You’ll never have to hear us fight again,” she said in a gentler tone.

          “He’s gone!” Miki exclaimed.

          “Slunk out like the coward he is!”

          “Serves the God-damn bastard right!” Sophie exclaimed. Miki, Ev, and I all stared at her, expecting Mum to say something in retaliation to that remark. But she said nothing except:

          “That’s right!”

          It took me a few minutes to realize that it was indeed my father that they were talking about. Being a three-year-old, this conversation seemed like that of Biblical Scholars. It finally sunk in, and for a few moments, I felt a little remorse. Of course, that soon faded. He never had any time for me anyway; I half thought he didn’t want me. Later, Mum revealed that he hadn’t wanted either Sophie or me – because we were girls – and on two occasions she caught him trying to kill me. I almost died of cyanide poisoning when I was nine months old.

          Later that evening, when I looked outside, into the alley behind our flat, I saw his hockey trophy sticking out of a box of things that Mum had discarded. The early June rain splattered on it’s tarnished side. Poetic Justice. He loved that lump of brassed metal more than his own wife, or children. Ev and Miki have argued that she could have sold it, but she said she couldn’t. It sickened her to think of getting money from his things.

          Of course, it took some time to adjust to the fact that there were only four in the household now, instead of five. And life got harder. Mum went to work, which was difficult enough for a woman in a communist society, let alone a woman in a communist city. For a few weeks, we considered moving to Moscow, but we didn’t have enough money. Sophie didn’t want to enter high school, but go to work. Mum wouldn’t hear of it. Our heat got cut and the Plushenkos graciously let us move in w/them, though there was barely enough room for themselves. In August of that same year, Natisha Glophik, a famous skating coach, who thought I’d be a good candidate for the sport, approached Mum. She promised to take me on free of charge, and I began to skate. I also started school that year. Thus, my career started, tanks to my so called father.

          Tami – my American friend, who still lives in Chicago, if I make it to Worlds, I’ll have to drop by and see her, and Olga too. That was a major run-on sentence! – once described the day she found out her mum’s dog had died. She said it was weird. It is her earliest memory. She said she looked out at the backyard, expecting to see the dog – ironic, as the dog spent most of its time inside – and she never did. I guess that’s a bit like my story. My father could have been considered a dog, my mum called him worse.  

 

~*~ 4 SEPTEMBER 2000

          Hee, hee found a funky silver coloured pen! I like! I think it’s another one of the ones Tasha gave me. NOTE TO SELF, WRAP TASHA’S PRESENT!  Hum...!

          Still nothing from Dima. Called him about a million times last night. Actually, just six. Hasn’t returned my calls. Will go visit him if I feel no-degraded after practice tomorrow. Stupid quad! Oh, wait not tomorrow, recording for Yags... Wednesday then. V. worried. Must ring up Tasha and consult.

          School is continuing at a mediocre pace, the mid term (they called the end of the first quarter in the USA) ends in October. Lucy says my quad is staring to shape up again. I think the Finlandia Trophy is in Late September, and I’m already signed up for Slate America, though Ev won’t be going to that one. Yags will, and so will I. Slutskiya. Eek! Getting very nervous!

 

~*~ 5 SEPTEMBER 2000 

          I’m at the recording studio right now! It’s all very incredible. I’ve been formally introduced to Yags today for the first time. It’s weird. Like meeting a movie star or something. I still really haven’t gotten used to being a member of the elite skaters! Yags is very nice, of course a bit more refined and mature than Ev, but that may just be personality. He hasn’t said anything about his upcoming season, just that he is very glad that I could come to play this afternoon. The recording session went marvelously. I managed to play it once and make not a bobble.

LATER:

          Ev rung up a little while ago. “Did you find anything out about his season?” was the first thing he said.

          I laughed. “No. We really didn’t speak about skating at all.”

          “You didn’t?”

          “No. Just went in there, played, and left.”

          “What did you think of him?”

          I laughed again. Ev has that type of influence on me. “What is this an interrogation? Actually, he was a bit droll. He doesn’t have your sense of humor.”

          Ev laughed at that, and explained that he had to go, and we hung up.

 

~*~ 6 September 2000  

          DIMITRY MYIKOFF IS SUCH AN EGG HEAD – for lack of a better, G-rated term. I went to see what was up with him today, because I’ve been back for a while and he hasn’t come to visit me, or rung me up, or anything. His apartment is located in a sandy coloured building across town, so I went there straight from classes. His flat is one of those that you have to be allowed in by an occupant. In order to tell him that I’m there, I have to use on of those microphone voice box things. So, I presses in, and called up to his flat.

          “Who is it?” Dima’s voice was muffled, and he was a bit breathless.

          “Moi,” I said. That’s always how I tell someone I’m me.

          “Who’s me?” he asked. That was odd. He never asked me that before. He must just be out of sorts today.

          “Julie, of course.”      

          “Oh, Julie... You’re back already?”

          I laughed, but inside was nervously thinking of why he would have thought I was still out of town. “I’ve been back since 21 August,” I told him.

          “Weren’t you training in Spain or something?”

          “Ev was in early August, but not anymore. You know I always train here. What’s wrong with you today?”

          “Uhhhh...”

          “Dina, it’s damn cold out here, will you let me up. We can sort things out at your flat, maybe over some vodka... (For you Kelly, as you’re an American, the drinking age is much lower here in Russia.)” I suggested. Even in early September, Petersburg is cold; it’s so far north.

          “You can’t!”

          That was the most stable thing I had heard him say during this entire conversation. I was getting very apprehensive by now. “Why the hell not?” 

          “It’s a mess.”

          Oh, I was very, very upset by now. “Dimitri Myikoff, you and I both know very well that you’re the most meticulous person I know. You have something to hide don’t you!”

          “NO!”

          “Then let me up!”

          “But we’re not even together anymore!”

          “What?!?!” Where did he come up with that idea. Of course we were together. My god, we’ve been together since high school. Where had this come from?

          “Didn’t you get my e-mail? I broke up with you then,” he explained icily. “Now, will you please leave before I have you evicted from this property!?”

          I didn’t know what to say. Of course I hadn’t checked my e-mail for a long time but still... I got in my car and drove to Tasha’s house as she was the only person I could think of to talk to.

          I poured out the entire story over a cup of tea, and Tasha kindly listened without interruption. Then she said:

          “Well, he should be the one in tears, not you. Any man who tries o break up with you over the Internet is not worthy of you or of any woman. You shouldn’t feel bad. He’s a piece of worthless scum!”

          I got a bit of a smile from that. “I guess your right,” I told her. “It’s just that we’ve been together for so long that it’s hard to imagine not going out with him. And he seemed so nice when he dropped me off at the airport then sent me that e-mail...”

          “What e-mail?” Tasha asked.

          “Oh, just an e-mail. Said something like ‘have a safe trip, miss you...’ That sort of crap.”

          “I bet he wanted to make sure you trusted him. Then he’d go off with some slut or another and hope he could still keep you.”

          I shrugged. “I’ve heard of weirder things happening,” I admitted. “Oh, by the by, what do you want to do for your birthday?”

          “Oh, Julie, I don’t know. You don’t have to do anything special...” 

          “Oh yes I do! Uh, I know! I’ll take you to the new Italian place for dinner. Pytor (her boyfriend), and Ev, and Olga (another school chum), and Dima... Oh wait. Scratch Dima. Well, it will just be you, Ev, Olga, Pytor, and me them. How does that sound?”

          “Fine.”

          “Okay, I’ll see you on Monday then.”

          I left felling surprisingly better then I had all day.

 

~*~ 8 SEPTEMBER 2000

          Ohhhh, now I’ve done it! I’m so dead. That boot finally broke that boot, as Lucy predicted I would. I was trying my quad – which I’ve finally gotten back into shape – and boom, on the landing, it just...broke! I came crashing down with all the splendor of the Berlin wall and all the fury of London Bridge (or is it the other way around?). I landed awkwardly on my right foot and with a sickening crunch, sprained my ankle. We thought it was broken, but it was only sprained. I’m v. glad it’s only sprained, but very disappointed. Lucy says I won’t be able to be on it for a month and I will miss the Finlandia Trophy. I have to go to Skate America instead, and Ev won’t be at that one. Yags will...it’s in Colorado Springs, Colorado. We’ll see how that one turns out.

          A perfectly terrible way to end a perfectly terrible week.

 

~*~ 9 SEPTEMBER 2000

    Ev came over to cheer me up today after his practice. Brought me chocolate. The only thing that would have cheered me up today was chocolate, and he knew! That’s why he’s my best friend. I told him about Skate America. He said I’d do wonderfully and that he would prefer to go to that one instead of the Finlandia Trophy. Then he told me that he WOULD be going, and he was trying to kid me when he said he wasn’t. That’s a load off my shoulders. At least he’ll be there to cheer me on. He also brought this article:

Russian Skater Injured!

     Yesterday, at the Yubileiny Sport Club, skater Julie Demodiva sprained her ankle. Her coach Lucy Saroff says: “Julie has been pushing herself. This was bound to happen. I hope she will be well by Skate America.” Demodiva herself has not commented on her injury yet.      

I sighed, looking at the article. They spelled my name incorrectly. I hope this isn’t a foreshadowing! I also wouldn’t say I’m wounded. Stupid paparazzi. They killed Princess Di, you know. They’re always getting in the way.

 

~*~ 11 SEPTEMBER 2000: Tasha’s Birthday

          Had a lovely time a Tasha’s party today. She turns eighteen today! WOW, I can’t believe how fast our lives are going. It’s absolutely astonishing. Mmmmm, Italian food. I love it! Almost as much as I love that fatty American food. *Sigh* I miss some of that American food, like what did they call it…. Oh, fast food. YUM!!!! Oh, this talk of food has made me hungry.

          Anyway, Tasha got lots of lovely things, and she was very happy to have us all there to wish her a happy birthday. She was very ill last year over her birthday, and we didn’t get to celebrate. So we made up for it today. And we at lots. Ev got mad at me, cause I ate almost as much as Pytor (I was hungry!!!).

          “Skaters must keep their figures,” he said, sounding a hell of a lot like Mishan. Incidentally, I found out that at The Academy of Physical Culture, they teach sports medicine (how droll) and I guess Ev wants to become a sports medic. I don’t think I would enjoy that, and that requires cutting up people, and I’m still having nightmares from doing those cats in Biology, and that was five years ago. (I wonder where they got those cats. I mean, Tami says the Bio lab at her school gets them from a cat farm, and I know there are NO cat farms in Russia. I bet they’re illegal. Ev says they shoot them in the head from off the street – My neighbor Glenda is missing her cat... – but I don’t believe him.) I also found out that Mishan teaches a class (or two) at TAOPC and Ev’s got a girlfriend who goes there. I think on of Mishan’s less experienced pupils. And she’s BLONDE! Ick, I mean blonde is such a ick colour. I barely know anyone with blonde hair, save Tami, and hers is really strawberry blonde. I don’t see what Ev sees in blonde hared chicks. Ohhhh!

          We all got a major surprise today, Pytor asked our dear Tasha to marry him! What a birthday gift. Was reminded briefly of Dima, but then silently damned him to hell and put on my happy face (do you know they have a happy pill in the USA? Yeah, it’s called Prozac!). Tasha said yes – of course – and we all toasted them. Time is really flying. I remember when I first met her, at the high school. Whoa, that’s a bit scary. She didn’t eve like boys back then, and promised that she would never marry! Well, that’s life. Feeling v. sleepy, am retiring now. A bit ill in the head too, too much liquor!

          Hum, my birthday is coming up in January. That’s plenty of time to meet someone... 

 

~*~ 14 SEPTEMBER 2000                           

           I am so dreadfully hungry! I can’t stop eating!!!! I’m afraid I will lose my figure now, since I’m not on the ice. Ev things it’s v. funny and Lucy say I’m probably just growing. Damn, I’ve been this size since I was a freshman!!!! I must be careful what I eat and when...

 

~*~ 20 SEPTEMBER 2000
          V. busy! Have a thesis to finish, won’t be able to write for a while. God, I hate thesises! I really don’t think that’s a word.

 

~*~ 28 SEPTEMBER 2000

   Feeling ill.

 

LATER:

          Went to the doctor, I have the flu! God save the Czar, I can’t have the flu, not now! My ankle was just healing. Damn! Lucy wasn’t very happy to hear this news.

 

~*~ 30 SEPTEMBER 2000  

          God Save the Czar, I’m so sick I can hardly pick up the fucking pen. I’ve been sick every twenty minutes, how can there be anything left in my stomach to fucking puke up? Everyone sends their regards, and have had no visitors, not even Ev. Mishan doesn’t want him getting sick! God Damn Bloody Hell am going to be sick AGAIN!!!!!