Dance with Sabers

“Tamara, look—Petya’s coming. Head turned, staring right at your house again.”

Tamara was spinning in front of the mirror.

“Oh, please. What is there to stare at? No looks, no status.”

Nina, who was waiting by the window so they could leave for the village dance together, snorted.

“Well sure, and you have plenty of status.”

“What? What’s wrong with me?”
Tamara strutted across the room.

“Oh, everything’s right with you. Everything! Except you could use a few more brains.”

Nina stood up. Tamara burst out laughing.

“Come on, Nina. Brains and a beautiful woman? Incompatible concepts!”

Nina smirked.
“Oh really? Then how come you’re still not married? You barely have two brain cells to rub together.”

Tamara shot back instantly:
“And you—three whole years of technical college, so much education! And what did it get you? Not only are you single, you’re back in the village working in a cowshed!”

Nina flushed.
“I’m not a milkmaid, I’m a technologist…”

“A pot is a pot, no matter how you turn it—it’s still not a vase. You coming or what?”

“I’m coming.”

Nina’s mood soured instantly. She and Tamara had been friends since childhood, but Tamara always knew exactly how to hit where it hurt. Nina had often thought she should just walk away from this friendship and have some peace. But she couldn’t. Tamara was like an addiction: more beautiful, more confident, more daring—more everything.

 

Nina had always tried to imitate her friend, never realizing that Tamara’s role was for her— and Tamara was the one who benefited. Standing next to Nina only made Tamara look brighter, sharper, more striking.

Since childhood Tamara had been the reason boys got into fights — first in her own village, later even in the neighboring ones. And even now no man could walk past her without staring. Jet-black hair, vivid blue eyes, lips as plump as the ones painted on magazine covers. And that figure — good grief. A tiny waist, wide hips, a chest that could stop traffic on a highway. When Tamara picked a target, the poor guy never stood a chance.

And yet, marriage somehow always slipped through her fingers. Either the suitors got bored before things got serious, or they ran off after spending a bit more time with her. A few men, of course, carried their love for her through the years like some tragic banner. Tamara would occasionally warm them up with a bit of attention — just enough so they wouldn’t wander too far.

 

***

That night wasn’t just a dance—it was the Agriculture Day celebration. Tamara worked as a cashier in the only village store, and her customers were exactly those same farm workers being honored tonight. So, naturally, she was going to celebrate “as one of them.”

Rumor said some singers from the city were coming—not Pugacheva, of course, but still.

The director of the local farm got up on stage, droning through the usual congratulations before getting to the point. A new family had arrived—an agronomist with a degree from the capital, and his wife, who would be teaching at the local school.

“Of course,” the director added, “we all remember Alex Shevtsov, who studied here, then left for the army. And we are grateful that someone with a capital-city education returned home to work…”

Tamara gasped and jabbed Nina in the ribs.
“Look! That’s Alex Shevtsov!”

“No way! Oh… you’re right…”

And they really were looking.

The scrawny boy who used to get smacked by every bully in school was gone. The man on stage was tall, muscular, well-dressed—sharp suit, expensive watch, stylish haircut. He didn’t look like he belonged to this village anymore.

In that moment, Alex became Tamara’s next target.

On the way home, Nina tried to talk sense into her friend.
“Tamara, are you crazy? He’s married!”

“Did you even see her?” Tamara wrinkled her nose. “She’s like a dried-out fish! How did he even marry her?”

“Who cares what she looks like? She’s his wife. End of story!”

“End of story? My story hasn’t even started. I want Alex to ditch his dried-up little fish and realize I’m his fate.”

Nina stomped her foot.
“You talk like Alex is already chasing you across the fields!”

Tamara just laughed.
“Nina, after all these years—you still doubt me?”

She went inside her yard, leaving Nina shaking her head.

That witch would break a family without blinking. She’d done the same once to Nina—stole a boyfriend just for sport, played with him a bit, then dumped him. The poor guy packed up and moved to the city. Nina followed him, begged, pleaded… he still whispered, “Tamara is the best…” like he was in a trance.

What did men even see in her?

Nina made up her mind: she needed to meet Alex’s wife and warn her.

***

The chance came the next day. Nina spotted her by the riverbank—thin, pale, almost translucent. Collecting wildflowers.

They introduced themselves. Her name was Dasha.

“I was so scared to move to a village,” Dasha admitted. “I’ve never lived like this a single day. Alex’s mom isn’t very happy with me, but I’m trying.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Nina frowned. “You’re Alex’s wife, not hers.”

“Well… she says if I can’t lift a cast-iron pot to shove it into the stove, then I’m defective. But I really can’t lift it… it’s like, fifty pounds.”

“And Alex?”

“Oh, I don’t tell him. He worries enough. I don’t want to cause conflict with his mother.”

They chatted until Alex arrived.

“Dasha! You scared me! I thought you’d gone back to the city without me.”

She rushed into his arms.
“Don’t be silly. Where would I go without you? And look—I made a friend. Nina. We’ll be great friends!”

Nina waved goodbye. Lord… she was so fragile, so gentle, so innocent—too soft for this place.

The next day Alex’s mother, Tatyana Serǵеyevna, came to the store. Lips pursed, displeased as ever.

Tamara handed her change with a smile.
“So, how’s the new daughter-in-law? Lucky you—so educated and urban.”

The older woman groaned.
“Lucky? She’s a disaster! Can’t do a thing. How Alex fell in love with her—I’ll never know!”

Tamara leaned over the counter.
“Well, at least she’s educated.”

“What good is that? In a village, a woman should be… well, a woman! I told her to peel potatoes yesterday—she did it in rubber gloves. Says her skin cracks otherwise!”

Tamara’s eyes gleamed.
“Well, maybe send her back to the city? I can help, you know…”

The older woman gave her a long look.
“You’re after my Alex, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, Serǵеyevna. I am.”

Within two days, Tamara was invited over for tea.

Alex was out; Dasha was grading school notebooks. They offered tea, and Dasha, unsuspecting as a lamb, joined them.

Tamara began lightly:
“Serǵеyevna, you don’t feed your daughter-in-law?”

“Oh, I feed her,” the older woman grumbled. “But it’s useless. She won’t gain a pound. Says she ‘needs to dance.’”

“Dance?” Tamara choked. “What’s so hard about dancing?”

Dasha smiled timidly.
“In the dance style I train in, even one extra pound makes movement harder.”

Tamara gave her a long, cold look.
“You should quit those dances. Your husband will leave you if you stay this… dried-up. Plenty of real women around.”

She stood, flaunting her curves.
Dasha shrank, thanked them for the tea, and escaped.

Serǵеyevna flashed Tamara a thumbs-up.

Tamara went straight to Alex’s office afterward, bending, posing, flirting so blatantly that Alex broke into sweat. Something felt off—but it flattered him all the same.

***

By the weekend, Dasha looked exhausted when she met Nina at the river.

“What happened?”

“Oh, don’t ask. First his mother pecked at me alone, and now Tamara’s coming around constantly. I know she wants Alex. And I can’t do anything…”

“Why not? Take a poker and smack her across the back. That’s how it’s done here.”

Dasha burst into tears.
“I can’t. My family always solved everything peacefully… talked it out. I can’t fight like this. I think… I think I’ll have to leave…”

“No. Absolutely not. I already lost one person that way. I won’t lose you too. Tell me everything she says, what you answer, how these visits go. We’ll come up with a plan.”

When Dasha finished, Nina asked:
“Wait… what kind of dancing do you do?”

As Dasha explained, Nina’s eyes slowly lit up.

“Dasha… don’t cry. You’re going to wipe the floor with all of them.”

***

New Year’s Eve in the village was a huge event. Tables, music, lights—and a concert where anyone could perform. Everyone prepared for months.

For Tamara, this night was meant to be her triumph. She was going to seduce Alex right after the show—right under everyone’s noses. Let that frail little fish watch her win.

Dasha saw her husband drifting away. She saw the smug look on her mother-in-law’s face. Before the holiday she told Nina:

“I can’t do it… I can’t dance. Not like this, with everything on my mind…”

“Do you want to save your marriage? Do you love Alex?”

“Of course I do…”

“Then this is your chance. And honestly—it’s even better that Tamara’s glued to him. He’ll see the contrast immediately. You haven’t told him anything about their visits?”

“No.”

“Good girl. Trust me—you can do this.”

Right then Alex walked in—with Tamara on his arm.

Dasha narrowed her eyes.
Can’t do anything? Too skinny? We’ll see about that.

She grabbed her suitcase and went to change.

Alex looked around.
Where was she? She said she’d come…

Tamara leaned closer.
“Probably ran away. Realized she doesn’t belong here…”

But then the host announced:

“And now—an unexpected highlight of the evening! Dasha Shevtsova!”

Alex choked on his drink.
His mother stared at Tamara.
Tamara shrugged smugly.
“This’ll be hilarious,” she muttered.

The lights went out.

A moment later, red spotlights lit the stage.

And out stepped an eastern beauty—clad in shimmering, translucent traditional fabrics.

It was Dasha.

Alex’s jaw dropped.
He had no idea his wife could look like this.

The music hit—sharp, dramatic, foreign.
Dasha raised her arms.
In each hand was a real saber.

Nina froze. She’d seen this dance before, and she knew those sabers were razor-sharp.

At the start of the dance, Dasha plucked an orange from Alex’s table, tossed it into the air—and sliced it into perfect wedges mid-flight.

People gasped.
Tamara turned pale.

Dasha had never danced like this—powerful, precise, mesmerizing. People from the back rows stood up and moved closer.

When the music stopped, everyone stood in stunned silence.

Dasha, her clothes rustling softly, walked up to Tamara.

With a single swipe of the saber, she slit Tamara’s blouse straight down the center.

Then she said, loud and clear:

“Keep away from my family. Or my next dance will be with you.”

She turned to Alex’s mother.
Serǵеyevna shrank in her seat.

Tamara grabbed the halves of her blouse and fled the hall.

The crowd erupted in applause.

Dasha left to change.

***

Alex and Dasha soon had twin girls. By age three, they were already dancing with their dance.
Alex’s mother became the most devoted grandmother and mother-in-law. She told everyone in the village what a wonderful daughter-in-law she had.

Alex and Dasha never discussed what might have happened to their marriage—because nothing happened.

Tamara never found happiness in the village. She left soon after that New Year’s night.

And Nina?
Her boyfriend came back eventually.
He apologized for a long, long time.
And she had to forgive him.

Sometimes life gives second chances.

 

Irina Mer