enola_power-of-love

THE POWER OF LOVE By Enola

PART 1

She was the most beautiful lap dancer of the club. The way she moved made all men go crazy. James saw her for the first time one night he went to the club with some mates of his and, since then, he went there every night just to see her. He always sat at the same corner table on the left of the stage with a Jameson and Coke in his hands and watched her for hours as mesmerized by her beauty and grace. Her name was Larissa and she came from Ukraine.

One night, before she went home, he bought her a drink. She thanked him smiling timidly and blushing. They introduced to each other and started a pleasant conversation talking about different subjects.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked,
“For one year,” she replied.
“Only one year?” he said surprised, “You do speak English very well! You’ve got a little accent, but you speak correctly.”

She blushed again and thanked him.
“I studied it a school, then telly and Dostoevskij’s translations helped me a lot.”
“But you don’t work in here since then, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve worked here for almost two months.”
“Oh! And what did you do before?”
“I was…well, I still am a ballet teacher. I work here because I’d like to have my own school.”
“Now I understand why you dance with such a natural grace!” he smiled.
She blushed once again lowering her brown eyes and thanked him. “What about you?” she hastened to ask to change subject.
“Um, I’m a musician.”
“Mmm, what do you play?”
“Guitar and piano…and bass, a bit. But I mainly play guitars, sometimes I use the piano to compose.”

She supposed he had his own group and he replied he played his cousin and a common childhood mate.
“I seldom listen to that kind of music.”
“I bet you love classical music,” he smiled.
She gave a short laugh and said, “Yeah! You know, my mum was a pianist.”
“And you play too?”
“Erm, just a little. I preferred to listen to her and dance, so she thought she’d better send me to a ballet school.”
“You said she was a pianist…this means she’s – ” He didn’t go on.

“Yes, she’s dead,” she said softly turning a bit sad.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Mine too.” His voice was serious now. “Four years ago or so. She had a cancer.”
“I’m sorry too. It must be horrible when you see someone you love suffering and you can’t do anything.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Mine died in an accident. I don’t think she realised it.”
“It also must be horrible losing somebody all of a sudden.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
For a moment they kept silent looking at each other as to give and search for a little comfort. Then she broke the silence and excused herself. It was late and she had to go.

They talked again after that night and once he even asked her out when he was keeping her company while waiting for the cab she had previously called. She had given him the impression of a very smart girl, so he wanted to have the change to talk to her more and know her better. She felt extremely flattered by his invitation but had to reject although she had been immediately struck by his good manners and his quiet way to speak. He was much different from the other men who went there and were used to treating her like an object. But she couldn’t go out with him. She explained she didn’t ever go out with the club clients. He was saddened by her refusal but respected her decision and kept going to the club every night. Seeing her dancing was enough.

About three weeks later, James realized that there was something wrong with her. She looked miserable and weary. Every time he tried to talk to her she didn’t even watch him and fled from him using silly excuses. Once he told her he had understood there was something that worried her. He tried to persuade her to speak to him because perhaps he could have helped her, but she replied he couldn’t do anything for her.

Some nights later James went to the toilets and couldn’t help listening to the dialogue between two men who were talking about her.
“That girl’s so hot!” said one, “I wouldn’t mind having a shag with her.”
The other man laughed for a moment and said, “Do you have 300 pounds with you?”
The former replied he wasn’t used to going about with such a great deal of money in his pockets and asked why he should have to. The latter softened his voice and replied,
“’Cos you can for that sum!”
“Are you serious?”
“But if you want ‘something special’, it’ll obviously cost you more!”
“That means you fucked her.”
“And that she did fuck me! She was worth the money!”
For James it was enough. He couldn’t listen to any longer.

The next night, as usual, James went there, sat at the same table and ordered a Jameson, and some others later. He watched Larissa as he had never done. He had always been attracted by her big brown eyes and the way she smiled slightly blushing when he talked to her. But this time he focused on her body. He was dying to touch her, to have her. As she finished her performance James followed her to her dressing room but a bouncer stopped him. He said he had to see her, the bouncer asked if he had the money and let him go when James showed it to him.

When Larissa opened the door, after he had knocked, he pushed the door making his way to the room.
“James…what are you doing in here?”
He buried his hand in his pocket and showed her the bank notes, then said harshly, “Since you never go out with clients but you shag them instead, here I am!”
“Go away!” she cried turning.
James grasped her by one arm forcing her to face him and snarled, “I’ve got the money, so you’ll give me what you’ve given to the others!”
The reek of alcohol in his breath made her aware that he was drunk and he frightened her. He was so different from the kind and sensitive guy she had known. But she knew that thing would have changed when he would have known what she did. She burst out crying, her whole body shook in sobs and once again she begged him to leave.

James didn’t go to the club for a week. At the beginning he was disappointed by Larissa. He had thought she liked him from the way she reacted when the two of them talked; they way she blushed and avoided to look him in the eye. He had believed she had high moral principles, but perhaps she had lied to him about everything. Probably she wasn’t a ballet teacher at all and she didn’t need money to set up her own school. The truth was that she was nothing but a ‘whore’. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her. The fact she had chased him away in tears puzzled him and a feeling of doubt and uncertainty built inside him. More than once newspapers and telly had denounced that every year thousand of girls in their early 20’s coming from Easter Europe were tricked by their own countrymen who, with the pretext of offering them a job and a better life in Western countries, forced them to prostitute themselves. The thought Larissa could be one of those girls turned his stomach.

He had to go to the club and do his best to convince her to tell him all the truth. When he arrived he saw her quarrelling with the owner. She turned to leave but he grasped her by one arm. She tried to free herself but he slapped at her. At that point James intervened. The owner shouted at him to mind his business and, in the meantime, Larissa rushed away. James ran after her calling her name but she didn’t stop. She hailed a taxi, got into it and it drove off. He didn’t give in. He caught a cab himself asking the driver to follow the other. It stopped at Westminster Children’s Hospital and Larissa rushed inside. When James entered he saw her taking the lift. He waited to see in which floor it would stop, then he took it. Once he was at the 4th floor he saw her talking to a doctor and bursting into tears a moment later. The doctor comforted her, so they both entered one of the rooms. James walked in that direction and saw her sitting in a bed stroking the hair of a blonde child aged about seven.

The next morning James went again at the hospital. The previous night he had gone away because he knew that leaving her alone was the best thing to do. He saw a little boy playing with his video game in the corridor, so he went closer and sat next to him. They started talking then James asked,
“Do you know that child from that room?” He pointed at the last door at the left of the corridor.
“Yes, his name’s Yuri. He’s Russian.”
“Does he understand English?”
“Yes, he can speak very well too!”
“D’you know why he’s here?”
“His heart’s ill. He needs an expensive operation. His sister works night and day to collect the money. They’ve got to go to the States for it.”
“His sister’s called Larissa, isn’t it?”
“No, her name’s Sasha.”
‘Sasha?’ thought James perplexed. Then he went on with his questions.

“What does she do? You know?”
“She’s a dance teacher. You know, those who dance on the tip of their toes with those funny skirts.”
James also learnt that their parents had both died one year earlier and that Sasha had spent the whole night by his brother, who had suffered a crisis, and then had gone to work, but she would be back soon.

Talking to the little boy helped James to understand. It was clear now that Larissa, or rather Sasha, as she was really called, had lied to protect her little brother. She worked at the club not for setting up her own ballet school, but because of his brother’s illness. He couldn’t help feeling guilty.

When he entered the child’s room he was reading a book. James said hello, sat in his bed and introduced himself as one of her sister’s friends. Yuri was surprised because his sister had never talked about him, but he was also happy that somebody else apart from his sister had gone to see him. The other little boy had been right, Yuri spoke an excellent English. James saw some posters of Chelsea players on the wall and said,
“Your sister talked to me about you a lot. She said you’re a keen Chelsea fan!”
“That’s true. The Blues are the best!” smiled the kid. “Sasha’s promised she’ll bring me to a game when I’ll be better. She’d do anything for me!”

James’ heart sank as Yuri pronounced the last sentence. While he was talking to the child James noticed he looked like his sister very much. His eyes were blue but he had her smile and the same dimples appeared in both his cheeks.
The book the child was reading, which he had leant over his belly, opened and James saw two pictures inside it. He asked permission to see them and Yuri showed them to him. In the first one he was with his sister and their parents, in the other just with his sister. In both of them Sasha had long dark blonde hair and her eyes were blue just like Yuri’s. Larissa and Sasha were two different girls, the former with dark brown hair and brown eyes and the latter dark blonde with blue eyes, and the very same girl at the same time. Yuri said that now Sasha’s hair was a lot shorter.

“You also are a dancer?” Yuri asked.
James couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I’m totally crap at dancing. I’m a musician!”
Yuri’s eyes lit up as he heard the word ‘musician’.
“Really? I want to become a pianist like my mum. She used to play every Sunday and Sasha danced in our living room.”

At that very time Sasha entered the room. Seeing James talking to his brother made her blood run cold. She wondered how James could have found out about Yuri.
“Hey sis, your friend made me a surprise! Aren’t you happy?” said the child with a big smile in his face.
Sasha avoided eye contact with James, went close to his brother and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. James couldn’t help but notice she was shivering. She took a deep breath and spoke endeavouring to keep calm,
“James, could you please go and wait for me at the cafè. It’s on 6th floor.”
James fondled Yuri’s cheek and said bye smiling at him, so he stood up and left. Sasha stayed with her brother for a moment then told him she would be back soon.

“You bastard!” she snarled at James as she joined him at the bar. “How dared you? Who the fuck gives you the right to come here? What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I told him nothing!” replied James calmly. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
“What should I have told you?” she shouted trying to hold back her tears. “That my brother’s dying? That he won’t live enough to celebrate his 9th birthday?” Suddenly, her lips started trembling uncontrollably and two big tears rolled down her face.
“You could have found another solution.”
“What should I have done? Rob a bank?” she sobbed,
“Yes, why not? It’d surely be more dignified!”
Sasha went closer and slapped him hard across the face.
“You don’t know anything about me, my brother and our lives. Stay away from him.”
She rushed away crying her heart out. He let her go. He felt too ashamed of himself.

Part 2 >>>

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