(You’ve gutted me.)
By signing that contract, I’ll never be able to see Baylee smile or even frown. I’ll never hear her talk or laugh. I’ll never wrap my arms around her shoulders. I’ll never hug her tight or kiss her—fuck I can’t even say her name.
Forever.
“I want to be clear,” Marc says, “if you sign this contract and you both decide to quit four years or even ten years down the line to be with each other, we’ll still have to enforce a no minors policy in case anyone finds out about today’s offer. You take this offer, and there is no turning back.”
My insides are on fire.
Marc throws more facts at me. “When you’re eighteen, you can date any adult you’d like in the company. Just not Baylee Wright. I’m not keeping you from her, Luka. You have a choice. If you’re adamant about being with Baylee, sign the termination contract.”
“He’s not,” Nikolai says firmly, his glare hot on me. Wondering how I can even hesitate to choose a girl over my future. The love I carry for Baylee is stronger than he understands, but it’s a fucking cruel choice.
Because I wholeheartedly, undeniably love Katya and Timofei. And Nik. And my cousins, but really, it’s Kat. It’s Timo.
If I leave Aerial Ethereal, I lose them—and I can’t.
I can’t lose them.
I’ve spent nearly my entire life with my sister and brother. We’re closer than friends. Closer than most family. We’re bonded by experiences and time, and I’m scared to sever all of that.
“Just give me…” a second.
“You’re fifteen, Luka,” Nikolai says, speaking huskily and forcefully beneath his breath. “Fifteen. Whatever you have with Baylee now, it’ll most likely end. You can’t quit for her. It’s na?ve. This is your career. Your life.”
I hear: your family.
Marc passes over pens to all of us. “Luka, you’re young; you don’t get it,” he patronizes me, “but simply put, you aren’t entitled to everything you want. You will lose something today. And you must choose.”
I stare faraway. Marc pretends like I have a choice, but Baylee was just in here. She already made her decision—and I know that she didn’t pick me.
Baylee didn’t just choose this career. She chose her older brother. She chose the memory of her mother. She chose the pieces of her heart that preexisted me.
I understand, and I know I’m about to do the exact same. For nearly identical reasons. Our siblings—they lift us when we fall down, and we’re scared to lose them now.
Maybe it’d be different if we were older.
Stable. With less voices telling us we’re na?ve and wrong.
I don’t know. I can’t know.
An unbearable loss compounds on my chest as I pick up my pen. And I put my hand on the contract with a thousand stipulations. It seems impossible to maintain, but with the threat of the no minors policy, I know I have to.
I know she will too.
We’re both not the kind of people who’d destroy other kids for our own gain. We’d choose to be miserable alone first.
While I flip through the papers to find the signature spaces, something wet glides down my cheek. I rub my face roughly and sign my name.
I terminate a friendship. A thousand peaceful moments. And the possibility of a happy ending.
A few minutes later, we shuffle back into the waiting room—and right when Dimitri shuts the office door, I crouch and puke in a potted plant.
Breathing heavy, I hang onto the wicker vase.
Nik looks slightly relieved by the outcome, but he’s still in damage-control mode. “We need to talk about what to tell other people. They’ll ask questions about why we were called here and why you’re no longer talking to Baylee.”
Just completely depleted, I sit on the floor. “Tell them I fucked up.”
Nik shakes his head once. “It’s too vague. We need an explanation as to why you’re demoted.”
Nausea roils again.
“You and Baylee were doing cocaine,” Dimitri suddenly says, as though he’s been concocting this during the entire meeting.
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Yeah, you did coke.” Dimitri nods, really believing this is a good idea. “I caught you in the costume department snorting drugs together. You’ve been enabling one another—it’s why the company wants you to lose contact. You’ve been demoted because you broke the Wellness Policy.” He laughs. “Fucking brilliant.” Nodding to Nik, he says, “I can spread this like wildfire.”
I don’t have to ask why he chose cocaine.
A few of my cousins have been suspended for it. Our profession relies on our bodies, and at times, our jobs are physically painful. Even when we’re in supreme physical condition.
Stimulants, especially cocaine, can offer a high that not only alleviates pain but makes performing…electric.
I don’t know from experience. I’ve never tried cocaine. Mostly because I fear Nikolai’s disappointment, and I risk a lot—but I couldn’t risk using drugs.
“Hey…” I sluggishly pick myself up. “Can you at least make it seem like it was my fault, not hers?” If anyone blasts her for this lie…
“I’ll try.”
Nik starts walking away, but he glances over his shoulder, ensuring that I follow. “Let’s go home.”
He never asks if I’m okay. Maybe because it’s obvious that I’m not. I’m reaping the consequences and taking responsibility for my mistake.
But the price I paid feels gut-wrenchingly high. And as I leave the offices, a realization hammers inside of me like steel to bone. I will always wonder if we chose wrong. If we chose right.
I will always return to today and contemplate my one choice. I already feel it tormenting me.
And suddenly, I think…
I wish we weren’t given a choice at all.
Act Four
1 Year Ago – Las Vegas Luka Kotova
Second meeting with Marc Duval.
I’m nineteen. I’ve lost the ability to fear him. I’m not terrified of being fired. Not even nervous. In over three years, Aerial Ethereal buried me so far down the roster that I’m surprised they even remember to print my name on the program.
I have one source of disdain in my life. Just one.
It’s at him. At Corporate.
Marc sips from his Aerial Ethereal mug while I sit across his desk. “If this is about what I think it is,” he says, “you can leave. You’re lucky I’m even entertaining this.” He has no name for our spontaneous meeting. I didn’t schedule one.
He didn’t call me in to chat.
I heard he was in the Vegas office, and I stormed assuredly through the door with four words. We need to talk.
“It’s been three and a half years.” I sit on the edge of the chair. “We’ve obeyed every demand you made. We never texted each other. I haven’t even looked at her face.” It’s been hard. Almost impossible.
But the last memory I have of Baylee is us…being caught behind a costume rack. And then her aunt blocking her from my view.
Marc just stares at me like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
I add, “No one thinks we hooked up in the past. They all think we were caught doing drugs.” And Dimitri doesn’t lie to family. Never has, and never will again. “They’re not going to draw the conclusion that we broke a rule and you offered us our jobs back…” I trail off at the heat in his eyes. “Come on.”
“Let go of her.”
I blink slowly, weight mounting on me. I can’t accept it yet. “I’m not asking to date Baylee. I’d like to speak to her.” I sit forward again. “Her eighteenth birthday was yesterday. I just want to wish her a happy birthday and know that you won’t enforce the no minors policy.”
(Please.)
Marc shakes his head. “It’s not happening. You’re not being rewarded for honoring a contract that you have to follow.”
“Can I send her a card?” I try.
“And what does that do? Other than open the floodgates to a friendship that you can’t have?” Marc actually rolls his eyes in exasperation. “This is exactly why I told you make certain you were sure of your choice…”
I tune him out.
Every day I question what I chose.
Every day of my life I wonder what my world would look like with her in it, but without the circus. Without my family.