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CLARA
Three days after the first audition, I’m called in for the second round.
Grigory takes my head in his hands, his eyes shimmering with pride. “I knew you could do it,devochka.” Something in his eyes changes as he keeps watching me, and when he inclines his head forward, I almost think he’s going to kiss me. But then impassiveness tightens his features, and he turns on his heel, headed for the kitchen where the coffee machine has just beeped.
It’s becoming more and more clear that things can’t go on like this. My feelings for Grigory are reaching dangerous heights and getting between Markus and me. Even though Markus isn’t here, I sense the gaping distance, and responding to his texts is more like an obligation than something I do out of joy these days. Grigory simply takes up so much space in my mind that there’s no room left for Markus, and I hate myself for it.
It feels like Grigory and I are sneaking around, spending all our time together, sleeping in each other’s arms on Markus’s couch, and having secret phone sex.
And this kissing thing… It hurts. I don’t care what strange notion he holds about not kissing me as long as I’m not his. He gladly uses my body in every other way he can think of, so it doesn’t make sense that he can’t kiss me. It makes me feel cheap—not good enough.
We’re stuck in this limbo, being a couple yet not quite being a couple, and I know, deep down, that we won’t be able to move forward as long as I’m with Markus, and Markus will keep slipping away from me as long as I’m with Grigory. Something big has to change. But I don’t see how, and I fear I’ll end up losing both men. Because if Markus and I end things, there’s no way I can stay with Grigory. I just can’t do that to Markus.
These are the worries that keep gnawing at me when I go to the second audition. It takes everything I have to shut them down and plaster on a smile.
This time, the audition is a talk about me, my passion for music, and what I want to do with it. The first five minutes are the hardest, but as I dive into the conversation about my love for music, I slowly forget about the emotional mess that’s about to swallow me whole. I feel lighter than I have in weeks as I open up about my dreams and let my passion drive me.
But as soon as I leave the room, it all comes crashing back—even harder than before. With the burden of the auditions now gone, I can’t hold back the flood of frustration and fear I’ve been keeping locked up behind a heavy metal door, refusing to face.
Now the metal crumbles like it was always just a thin barrier, and I’m forced to face the mess my life and these two parallel relationships have become.
Once I’m home, Grigory brings me to the living room, seeing how depleted I am, and brings me lunch and turns on the TV. Neither of us says anything while I eat and stare at the movie on the screen. But I know I have to say something or I’ll explode. So I finally do.
“Are you ever going to kiss me?” I ask out of the blue.
The hand that was caressing my waist stills, and the air thickens with tension. The silence seems to stretch on for minutes, though it’s probably just a moment before he says, “I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
He expels a heavy breath. “You’re not mine.”
A heavy rock falls into the pit of my stomach.I’m not his.Yet every fiber of my being, every instinct, seems to think otherwise. But it’s not true. My body has led me to deception. I don’t know who’s to blame, myself or Grigory—maybe even Markus—and I’m not sure it matters.
I pull free from Grigory’s arm, needing space to think.
“I thought you guys were gonna share me,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“It’s not that simple.” He tries to pull me back to him. “Let’s not talk about it right now. It’s been a long day.”
I get up, too worked up to sit still. “We need to have this talk.”
Grigory’s tone tightens. “Sit down, Clara. We do need to talk, but not without Markus. He’ll be back in a few days and until then, you need to rest. We both do.”
What he says makes sense. Markus is part of this too, yet I can’t help feeling that part of it is an intimate matter between Grigory and me. Dragging Markus into the conversation would be like an infringement.
“I need to talk to you, Grigory,” I say with a quivering voice, tears already starting to well in my eyes. “You.”
His eyes grow full of empathy as he holds a hand out to me. “Come, Clara. Sit with me.”
I badly want to take the offer and sink onto his lap—nestle against his warm chest. But I know we won’t talk if I do. So I remain standing, shaking my head. “Please, just talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say? Talking isn’t gonna make you mine.” His tone is suddenly dead serious.
Hugging myself, I turn my head, trying to hide both the shaking in my shoulders and the tears spilling from my eyes. “Aren’t I already yours? At least in some sense.Can’t I belong to both of you?” I badly want to, but I already know the answer. With Markus in the picture, I’ll never truly be Grigory’s.
Grigory leans his elbows on his knees, staring down at his folded hands, and it reminds me so much of that night half a year ago when he came here and everything came together. Only now, everything seems to be falling apart.
“I can’t share you, Clara,” he sayssolemnly without looking at me.
