When the Music Stops

by Paddy Eger

  “I’m committed to help Lindsay until she returns from having her baby. That means staying in Bremerton until the end of summer or longer.”

  Steve nodded. “That could work. I haven’t heard from Seattle or other papers I’m interviewing with, but I hope to know this spring. But you’d consider moving?”

  She shrugged and slid her fingers along Steve’s shoulder. “I might. It’s hard to guess what may happen between now and then.” Marta stopped moving her hand. If she wasn’t careful in what she said, she’d slip into a corner or maybe a box and lose her chance to pursue her dance dreams, if her ankle recovered. “I’d consider lots of things once we both knew where we might end up.”

  At midnight Steve opened a bottle of champagne and served Marta’s drink with an engagement ring resting in the bottom of her glass.

  Marta stared at the glass. “What’s…?”

  Steve kissed her cheek and slid around to kiss her lips. “Happy New Year. I thought I’d try asking you again.” He took her hand and led her to a couch and stared at her eyes as though expecting a reply before he asked his next question. “May I ask my burning question again? I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t think we should wait any longer.”

  Marta felt gears grinding in her head and a chill trace her spine even though sweat beaded on her upper lip. She shivered.

  “Marta?”

  She put her hand on his arm and smiled but shook her head. “I think we need to wait.”

  Steve looked stunned. He pushed himself to his feet and walked to the log bin where he grabbed a log for the fire and tossed it in. He stood with his back to Marta for several moments, then turned. “Why? What’s your excuse this time?”

  Marta pulled in her lips. She closed her eyes before she answered. “We need to wait until both of us have jobs, so we know where we’re landing. I have my recovery to continue working on and…what’s the rush?”

  For a long moment the only sound in the cabin was the crackle of the fire. Steve stared at her. “I’m twenty-three and I’m ready to settle down. I don’t want to lose you to some carpenter or a young lawyer. I don’t want you to look around and decide you can do better than me.”

  The sadness she heard in Steve’s voice ripped through her like an icy wind. If he’d gotten angry or shouted, the effect wouldn’t have been so strong. Could she convince him once again to wait while she pieced the rest of her life back together?

  When she started to speak, Steve slid his fingertips down her cheek, sliding them over to cover her lips. “Don’t say anything more, please.”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly before looking at Steve again.

  “You might be right, Marta, but I love you and I want to have you in my life every day. A few minutes ago you said you loved me.”

  “I do, but Steve—”

  “Sh-h. No buts. I know you think we need to wait, but what if I find my career in California and you find yours in Washington? How will we ever get together? Can’t you marry me and be content taking care of me?”

  “Take care of you? I can barely take care of myself, so how could I take care of you? If it weren’t for the diet--” Her eyes widened.

  Steve’s head whipped up. He grabbed her wrists. “Wait. You’re still taking those damn diet pills after what they did to Bartley?” He gave her arms a violent shake. “Marta? Tell me!”

  Tears slid down her face. “I only use them when my life is too busy to rest or eat like these past weeks working on the Christmas shows. It’s okay, Steve.”

  “No, it’s not. Stop with the pills!” He walked away from her as she reached out to touch his face. He stopped and turned. “Do you have any pills with you tonight?”

  She shrugged.

  “Show me what’s in your purse.”

  Marta’s hands trembled as she rummaged through the pockets in her purse. She pulled out two pills. She watched as Steve’s eyes trailed from the pills to her face and back to the pills. He shook his head, grabbed his coat, and disappeared out the door.

  The silence in the cabin felt as heavy as the quilt she’d wrapped up in earlier that evening. She stared around the empty room. When she heard Steve’s car start, she raced to the window in time to see him backing out of the driveway.

  h

  Marta watched the large sunburst clock on the river rock wall as the minutes passed as slow as hours. She sat by the fire, paced the room, looked out the window, and paced again. Had Steve gone for a drive, or had he driven home? Would he return for her or send Lynne to pick her up? If she’d chosen her words more carefully—

  Two a.m. Three a.m. Marta saw lights trace the row of trees lining the driveway. A car door slammed. When the cabin door opened, Steve entered, his face somber.

  “Where were you, Steve?”

  “Do you care where I was? Really?”

  “Of course I do.”

  He sat down in a nearby chair keeping his back to Marta. “I went to town to an all-night café to think.” He stood and started pacing. “Sometimes you upset me so much I want to walk away and erase you from my life.”

  The comments felt like a slap to her face. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she stood silent.

  His pacing stopped several feet from Marta. “Even though I’d like to think I could walk away from you once and for all and never return, I can’t. For some crazy reason I love you and want you to be with me.”

  “I love you too, Steve, but—”

  “Then stopped taking those blasted pills.”

  Marta lowered her face and felt herself trembling. “I can try.”

  “No, Marta. Trying isn’t good enough. I don’t want you to end up like Bartley.”

  “I’ve never taken as many pills as she did. I only take a couple a day once in a while.”

  “Listen to yourself! You’re rationalizing.” He looked around the room as though searching for an answer. Marta watched and waited.

  He shook his head. “I’ll make you a deal. You stop taking pills, and I’ll stop asking you to marry me.”

  Marta grabbed a chair back for support. “So you’re giving up on me?”

  “No. I’m asking you to stop because you need to stop. I’ll quit hounding you until I have a permanent job and you’ve recovered. Deal, Marta?”

  “I guess. I’m beginning to manage more than a few days at a time. When Lindsay needed me to take over the Christmas programs and the upcoming recital details, I tried to avoid the pills, but that responsibility put a lot of pressure on me.”

  “I get that, but you need to make a change. I’d hoped you’d do it for me, for us, but that didn’t happen. Just do it for yourself.” He checked his watch. “It’s after three. When I came in it started snowing, so the temperature is dropping. I suggest you sleep on the couch by the fire. I’ll be in the loft if you need anything.”

  Steve disappeared up the ladder without giving her a kiss or hug. She watched him step off the ladder and disappear into the bedroom. After she turned off the lamps, she stood at the window watching it snow. She touched the spider frost on the glass with her finger; their twist and turns resembled twists and turns in lives. She saw Bartley’s life like the short finger of ice. The diet pills she had taken over several years destroyed her. Marta saw herself as a long trail of ice. Sure she’d taken pills, but only when she needed a boost of energy. That made a difference, didn’t it?

  h

  At dawn, Marta watched Steve climb down the ladder. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.” Steve’s voice sounded mechanical. “Did you sleep?”

  She closed the blanket she had draped over her shoulders. “Not much. How about you?”

  Steve shrugged. “I think I slept, but not for very long.” He stepped toward the kitchen, then stopped and turned to face Marta. “We should pack up and head back to town. How long do you need?”

&n
bsp; “I’m ready now.” Marta loosened the blanket she’d wrapped up in and folded it. “Can we stop along the way so I can call Lynne? Maybe I can stay with her until I fly out tomorrow.”

  Steve nodded but didn’t look at Marta. “Sounds good.”

  Neither spoke during the drive down the mountains, making the trip long and sad. Should she have lied and taken the ring? Maybe the diet pills would have never become an issue if she had. Their relationship was rocky, but it always ended up sorting itself out. Would that pattern continue this time?

  Marta phoned Lynne from each small town on their way back to Billings. No answer. Fidgets circled inside her; the longer they drove, the more her options shrank.

  After a final call to Lynne from a phone booth in Laurel, Marta shook her head as she returned to the car.

  “Stay at my parents’ house. They’re gone for the day. I’ll make up an excuse for you if you want.”

  Marta shook her head. “Just drive me there to pick up my clothes, then drop me off at the Rim View Inn. I can get myself to the airport in the morning.”

  “That’s not necessary, Marta. Stay at my parents.”

  Tears puddled in her eyes. “No. Please, just do this one simple thing for me.”

  h

  An hour later Marta stood in one of the motel’s rooms, gazing at a thin orange bedcover, same as when she’d first arrived in Billings. Only the view was different. This room overlooked the parking area.

  She sat down on the bed and stared at the wall, seeing and feeling nothing beyond the draft of cool air slipping under the door. She pulled the bedspread around her shoulders and paced the small area. Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, turn.

  She opened the curtain. Snow filtered down, caught a breeze, and drifted upward. She closed the curtain and returned to pacing: step, step, step, turn.

  Darkness crept in around the edges of the curtain. When she looked out, the drifting flakes from earlier in the day swirled like mini tornadoes and covered the cars parked in the lot, making them appear like rumpled blankets under a white coverlet.

  The bar and restaurant she’d remembered from last year were gone, replaced by a near-vacant room with vending machines offering potato chips, candy bars, and pretzels. Marta opened her purse. Two dollars and two bus tokens; she’d need to save them to get all the way home. She’d wait for the breakfast on the flight home in the morning.

  Marta dialed Operator and placed a collect call home. No answer. She tried Lynne; still no answer, so she returned to her room and paced. Step, step, step, turn.

  When she tired of pacing, she looked out the window one more time, then climbed under the bedcovers. The trip that began with happiness and reunions shifted to confrontations and hurt feelings. Perhaps it was just as well she’d not seen Madame Cosper. Why open herself up to any further confrontations? She closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to arrive.

  Darkness. Coldness. A strange sensation shivered through her body. She dreamed she stood on The Rims as she’d done in dreams so many times before. Suddenly a hand reached out and pushed her. The loose gravel beneath her feet propelled her forward. Falling, falling, spiraling like a helicopter, she twisted toward the rock-strewn base. Crash!

  She fell off the bed, grazing her head against the sharp corner of the bedside table. A trickle of blood stained her hand. She allowed her tears to flow, hoping they’d stop the deep ache tearing at her heart. 1959 was not beginning as she’d hoped.

  h

  Evening had settled in by the time Marta landed at Sea-Tac airport, caught a bus into Seattle, and took the ferry back to Bremerton. She rode the nearly empty city bus to Lafayette, then walked along the narrow, twisting road to Corbett Drive, feeling the weight of her suitcase pull through her arms while the weight of her conversation pulled at the rest of her body.

  Her little house sat in darkness as though the trees wanted to protect her. Inside the house a dampness swept through every room, matching the icy coolness of her mood. She dumped her suitcase inside the door, took off her coat and crawled under the bed covers. She expected to drop into an exhausted sleep, but the way she’d left things with Steve kept her awake much of the night. She couldn’t erase the expression on his face when he challenged her about the diet pills and the way he turned away and left her standing in the cabin. Had she broken their relationship beyond repair over a couple of linty pills?

  11

  Bang, bang, bang.

  “Marta? Honey? Are you there?”

  Marta woke with a start. Morning light filtered in around the edge of her bedroom shade. She threw back her bed covers and hurried to the front door. When she saw her mom’s anxious face, she realized she’d forgotten to call her.

  “Hi, Mom. Sorry I didn’t call you from the terminal. It was so late I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Her mom frowned. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

  “I am. Guess I’m not a good traveler.” Marta ruffled her hair and turned toward her bathroom. “Give me five minutes.”

  “How was everyone? I hope you got to see Lynne and the others.”

  Marta emerged carrying her dance tote. “I did. They’re all fine. Steve’s family had a party for me and invited the boarding house renters, plus Lynne and the little girls.”

  “What a wonderful surprise! And how was Steve? Excited to have finished school?”

  “Yes. Now he’s job hunting.” Marta grabbed her purse. “Let’s go. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” She held the door for her mom, then stopped to lock it.

  In the car Marta yawned and closed her eyes. “I’m still tired. Have you spoken to Lindsay since Christmas?”

  “No.” Her mom tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove along Fifteenth and turned onto Callow. Marta felt her mom scrutinizing her. “Marta, is there some reason you’ve not mentioned Steve?”

  She nodded and looked away. “Sorta. We’re taking a break. I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  For the rest of the drive to the dance studio, neither spoke. As they entered, Marta headed upstairs rather than saying anything else to her mom. Lindsay wouldn’t be in until afternoon, so that gave Marta time to compose herself to face her first challenge, the eight women in the exercise class due to walk in any minute.

  She stood at the barre doing pliés as the women chattered their way up the stairs. Their expected energy presented a challenge today. Best for her to paste on a performance smile until she’d managed her changing situation with Steve.

  “Marta! How was your holiday?” asked Tricia.

  “Great,” Marta said, smiling. “How about all of you?”

  The consensus was everyone had great family times, the kids liked their gifts, and the dances at the country club were a success. “You should have seen our husbands dancing,” Trixie said. “Everyone wanted to know where they took lessons. We did as you requested, saying it was a special holiday offering from the dance studio.”

  “Lot of good that did,” Lily Rose said. “Zandora Marcus hovered nearby, and when she heard us talking ballroom, she quickly hinted that her friend’s Arthur Murray studio offers ballroom dance lessons year round. She even passed out business cards for her friend.”

  “That sounds like what I’d expect.” Marta winced at the mention of her ballroom classes in front of the four women who’d not been included. Too late to do anything about that now. She’d need to do something special for them soon to keep things even among the women. For now she put on the barre music. “Let’s get started.”

  After a two-week break in classes, the women moved as stiffly as Marta felt. Their center work lacked energy, and their dancing to Buddy Holly’s “That’ll Be the Day” didn’t have its usual pizzazz. Thank heavens their need to concentrate helped Marta hide her fuzzy focus.

  “Looks like we’re all a bit tired today.” Marta removed t
he record from the turntable and smiled. “Rest up. Dance around the house. See you Wednesday.”

  As the women grabbed their towels and bags and exited, Lily Rose lingered. “Sorry. We forgot the other exercise class women and their husbands weren’t included in our little dance lessons. Let us make it up to them and you. At our next exercise class, I’ll suggest all nine of us go as a group to the country club to lunch. We want to hear all about your visit with your boyfriend.”

  Marta clenched her jaw to hold back the tears that threatened. “Thanks for noticing and offering, but I’ve got several projects due for the dance studio. Could we do it another week?”

  Lily Rose tipped her head and watched Marta’s face. “Sure. Whatever works for you. See you tomorrow when I bring Olivia to class.” She grabbed her exercise bag and left.

  A sigh escaped Marta’s lips. She walked to the counter and unwrapped the 1959 calendar from Capezio, the dance shoe and clothing company. The dancers in the photo atop the calendar wore long white Swan Lake gowns with white feather headdresses cascading down the sides of their faces. Their white pointe shoes drew her eye to the advertisement. It read Capezio: perfect fit every time.

  Marta exhaled. Once she believed in perfect, but no longer. Nothing perfect about her life. The issues with Steve weighed on her, pushing aside any thought of returning to dance or working for perfection. She knew Lily Rose saw something wasn’t right, but Marta didn’t want to talk about it. By next week all might be back to normal, but she doubted that. At least she’d attempt to pull her life back into her usual routine and delay talking with the Pill Hill ladies even longer.

  In the early afternoon Marta went downstairs to speak with Lindsay, who sat in her office looking through dance costume catalogs. Marta knocked on her open door.