Yuri doesn't say anything when Lilia comes in, but silently lets her guide him through a familiar series of long, slow stretches, deep breaths in and out under her quiet count as he holds each one, wincing only when her firm touch helps push him deeper into a split or encourages him to reach a little further than his body would otherwise attempt on its own. After hours of sitting on an airplane or in a car, or standing cheek by jowl with hundreds of strangers, he can feel how tense his muscles have become even without the effort of exercise. So this simple routine, more than a chance to loosen all the kinks that have developed in his shoulders and back and legs throughout the day and evening, feels a little like piercing blisters to drain the fluid within. Tomorrow, the stretches will be a little more dynamic, aimed at keeping him warm and limber; tonight, they're meant to soothe and heal.
'Your costumes?' Lilia says, once they're finished and the mat is set to one side. Without a word, Yuri goes to look them over as Lilia shakes out and folds his discarded suit -- and again, it's the routine that he knows he's learning, being responsible for examining seams and hems and decorative pieces, that's meant to enforce a calm discipline over his fragmented thoughts. Everything seems to be in order for both Agape and Allegro, so he turns to check his skates. He'd had them sharpened in St. Petersburg, tested the critical R.O.H. with a run-through of all his jumps for both programs; they should be in ideal shape for tomorrow. Both he and Mila have spare sets of pre-sharpened blades secured in one of Yakov's bags, just in case. But he examines the leather and the laces, one final review, and gives them a quick buff with a soft cloth before he wraps them up again for transport.
(Not so different from Lilia's own years of breaking in and maintaining pair after pair of pointe shoes, sewing on the ribbons and loosening the shanks and scoring the soles with a sharp knife. Even though Yuri would never dance en pointe, she had still walked him through the practice as an essential part of a prima's training -- and he'd followed it all with rapt attention, trying to absorb as much of it as he could.)
He packs his bag for the morning, warm-up clothes and water bottle and everything he'll need. Lilia slips the Agape costume into a waterproof garment bag to keep it clean, and as she hands it to Yuri it's time for the final instructions of the evening. 'No more than ten minutes on your phone tonight,' she says, though from the way Yuri's eyelids are drooping she suspects that he won't even bother with that much time. 'Listen to quiet music only -- and not your program pieces. Drink two glasses of water before you sleep, and have one more glass as soon as you wake up. Do you need anything else?'
Yuri shakes his head. The evening routine has helped clear his head somewhat, but the events of the day have left him feeling like a wrung-out washcloth. All he needs right now is the last of his grandfather's pirozhki and eight hours of not having to think about anything. 'Good night, Lilia,' he says, a tired but polite routine of its own. 'Thank you for your help.'
no subject
'Your costumes?' Lilia says, once they're finished and the mat is set to one side. Without a word, Yuri goes to look them over as Lilia shakes out and folds his discarded suit -- and again, it's the routine that he knows he's learning, being responsible for examining seams and hems and decorative pieces, that's meant to enforce a calm discipline over his fragmented thoughts. Everything seems to be in order for both Agape and Allegro, so he turns to check his skates. He'd had them sharpened in St. Petersburg, tested the critical R.O.H. with a run-through of all his jumps for both programs; they should be in ideal shape for tomorrow. Both he and Mila have spare sets of pre-sharpened blades secured in one of Yakov's bags, just in case. But he examines the leather and the laces, one final review, and gives them a quick buff with a soft cloth before he wraps them up again for transport.
(Not so different from Lilia's own years of breaking in and maintaining pair after pair of pointe shoes, sewing on the ribbons and loosening the shanks and scoring the soles with a sharp knife. Even though Yuri would never dance en pointe, she had still walked him through the practice as an essential part of a prima's training -- and he'd followed it all with rapt attention, trying to absorb as much of it as he could.)
He packs his bag for the morning, warm-up clothes and water bottle and everything he'll need. Lilia slips the Agape costume into a waterproof garment bag to keep it clean, and as she hands it to Yuri it's time for the final instructions of the evening. 'No more than ten minutes on your phone tonight,' she says, though from the way Yuri's eyelids are drooping she suspects that he won't even bother with that much time. 'Listen to quiet music only -- and not your program pieces. Drink two glasses of water before you sleep, and have one more glass as soon as you wake up. Do you need anything else?'
Yuri shakes his head. The evening routine has helped clear his head somewhat, but the events of the day have left him feeling like a wrung-out washcloth. All he needs right now is the last of his grandfather's pirozhki and eight hours of not having to think about anything. 'Good night, Lilia,' he says, a tired but polite routine of its own. 'Thank you for your help.'