When the Music Stops (10 page)

“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 Holland 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 and 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.

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.