by Paddy Eger
“Hi, Marta. Welcome back. Come in and clear off a chair.”
Marta moved the stack of catalogs to the floor and sat, waiting for Lindsay to start the conversation.
“I am so sorry about the Christmas programs. I really thought I had the flu. Guess it’s a common mistake for first pregnancies. But now you know what it takes to manage a dance studio. When you have your own studio someday, you’ll be somewhat prepared.”
Marta looked down at her hands and swallowed hard. “Lindsay, I’m not certain that’s what I want.”
“I know.” Lindsay put her hand on Marta’s. “Selfishly, I hate the thought that you might go back to performing, but you know I support you. It’s just that you are such a thoughtful teacher. Paige and Rosie are making great strides with your help.”
“Thanks for letting me work with them. I’m enjoying myself, except when Zandora sneaks up the stairs and thinks I don’t see her.”
“I can speak to her if you’d like.”
Marta shook her head. “It’s fine. I ignore her.”
Lindsay walked over and closed her office door. “Strange that you mentioned her. I don’t want her to know I’m trying to buy this building. I’ve mentioned this to your mom, so I want us to be careful where we talk about anything related to my plans.”
“Got it.” Marta’s enthusiasm came from her sincere interest in the studio. “This is such a great location. I’m excited for you.”
“It is. Adam thinks Bremerton is a good place to settle down, and if we buy the building, we’ll have a permanent home for the dance studio. I’m tired of the owner raising our rent every six months. That’s also news I don’t want Zandora knowing since I’ve heard she wants this space for her friend’s ballroom studio. I’m certain she’d try to interfere in our plans. Has she said anything to you about pulling Rosalia from classes?”
“No. She doesn’t often speak to me, since I’m that has-been dancer.”
“You’re anything but a has-been, Marta, and you know it. Anyway, the carpenter will start adding storage shelves upstairs and finishing the small apartment area after hours. I’m telling everyone it’s being done by the owner, which might be true very soon.”
Minutes later, Marta started her practice session, which usually erased any unresolved issues. But thinking about Zandora’s attitude toward her hung like a heavy cloud over her dancing. Could she have done anything to reverse Zandora’s opinion? Probably not. She could work harder to befriend her, ignore the digs, and keep a smile ready when that was the last thing she wanted to share.
Marta returned home and brought in the mail. She read the reminder note about having a phone installed next week and carried a postcard from Lynne inside to read with her afternoon cup of tea. She’d never caught up to her during the rest of her visit to Billings, so she expected Lynne would be mad or at least irritated by Marta’s not saying good bye.
Marta,
My Dad had a heart attack so I made a quick trip home on New Year’s Eve. He’ll be fine if he takes it easy. I know your days with Steve were all lovey dovey. Call me with the latest scoop on you two, if you ever install a phone!
Lynne
Marta dropped everything and rushed to her mom’s house to call Lynne. No answer. Of course she wasn’t there. She’d be at practice at the ballet company. She wished there was a way to leave her a message, but there wasn’t, so she’d need to wait until evening and try again.
At home she put the postcard in her bedside table and returned to her living room to sit and rock. When she closed her eyes, she replayed Steve’s face as she turned down his proposal. Add to that his reaction when he found out she continued to take diet pills. Would he ever forgive her for her decisions? Did he mean he’d wait only if she gave up the pills? Could she give up the pills? Of course. Did she want to give them up was a bigger question. They provided an easy solution to her stress. Seeing Steve’s reaction, she knew she needed to stop taking them if she wanted him to continue to be in her life.
A memory from kindergarten crowded into her thinking. She’d been watching a man ride his horse past the house on Rhododendron. In five minutes she needed to leave for school, but the ties on her dress hung loose, waiting to be tied.
Her mom had said, “Hold still a minute. Let me tie these into a bow.”
When she’d pulled away to watch the man on the horse, she’d ripped one tie from the dress. By the time she’d changed clothes, her mom had to walk her to school to explain to the principal why she was late. For the next few days, Marta put up a wall of silence with her mom and wouldn’t apologize even though she knew she was wrong to disobey her. Did the bow incident show resolve or her stubbornness?
Was this incident with Steve like that? Had she erected another wall of silence? Or had he? Was she stubborn, or did she show resolve? Had she hurt his feelings and now she needed to apologize? It didn’t feel like she should; after all, she had the right to speak up, didn’t she? But what if he was her true love like they talk about in books? What if no one ever wanted her? Marta rocked and rocked, waiting for answers. None arrived.
After dinner Marta returned to her mom’s and called Lynne again. The phone rang and rang. A distracted Lynne answered.
“Hey, it’s Marta. I’m sorry to hear about your dad. How’s he feeling?”
“He’s better, thanks for asking,” Lynne said. “He needs to rest, but they say he’ll have a full recovery if he follows orders. I was afraid we’d lose him.”
“I understand how that feels,” Marta said. “I was seven when my dad died. That’s probably different, but I’m glad he’s going to be okay.”
“Me too.” Lynne cleared her throat. “So, tell me about you and Steve. Did you have a great time together in the mountains?”
Marta closed her eyes and inhaled as if those actions would change what she was about to say. “No. He offered me a ring. I refused. He asked about diet pills and got furious when he discovered I still used them sometimes. He—”
“Marta? I thought you stopped using them!”
“Not yet, but I’ve thrown my last few pills away. I’m trying to handle my stress without them.” She paused. “It’s harder than I thought.”
Lynne sighed. “You can do it. Just stop. Get more sleep, eat better food. Those pills will ruin your life if you don’t ditch them.”
“I know, but Lynne, I feel so listless without them. And now that Steve and I are taking a break, I—”
“Marta! Listen to me. Stop…taking…them. Promise me!”
“I promise. Maybe when I—”
Lynne tapped on the phone, startling Marta. “No maybe. Just stop! Look. I need to go. My aunt is having guests and I promised to help her. Call me whenever. I’m glad you’ve finally gotten a phone so I can call you. What’s your number?”
“It’s being installed soon. I’ll call you. I miss you, Lynne.”
h
January rains blanketed the days; chilly mists arose during the nights. Marta had quit the community theatre but stopped in one last time to return sewing materials.
“I’m sorry to lose you,” Hal said. “Our door is always open if you find you have time you want to fill.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I enjoyed helping out, but my dance classes at the studio are multiplying like bunnies. I’ll need to help out even more since Lindsay expects her first child this spring.”
The next day the phone company arrived and installed her phone, but now she really didn’t need it. She’d simplified her life to teaching dance classes, period. No dating, no calls from Hal or Dennis. The new void allowed sadness, excitement, and disappointment to roost inside her. The sadness increased because she’d not be hearing from Steve. Of course, she could contact him, but she didn’t and wouldn’t for now, so what did she expect? What could she say to soften their New Year’s confrontation?
Excit
ement blossomed as Lindsay gave her more young student classes with permission to create dances whenever she wanted. She listened to recordings, played tapes, and read instructor magazines, looking for the perfect dance for each class. In two or three weeks she’d begin mock auditions for Paige and Rosalia. Not a great Valentine gift for them, but practicing for auditions provided valuable lessons, one she wished she’d had. Recently Zandora had stepped back, letting Marta share her expertise from her string of auditions last year, so maybe the Zandora storm had passed.
Disappointment arose when she did her private practicing. Much as she tried, her ankle consistently failed to support her. One relevé was fine, two or ten okay, but more than ten caused strains and cramping, stopping her instantly. After the past eight months of daily exercising and practicing, she needed to face reality: professional ballet company doors were closing to her. She’d give herself two more months, then decide her next step. Would Steve step back into her life by then? She didn’t know, but she did care.
h
Two weeks later at the dance studio on another rainy January afternoon, Marta started to pack up to head home. Lindsay called her into the office. “Do you want a full time job?”
“You’re buying the building?”
“Yep. We signed the papers. I have so many plans I’d do cartwheels if I wasn’t pregnant. Finally we’ll be able to upgrade everything! I’ll ask the carpenter to start opening up the two small rooms upstairs to create a large walk-in storage room, add a visitor seating area in the west end, and rough-in a small office area for you next to the apartment, which we’ll keep intact. With the upstairs construction closing off your space, we’ll be a bit crowded for a while. Elle will manage the temporary schedule changes.”
The news seeped out, spreading through the dance classes like a wild fire. Every class bubbled with energy. Lindsay sent out information about adding more ballet classes and providing tap and baton classes next fall. Lindsay hinted that they’d consider adding modern jazz and gymnastics if experienced instructors could be found and hired.
This change, this potential influx of classes, nudged Marta to view her future in a new light. Maybe teaching could fill her need to dance. After all, she’d still dance when she demonstrated choreography to others. Was that enough to keep the music flowing through her? She looked at herself in the wall mirror as if expecting an answer to suddenly appear when a bigger, more personal question jumped out. Could she or would she give up everything to be with Steve, if he still wanted her in his life? She needed more time to consider her answer to that question.
After her last class that week, Marta dashed to the nearest drugstore on Callow to pick up personal items as her mom finished up her day’s tasks. The storefront window display stopped her. A sea of red hearts and naked cupids floated above heart-shaped boxes of chocolate. A large scrolled banner read: “Valentine’s Day is February 14. Find Everything for your Special Someone.”
Special someone. She’d not heard from Steve since their New Year’s debacle. Lynne didn’t call much; she appeared to be focused on her dad’s recovery and her career. Didn’t mention wacky boyfriend stories anymore either.
Marta bought a funny Valentine’s card for Lynne and one for the little girls, then hurried to pick up necessities. As she walked to the counter to pay, she passed the aisle with the diet pills and stopped.
12
Marta stared at the pills, debating. She’d avoided taking diet pills over the past weeks, but with the studio's final remodel and extra classes stirring up her life, she missed the jolt of energy the pills provided. Nothing worked as well as the pills to mask the confusion that threatened to disrupt her thinking.
Her hand hovered over the selection of pills before she picked up two packs of Slim-Eze Diet Tablets and walked to the counter to pay. Next month would be a better time to permanently quit.
h
Upgrading the studio included hours of shifting boxes of costumes and morning cleanup from the carpenter’s nightly work. Today before the young kinder students arrived, Marta swept construction debris into a dustpan. It wouldn’t be long now until she’d have a permanent space. Beginning next month she’d have daily classes between nine and twelve, then afternoon classes from four until six, followed by Paige and Rosalia from seven to nine. This fragmented day, typical for most dance studios, left her pockets of free hours. She’d bring her mom’s sewing machine down and use the little apartment to work on costumes as well as clothes for private clients as time allowed.
Clomp, clomp, clomp. She smiled; the young dancers were arriving. Marta hurried to greet the boys and girls as they arrived for kinder class. Each child, except Betty, raced to sit for their opening circle. Betty arrived late most days. But if Marta didn’t begin class immediately; she’d run the risk of losing control of the session. It had almost happened once when the record player quit working. She’d discovered that little kids easily take over a space if left to their own devices.
Betty’s grandmother climbed the steps, shooing the cute little girl ahead of her. “Sorry, miss. Betty couldn’t find her ballet slippers. We had to go to the high school and get them from Sam’s car. He says you’ve met and he apologizes for the shoe mix-up.”
“Tell him it happens to all of us. Try your best to get here on time.”
Betty ran to her place and sat down. Marta put on their music and sat with them to begin their stretching routine. She might mention the evening class to Mr. Faris as a better fit for Betty. Plus, it would give him the chance to watch her dance during parent visitation week.
h
February 12th was a Thursday and President Lincoln’s birthday, a holiday on the calendar, but just another day at the dance studio. Today, like every Tuesday and Thursday, the chatty kinder classes brightened her mood. She enjoyed watching them twirl around and try to hop and skip to the music. In a couple of months they’d know their right foot from their left and their cute awkwardness would vanish. She’d continue encouraging their love of music and dancing. After all, who didn’t love nursery songs with funny words to sing and movements to dance?
Today as the little dancers met their parents at the back of the room, they huddled around Lily Rose. Suddenly they rushed forward, each carrying a white rose, curtsied and handed their roses to Marta.
Olivia hopped and jumped around Marta as she handed her flower. ”These are for you.”
“It’s for Balentime’s Day,” Betty said. “Olivia’s mom said you are our balentime.”
“Oh! What a beautiful surprise.” Marta curtsied. “Thank you for the lovely roses. Each of you are my valentine too. Let’s show your parents and grandmother our favorite dance. Make your circle.”
Marta placed the roses in a vase filled with water that mysteriously appeared on the counter. When she saw the children were ready, she put on the “Muffin Man” music and led them through their hand and body motions to their final bow.
The adults clapped and clapped, then whisked their children out of their dance shoes and into their coats. Marta smiled and listened as they chattered and clomped down the stairs. She turned off the music but continued to hum the tune.
The lovely surprise had Lily Rose’s touch written all over it. She’d need to thank her and schedule the lunch with the country club ladies now that she’d reconciled herself to life without Steve. These past weeks she’d found her balance, pushing thoughts of Steve aside until she returned to her cozy Corbett Drive nest to enjoy her solitude.
Dennis called her Thursday evening, inviting her to a non-Valentine’s party on Saturday. “It’s a last minute party. Just a bunch of friends having a game night. You like games, don’t you?”
“How did you get my number?”
“Alice gave it to me. I told her it was an emergency, so she asked her dad. Well, do you want to come to the party or not?”
Why did Alice give Dennis her home number?
Marta held her breath to calm herself and finished the phone call. “I’ve made plans,” she said. “I appreciate being invited, but I’d like you to stop calling me.”
After a long pause, Dennis replied. “Got it.” He hung up before she could say anything more.
She closed her eyes and sighed as she hung up the phone. She didn’t tell him her plans were sitting and rocking in her living room with a cup of tea and a quilt tossed over her legs. Or that there was no way she wanted to be in the same city, let alone the same room, with him. Hopefully Alice would wise up and dump him very soon.
On Saturday evening after a quick dinner and hot shower, Marta slipped on her chenille robe and set the teakettle on the stove. She grabbed two chocolate chip cookies and an apple and stood waiting for the water to boil when someone knocked on her front door. A glance at the clock told her it was 7:30. She peeked through the front drapes and recognized her mom.
“Marta? Are you home?”
Marta unlocked and opened the door. “Hi. I thought you were on your way to Kalaloch for the long weekend.”
“We were, but Robert got called in for some emergency. I was on my way home from the studio and thought I’d see if you might want to go to the coast with me. We could drive down tomorrow, wander the beaches, and come back late Monday. Since classes are cancelled for the building inspector’s walk-through, there’s no pressure to hurry back. What do you say?”
“I say it’s just what we need. I haven’t had a weekend with you for a long, long time.”
h
The next morning they drove through Aberdeen and Hoquiam before turning north to Kalaloch Lodge. After they checked into their cabin, they bundled up and walked to the overlook. Wild, smoky gray mustang waves crashed against the shoreline, making conversation difficult.
“I love this beach,” Marta shouted. “Let’s head down.”
The wind blew against their bodies as they navigated the higgledy-piggledy trail cut through the wall of driftwood that lay pushed against the hill like a giant’s discarded matchsticks. They crossed the soft taupe sand, their rubber booted feet sinking out of sight.