by Paddy Eger
Marta heard them stop to talk with her mom as she put the records and scarves away. If she were to judge this first class, she’d give herself an A grade, something she seldom earned in high school.
Before she began her personal exercise session, she made a list of recordings she’d need to locate for the kinders. She wanted songs with simple movements: “Farmer in the Dell”, “Muffin Man”, “Old MacDonald”, “You Are My Sunshine”, and “Skip to My Lou”. For the spring recital “The Bunny Hop”, “Little Teapot”, or “Twinkle, Twinkle” would make a cute dance. A wave of calmness spread inside her. She’d pass her childhood music onto these little ones. Hopefully planning for the exercise class would prove as easy.
After she completed her exercises, Marta turned her attention to the 90-minute adult exercise classes scheduled to begin tomorrow at 9:00 and continue every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday throughout the year. She’d use the class as part of her daily regimen, then follow it up with another hour of personal practice.
Marta planned to begin with her barre music, then follow that with current top hits like Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me” for slow movements, Fats Domino’s “I’m Walkin” for vigorous movements, and Elvis Presley’s “All Shook Up” for crazy, fast movements. That should get every woman’s heart racing, including hers.
She’d watched American Bandstand to observe the latest dance crazes: the Bop, the Chalypso, and the still-present Twist could be fun. Maybe she’d toss in ballroom dance steps as well. After she met the women she’d make that decision. She’d definitely make circle skirts or have them bring one from home for dancing to the modern tunes.
h
Wednesday, Marta and her mom arrived early and found the parking lot already half full. Eight women stood near the door as Marta unlocked it and turned on the lights.
“Morning, ladies,” she said with a smile. “I’m Marta. Welcome to your exercise class. Follow me.”
The entry fell quiet as the women stepped into the practice room and stepped out of their street clothes and stood waiting for direction. The original four women registered for the class wore shorts and t-shirts and ankle socks. Their orders for basic black leotards and ballet slippers were expected to arrive soon.
Lily Rose’s friends, the Pill Hill ladies, folded their fancy sweat suits, stripping down to reveal stylish black leotards with spaghetti straps and black ballet wrap skirts, probably ordered from a specialty catalog, not the dance studio. Their ballet slippers had been dyed green, orange, blue, and hot pink.
Marta looked down at her basic black outfit feeling under dressed. She could only imagine what the ladies in shorts were thinking. But clothes didn’t matter once they started class. Flexibility and rhythm didn’t depend on their style of clothing.
From their information cards she knew her class consisted of the original four women, stay-at-home housewives, whose husbands worked in the shipyard, managed small shops, or worked in Callow-area businesses. Lily Rose’s four from Pill Hill were the wives of a doctor, tax accountant, lawyer, and a dentist. If any of these rich women were expecting special treatment from Marta, they’d be disappointed. She inhaled and exhaled deeply and invited everyone to sit on the practice room floor.
“Welcome, ladies. This class will use basic barre warm-ups, plus we’ll explore various dance forms to build up our heart rates and make us sweat.”
The ladies chuckled and looked around, eyeing each other.
“We’ll begin by standing about three feet apart at the barres with our left hands resting on the top metal bar.” Marta waited as the women shuffled around to find a spot.
“Use the barre as support. Try to keep a light touch on it rather than a death grip. We’ll do exercises working the right side of our bodies, then turn and do the same for the left. Your toes will always be pointing outward, and your heels will be touching or close together much of the time. “I’ll demonstrate each movement, then lead you through them. Let’s begin.”
Marta started the warm-up music she used daily. She demonstrated each move in slow motion, then restarted the music and led the women through the basics: plies, a series of battements, ronds de jambs, and developpés. As they worked, she circled the group, adjusting sickled feet, poor posture, and static arms. Their quietness suggested they were deep in thought, much like she’d be learning new choreography.
“You are all doing very well. I want you to look in the mirrors and watch four parts of your body as I mention them. First, your spine. Keep your back straight. Pretend you have a marionette string stretching upward through your back and neck, pulling you as tall as possible.”
“I think my string is broken,” Trish said.
The women laughed, but Marta noticed immediate changes in their posture. “Don’t worry, you’ll get all of this figured out. Next, watch your arms. Keep them rounded like you’re carrying a beach ball. We want our arms to look graceful, as if our elbows have disappeared.” Marta walked around and adjusted their arms.
“This is harder than it looks,” Frann said. “There’s so much to think about.”
Chuckles circled the room, but the ladies held their concentration on their arms.
“Now, third, keep your feet in line with your legs. Otherwise you’ll have sickled, or curved, feet. Your hip to your toes should create a straight line. If you start to feel a cramp, relax your foot. When you’re ready, check your face and head. Try to relax and not make faces as you move. Remember, you want to make everything look effortless.”
“No wonder little kids dance with their tongues out!” Trixie said.
Marta laughed out loud, enjoying the fact that the ladies maintained their playfulness.
After twenty minutes Marta stopped the record. “Nice work, ladies. Now shake out your arms and legs and we’ll move away from the barres and work in the center of the room. We’ll repeat the same movements, this time using only our arms and feet for balancing.”
The women wobbled and tipped as they worked to find their comfort and balance stances. All thought of conversation dropped away during this part of the class. Marta had forgotten how different center work is for people who have no dance training; she’d rethink this idea before they met again.
Next, she picked up the pace. “Let’s work on dances you can use at your clubs or parties. We’ll start with the fox trot.” She walked them through the box step, then put on Sinatra’s Come Fly With Me, letting them dance with broom handles.
“My partner is not usually this smooth,” one woman said. “Maybe I married the wrong guy.”
“Yeah,” another woman said. “Plus, these broom sticks have great personalities!”
After a few minutes the women were red-faced and sweat covered their necks and shoulders, but they all kept dancing and chatting about their unusual dance partners. Marta loved their humor and willingness to be playful. She felt her body soften, allowing her to relax and enjoy the women and laugh at their comments.
“How’s this working out for you?” Marta said. “Anyone need a break?”
They all shook their heads and kept moving. Their heavy breathing and the sweat running down their faces had ended their conversations. With ten minutes left in class, Marta stopped the music and announced, “Time for a cool down.” She sent them back to the barres to repeat plies, then added stretching movements.
At precisely 10:30, she stopped the music. “That’s it for today. Over the next few weeks we’ll add other dance moves. Let me know when I push you too much. See you back here on Friday.”
As she turned to put the records away, she stopped. “Oh, by the way, your clothing orders should arrive by Monday at the latest. Remember to bring a thermos of water for class and to drink lots of water after class as well. And if you have a circle skirt, bring it along.”
“What are you planning, Marta?” Lily Rose said. “Are we going back to the high school sock hop?”
“I plan to take you ladies lots of places,” Marta said.
The women filed out, wiping their faces and necks with the towels they’d brought. They’d kept to Marta’s pace, and if they all returned on Friday, she’d know her planning worked. She’d need to stay one or two steps ahead of these active women to hold their interest.
h
Marta’s Monday morning exercise classes warmed her up for her next challenge, her late afternoon time to work with Paige and Rosalia, if Mrs. Marcus allowed her to train with the “washed up dancer.” Somehow Rosalia’s mother had broken into Marta’s confidence. Had she gotten thin-skinned? In the ballet company all dancers faced put-downs daily. Add to that Marta’s problem with Madame Cosper. This should not have rattled her, but it did, almost as much as having the responsibility to prepare the girls for auditions.
Lindsay spoke with Mrs. Marcus before their first session and laid out the plan for Marta’s coaching the girls before their spring auditions. “I told her you were the best possible person to help Rosalia prepare for auditions since you’d experienced several within the past year. She finally conceded that she’d allow you to work with Rosie. I told her this was her only option if she stayed with our studio.”
“I’ll do what I can to satisfy her,” Marta said.
Lindsay shook her head. “Don’t you dare bend to her wishes. You know what needs to be done. Do what’s best for the girls. Leave Zandora Marcus to me.”
Marta stood at the barre waiting for the girls to arrive. She’d discussed her plan with Lindsay, and after a few tweaks, the course of action was set. She’d adjust parts of their dance warm-ups and center work, plus teach them a short selection following the procedure she’d experienced during her auditions. She didn’t plan to replicate the stony faces many directors presented, but she’d eventually tell the girls about the negative comments they might encounter. But that came much later.
When Paige and Rosalia arrived, Marta welcomed them into the practice room. She moved to sit on the floor and motioned for them to join her. “Let’s talk before we begin.”
Just then Mrs. Marcus stepped into the room and took a seat along the back wall. Marta watched as she smoothed back her black hair, propped her arms on her bowling ball bag of a purse, and leaned forward to listen to the conversation.
Nuts. Marta felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Mrs. Marcus wasn’t wasting any time being involved.
Marta stood and approached Mrs. Marcus, who straightened and squinted as Marta sat down beside her. “I’m glad you’re allowing Rosalia to work with me. I want to remind you that our practice sessions are closed; the girls and I will work alone in the room.”
“I wasn’t informed of this situation,” Mrs. Marcus said. “I’ll speak with Miss Holland about it.”
“Miss Holland requested it. I’m sure Rosalia will share what we do with you.”
Mrs. Marcus stood abruptly and glared at Marta. “Rosalia, I’ll be back in one hour. Be ready to leave when I return.” She hurrumped, adjusted her shoulders, picked up her purse, and sauntered out.
“Mrs. Marcus? Excuse me?”
Rosalia’s mother turned and looked at Marta. “What?”
“The session lasts two hours. Will that be a problem?”
“Two hours? You expect me to pay you for two hours twice a week?”
Marta paused and smiled. “No, ma’am. I’m certain Miss Holland told you the second hour is free. Do you want Rosalia to meet you after the first hour?”
“Rosalia, I’ll be back in two hours and waiting outside. Don’t dawdle.” Her high heels clicked across the entry hall, followed by the door to the parking lot slamming closed.
Marta returned to sit by the girls, noticing Rosalia kept her head down and picked at unseen lint on her leotard. “All right, ladies. Let’s get started. There are at least seven elements you’ll be assessed on during an audition. Each audition may ask for different skills, but these seven will prepare you for most anything they ask. We’ll take them one by one, adding each new part as you feel ready. Let’s begin by standing in front of the mirrors.
“Auditions are about how you present yourself. Your hair, the tidiness of your costume, the way you enter the room, and so on. So look yourself over, make adjustments, then walk back to the door. When you enter, I want you to pretend you are entering an audition. Form a line standing in fifth position and wait for further directions.”
Both girls giggled and did as they were asked. Before they’d moved more than a few steps back into the room, Marta stopped them.
“Watch me enter. This is what I saw.” Marta walked into the room looking around and standing slightly slumped forward. “You’ve got to think about this as if it were a performance. It is. Your performance begins at the door. Go back and enter as a serious dancer.”
Both girls retraced their steps and entered standing tall and looking straight ahead. They stood in fifth position and waited for Marta to speak.
“Perfect! Enter every practice this same way. In time it will become as natural as breathing. Let’s move on to warm-ups. Now, I’m looking for elongated bodies, tucked derrieres, elegant arms, and precise footwork.”
By the conclusion of the warm-ups, their practice hour ended. The quiet of the two girls surprised Marta. They looked tired and unhappy.
Paige let out a long slow breath. “That was hard. I’m exhausted. Are dance company practices this hard?”
“No, but close. Auditions are what we’re focused on. I want you to make a strong impression so the judges will watch you throughout the entire audition. You want them to see you at your absolute best.”
“Was your audition difficult?” Rosalia said.
“Absolutely. But don’t worry. We have six months. You’ll be ready by the end of March. Now, let’s move on to your solos. Show me what you’re planning to dance.”
Minute by minute the girls looked more and more stressed. After the next half hour, Marta stopped them. “Let’s slow things down. Two hours is a long time. You’ll need to build up your stamina, so today we’ll use our remaining time to answer your burning questions about auditions and whatever else is on your mind.”
The girls peppered her with questions about weigh-ins, wages, solos, dance costumes, their hair, living alone, stage makeup, costumes, and dating. Marta answered each question as truthfully as possible, trying to allay their concerns but not color their future experiences based on her point of view. When they left, they appeared to be satisfied with what she had told them. Hopefully she’d not receive a call from Mrs. Marcus over some tiny detail that Rosalia shared.
As she straightened the room, Marta thought back to her various auditions. Lindsay had done her best, but knowing more about their expectations would have helped her prepare. The fourteen intervening months since her early auditions allowed Marta to share experiences she hoped would propel Paige and Rosalia to gain positions as professional ballet dancers. They’d need to understand how difficult practices could be and how lonely they could feel as dancers.
Stardom didn’t occur magically, plucking dancers from the corps. If it arrived at all, it came after years and years of hard work and sacrifice, but she didn’t want to discourage them before they had the chance to experience dancing as professionals if dancing was truly their dream.
6
Classes rolled by smoothly. Lindsay suggested Marta add additional fall classes: two international character dances and drop-in evening exercise classes. The week after Labor Day, when schools resumed, she'd be juggling close to a full schedule if she counted the community theatre jobs she intended to continue.
Marta reached for the calendar, about to tear off August, when the phone rang. When she heard Steve's voice, a warm, buttery feeling spread through her. Marta curled the phone cord around her finger. "It's good to hear your voice again. I've missed you."
"I
t hasn't been that long, has it? I talked with you last week, Marta."
She laughed. "Actually, it’s been two weeks. You must have been busy with school.”
They talked about his busy schedule at the paper, his projects, and his December graduation from Rocky Mountain College. “I need ten hours fall term, a handful of small projects, and then it’s the big wide world.”
“Are you looking for jobs yet? Do you know where you'd like to work?”
“Honestly, I'll take what I can get," Steve said. "I'd like to go back to San Francisco. Would you consider moving there and getting a job dancing to be close to me? I miss you more than you’ll ever know, Marta.”
Would she? Marta stared out the window, seeing nothing. She'd yet to feel settled at home and discover if she was capable of dancing again. Could she uproot herself and move so soon?
"Marta? Would you consider moving?"
“What about Seattle? Are you interviewing here?”
Steve laughed. “They're on my list. I sent requests for interviews, but neither have replied yet. Would it be okay with you if I moved to Seattle?”
Marta smiled into the phone. “Are you kidding? It would be perfect.”
The phone line hummed with their silence. “Marta? You feel like you're drifting away. Are we still okay? Are you wearing the necklace I gave you last Christmas?"
"Yes, when I'm not dancing." She adjusted the necklace, then slid the pendent back and forth, feeling the chain vibrate against her skin.
"How about the bracelet?"
"Yes, that too." The bracelet demonstrated her promise to not date other guys. "Maybe I should have given you something so you'd have a reminder of me."
Steve laughed. "I don't need a reminder. I think of you every day and wish you had stayed here for your recovery. How's the ankle lately?”
"It's fine.”
"How is it being home again?"