by Paddy Eger
“You mean he flirts with other women while you’re out on a date?”
“We’re not dating; we’re just friends, Lynne.”
Lynne laughed. “Of course you are. You don’t need to worry about his type, Marta. They never get serious. Now Steve, on the other hand, fell hard in your case. How’s he doing?”
“I haven’t heard from him lately.”
“I’m sure he’ll call soon. For now, forget about him and Dennis and concentrate on finding a great guy for me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Lynne always brightened Marta’s moods with her outlandish comments. Marta needed to forget about Steve and Dennis and focus on things she could control. In three days she promised to speak with the advanced ballet class. Time to plan what she’d mention to her former classmates. Auditions and dancing with the ballet company, of course. Her injury as well. Would they think she’d thrown away her career since it ended so quickly? She’d know next Wednesday.
5
Marta walked to the dance studio to allow extra time to rehearse speaking to the advanced ballet class that met year-round. Lindsay told Marta she'd invited parents to attend as well. She'd suggested Marta discuss strategies for tryouts, her daily routines at the ballet company, and other bits to encourage the dancers.
As Marta stepped off the curb, her thoughts focused on what she'd mention to the waiting girls. A car honked. The lady driver shook her head. Marta jumped back, stepping off-balance into the gutter. She stared after the car, then drew in several deep breaths as she watched it continue along Burwell. She stepped back onto the sidewalk, watching the traffic breeze past, waiting for her heart rate to slow to normal.
Her near-miss with the car jumbled her ideas about what she wanted to say. Hopefully she'd remember them once she started speaking. Right now she needed to pay attention to where she stood. She waited for a break in the traffic, crossed the street, and walked into the studio.
As she entered the practice room, she felt her heartbeat quicken. A large circle of dancers and parents sat chatting. One chair in the circle remained empty beside Lindsay Holland. Lindsay stood to greet her.
“Here’s our Marta now. Right on time. Everyone, I’m sincerely proud to introduce Marta Selbryth, my first ever professional dancer."
The circle of parents and students clapped. Marta bowed her head and curtsied.
She recognized several classmates from last spring. Most were high school juniors from West Bremerton, a couple attended East Bremerton, and one drove in from Central Kitsap for classes. Rosalia was the only new student face. None of the dancers had become her close friends. Why was that? Was she hard to approach? She didn't think so. She'd easily made friends with her corps de ballet friends Lynne and Bartley.
Lindsay stepped toward Marta and took her arm, directing her to join the group. "I've invited Marta to give our young dancers a chance to reacquaint themselves with her and ask those burning questions they keep asking me."
Everyone chuckled.
Marta sat, crossed her ankles, and straightened her spine as she smiled, looking around the circle. "Thank you for inviting me. It's wonderful to be back in the studio."
"Let me start," Lindsay said. "Tell us the best part about performing as a professional dancer."
Marta nodded and bit her lip. Talking about dancing carried her back to the moments before the first time the curtain went up and she realized she'd become a professional dancer. Her stomach did flip flops. "All the practicing, the blisters, and the tiredness disappeared as I stepped onto the stage. You know how you feel when it's your birthday or when it's Christmas? Roll those two events together and you'll begin to understand. During every performance, the huge professional sets, the fancy costumes, the live orchestra music, and the choreography swept me up. As corps dancers we frame the soloists, but we also add depth and fill the stage with our dancing in the village and ballroom scenes. I was lucky to take lessons from Miss Holland. Learning famous choreography while I danced here gave me confidence, and it will for you too."
"How do you learn so many dances?" one parent asked. "I've heard that you only work a few weeks on a new ballet."
“That's true. At the ballet company we learned several dances at the same time to cut down on the amount of time we need for a new ballet. It confused me for a bit, so I suggest you tackle as much choreography as possible while you’re here. That will help you become familiar with more ballet music as you prepare you for audition choreography."
Marta paused and noticed Lindsay's appreciative smile. "In Billings we danced on a wonderful stage. We had dressings rooms with lighted mirrors and—"
"Did you receive flowers on stage?" asked one dancer.
“Yes and no. Only the principal dancers, the artistic director, and the conductor receive flowers from the patrons. I was a corps dancer, but my mom and my friends brought me flowers like yours do after your recital.”
“Did you perform with famous dancers or go on tours?” Rosalia asked.
“No famous dancers came last year, but Patrice who’s our principal ballerina, is a wonderful dancer and is well-known in Montana. Our company does a Nutcracker tour each November and December. It was fun, but lots of the stages were not good for dancers. Some cement floors gave us shin splints; other turned out to be old wooden stages that ruined our pointe shoes with splinters.”
“What ballets did you dance? And did you have any solos?”
“I danced in the corps in Coppelia, the Nutcracker, and Sleeping Beauty. I had two solos: Mother Ginger in the Nutcracker and the evil fairy, Carabosse, in Sleeping Beauty.”
Lindsay spoke up. “Tell the parents about your practices. They think I work their daughters too long and too hard sometimes.”
Several parents nodded and whispered to each other.
“Lindsay’s classes are exactly what dancers need to be prepared. We practiced five days a week, morning and afternoon, except performance days when times vary. We danced six hours a day, including warm-ups, learning and rehearsing our choreography, and attending meetings. I’d usually go back to where I lived and practice in the evenings as well.”
Several girls looked to each other and grimaced. Many moms shook their heads; a few frowned. Lindsay shrugged.
“Did they make you practice on your own in the evenings?”
Marta smiled. “No. I chose to practice on my own because I wanted to show them I could be as close to perfect as possible. And I needed the extra time to work on my turns and extensions.”
“So, you were allowed to do things in the evening if you wanted like go to a movie or on a date?”
A titter of laughter followed. The girls glanced at their mothers. Their mothers glanced toward them with cautious stares.
“Remember, you’re not stepping into a dance academy. You’ll live on your own and make your own rules when you’re away from the company. It’s important to be rested for each day’s rehearsals, to eat properly, and to make good decisions every day. I signed a contract that said I needed to act professionally at all times, attend all practices and performances, and to not take any risks that would jeopardize my dancing.”
Head bobs and raised eyebrows greeted any girl looking toward her mother.
Lindsay stood and walked to the record player. “Let’s stop for a minute. I want you ladies to share your choreography from Bizet’s Symphony in C. I’m excited for your mothers and Marta to see your leaps and turns.”
As the girls lined up and began their dance, Marta sat back, enjoying the chance to watch them dance. Most performed passable leaps, turns, and footwork but weren’t ready for professional auditions. Their crossing patterns needed work, except for Rosalia. No wonder adults raved about her. She commanded everyone’s attention without trying.
The adults applauded as the girls reassembled at the circle of chairs. Each dancer looked to Miss Holl
and for her comments. She shrugged and smiled. “Not bad. I see improvements since our class earlier today. This is a lively selection, so we’ll keep working on the crossing patterns and your facial expressions in hopes of being ready to perform it during our winter programs.” She turned her attention to Marta. “So, did anything ever go wrong when you were dancing?”
Marta laughed. “Oh yes. Most performances we had little mistakes with footwork as well as dancing in unison. When I was Mother Ginger I wore short stilts. One boy pinched my leg to see if it was real. I almost fell. Then, when I was Carabosse in Sleeping Beauty, I had a quick costume change. My dark make-up got smeared on the back of my neck. I think my wig covered it; I hope so anyway.”
“When are you going back to Billings?” asked Rosalia.
“’I’m not sure.” Marta hesitated, deciding how to encourage the girls despite her problems. “Dancing in a ballet company requires long hours of practicing and performing. Since I broke a small bone in my ankle, I haven’t been able dance in pointe shoes. I’m hoping to be able to put my full body weight on that ankle so that one day I’ll dance en pointe again.”
One younger dancer asked, “What are you doing until you can dance again?”
Marta read sympathy on her former classmates’ faces, the last thing she wanted to deal with. She put on a stage smile. “For now, I’m home. I just finished working on the community theatre teen play last week. I’m beginning women’s exercise classes and kinder classes for Miss Holland very soon. Both will help me continue my healing.”
“How did you get injured?“ Rosalia’s mother asked.
“I fell off an icy porch and landed on rocky ground.”
“You’re a professional dancer and you fell? Wasn’t that careless of you?” said the same mother.
Lindsay stood again. “I think that’s enough questions for today. You’ll see Marta here over the next few months. She may even drop in on your classes. If you promise not to bug her to death, we’ll meet again as fall session begins, okay? Now, for a surprise. Marta brought Intermountain Ballet programs. Follow her into the small practice room. The physical therapist is gone for the day so you can slip in there. Marta will answer a few more questions and autograph the programs she brought. While you girls do that, I’ll speak with your mothers. See you all next class.”
As Marta finished and gathered the extra programs, she thought all the girls and mothers had left. Hearing a strident voice as she approached the large practice room surprised her.
“True. But what does Marta know? She danced one season for that second rate ballet company. Billings? Really? I didn’t put Rosalia in this ballet studio to receive guidance from a young, washed-up dancer. My daughter has real talent. She’s on her way to becoming a star. She needs a real professional.”
Marta scooted out of sight in the room and sat down on the stairs to the upper floor. Rosalia’s mother sounded angry. Even so, why did she say such horrible things? Was she a washed up dancer, a has-been? Granted, Billings was not a premier ballet company like the New York City or the San Francisco Ballet, but they performed across a large region to packed theatres. She had lots to offer dancers starting their careers. But working with Rosalia might not be a great idea if her mom was so demanding. Marta sat in the darkened stairway until she heard her own mother and Lindsay talking in the studio office.
As Marta entered Lindsay smiled. “Thanks for coming down and for bringing the girls programs. I think it went well, except for Rosalia’s mother just now. Did you hear any of the things she said?”
“I did. Sounds like she doesn’t want me to work with her daughter.”
Lindsay shrugged. “What can I say? She’s a hard woman to understand. So, did you spot my most promising dancers?”
“Paige and Rosalia stand out,” Marta said.
“Good eye, Marta. I’d like you to give them pointers and let them compete informally against each other to prepare for spring auditions.”
Marta smiled. “I’d like that. I can start whenever you want. I’ll need to work in ballet slippers if that’s okay.”
Lindsay laughed. “I guess you didn’t notice. I always work in ballet slippers.”
Marta puzzled over that for a long minute. “Hm-m. I never thought about that. So, any excuses for my not teaching aren’t needed. I’ll fit right in with my ballet slippers.”
“You’ll more than fit in!”
After overhearing the conversation, Marta asked the question burning a hole in her confidence. “Will both families give you permission to teach their girls? I’m not really a teacher.”
“You’re better than a teacher, Marta. You’ve danced professionally, so you know what ballet companies are looking for in dancers.”
Marta’s insides twisted like a stomach cramp. She hesitated, then said, “But what about what Rosalia’s mother said to you about me being washed up?”
“That woman,” Marta’s mom chimed in. “She’s always stirring up things. I know a lot about her that she thinks is a secret. Cornish wanted Rosalia, but they didn’t want Mrs. Marcus in their school. She’s the first stage mom they’ve kicked out because she’s so rude and inappropriate.”
“Really?” Lindsay frowned. “She is difficult, but Rosalia’s talented. I’m sorry you heard her latest rant. I’ll work with her and try to explain how valuable you are to Rosalia’s auditions. Again, I’m sorry. Mrs. Marcus was totally out of line. Do you want an apology?”
Marta shook her head. With any luck she’d avoid speaking with Mrs. Marcus all together.
A week later, Marta entered the dance studio and heard a familiar laugh. Lily Rose stood filling out paperwork.
“Marta! Are your ears burning? We’re talking about you. I’ve signed up Olivia and just learned you’re starting a women’s exercise class.”
”I am. It starts at nine next Wednesday. We’ll meet every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“Do you have room for four more women?”
“She does,” said Marta’s mom, tapping her desk calendar.
“Great. I’ll have my friends call.” Lily Rose passed her paperwork across the desk and picked up her purse. “Got to scoot to my haircut. See you next Wednesday.”
Marta watched her breeze out the door.
“She’s a bubbly person,” her mom said. “I remember her now; she was a teen star. When she married her high school sweetheart, a lot of fans were disappointed. He’s a baby doctor in town. Olivia is their only child.”
“You learned all that from her paperwork?”
“No. She’s chatty. You know that large home on north Lafayette, the one with the gray brick front and the huge sloping front yard? That’s hers. Says she does all her own cleaning and cooking, but she lets her husband hire a lawn service.”
Marta nodded and decided it must be nice to have your own home. Right now she could barely afford bus tokens. But after she took over dance classes, she’d have money and could start looking for a place to rent near her mom’s so she could keep her ride to the dance studio. There was no way she could afford a car, even an old clunker.
h
August 19. The first day of kinder classes. Marta pulled her ponytail back and added a bright bow. She’d hung posters of baby animals as inspiration for the young children and found kinder music in Lindsay’s record collection. Now all she needed were the four little ones signed up for her class.
At 9:20 she stood in the entry, ready to greet her students. Today she’d allow the parents to participate. Once the kids became comfortable with her, the parents would have one day every month to watch class.
Three little girls and one boy arrived wearing shorts and T-shirts. Lily Rose smiled at Marta as she helped Olivia put on her ballet slippers. Marta smiled back, feeling comfortable about her first class. When all the adults finished assisting their kids with their shoes, Marta put on quiet music an
d sat on the floor
“Welcome everyone. My name is Marta. Today I’d like all students and parents to sit on the floor with me and listen to the music for a minute.”
Three children sat tight against their parents; one sat pressed against her grandmother. Having their support was vital. Since she was unknown to the children, she’d start slowly. Soon enough they’d run in, put on their own slippers, and forget how shy they’d been early on.
“Today you and your grown-up partners will dance and play together. Let’s start by sitting crisscross applesauce. Cross your ankles and pull your feet close to your body, then rock side to side so your froggy knees will stretch out.”
Near the end of class, Marta brought out scarves as she and Lynne had done with their young dancers. “Now, when I start the music, I want you to move with the scarves. You need to stay inside this room, but you are free to hop and skip and jump as long as you don’t run into anyone when you move. Stand up, and when I start the music, I’ll say ‘dance.’ Then you may start moving around. When the music stops, you must stop as well.”
After everyone stood, Marta started a recording of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the Flowers. “Dance.”
The room came alive as the children and the adults filled the room with waves of color as they danced, swaying, turning and waving the scarves. Lily Rose and her daughter danced and laughed as if they’d done this many times on their own. Even the grandmother joined in. Marta danced with them, watching for the perfect moment to stop them before things got silly.
Marta collected the scarves and said good bye to each red-faced child. “See you on Thursday. Your grown-up partners are invited to join us once again. Until then, keep dancing!”
Lily Rose and Olivia stayed after the others left. “That was so much fun, right Olivia?”
Olivia nodded. “Can we do scarves again when we come?”
“Of course,” Marta said. “We’ll do scarves many more times.”
“You are a natural with young children,” Lily Rose said as she helped Olivia pack her dance bag. “I’m so glad we found you.” The pair waved as they left the room.