When the Music Stops (15 page)

She walked down Callow to the Kress Five and Dime and bought a large sheet of poster paper to make a chart for the girls. Back home, she placed the poster paper on the kitchen table and drew faint lines to keep her printing straight. When she finished, the chart read:

Audition Suggestions

11. Know your strengths and make them stronger.

12. Know your weaknesses and make them your strengths.

13. Become professional the minute before you enter the room.

14. Show your best form during barre warm-ups and floor exercises.

15. Learn the choreography as quickly as possible.

16. Demonstrate strong rhythmic sense and interpretation of the music.

17. Remember: 2 practices then a graded performance.

18. Stand still in fifth position between elements of the audition.

19. Blend into the group performance but stand out thru your skills.

10. Perform your solo with elegance.

11. Thank the judges as you leave.

12. No matter what happens, be content knowing you’ve done your best.

The list looked long, but each suggestion mattered. She anticipated that Zandora Marcus would prowl around upstairs at the studio, so this would give her something to chew on. Poor Rosalia. If her mom backed off, she’d perform better. If this was the kind of pressure Bartley faced at her dance academy and from her parents, no wonder she took diet pills to boost her energy.

Marta stopped herself. Why was
she
still taking diet pills? Had they become a bad habit? Appeared so. She looked around as if someone were watching her, then she walked into her bedroom and took out her stash of pills. Seven pills left. Why did she hide them if she didn’t feel guilty taking them? She’d flush them down the toilet then confess to Lynne that she’d been right saying Marta was addicted to them.

She stood in the bathroom, holding the diet pills, considering her next move when the phone rang. She stuffed the pills back in her pocket and hurried to answer the phone.

On the other end of the call she heard the perky voice of Lily Rose.

“Marta? Are your ears burning? We’re talking about you. I’m at the dance studio with your mom. I need to talk with you about the women’s exercise class.”

“Is something wrong?” Her stomach lurched. She’d expected a call from one of the Pill Hill ladies, thinking they’d be dissatisfied about
something
, but not calling her at home.

“No, no. The gals wondered two things. Could we come five days a week, and would you make those extra days more of an adult ballet class?

“I could do that.” Marta felt relief that the ladies weren’t dissatisfied, but that they wanted more classes was a surprise. “Do you have something special in mind?”

Lily Rose laughed. “Not really. We love working with you and thought it would be fun to experience ballet choreography. Nothing too hard, mind you. Are we nuts to ask you?”

Marta shook her head as she answered. “Not at all. I’d be glad to share basic choreography. You don’t want to wear
pointe
shoes, do you?”

“Lord, no! There’s no way we’d survive the pain. We thought we’d like to push ourselves a bit, though. You’re so gentle with us, we knew you’re the only one we’d dare ask. Your mom says your schedule is free Tuesday and Thursday morning between ten-thirty and twelve. If you’ll take us on, could we start next week? Feel free to say no.”

Marta paused, running through how she’d organize the additional classes. What choreography could she use? Like a flash of light, the ideal selection presented itself. They’d be familiar with the music and…

“No, Lily Rose. I’d enjoy that. Let’s start next week at 10:30. I know the perfect choreography for us to tackle. It will be fun.”

As she hung up, Marta hoped she’d made a sensible selection. If so it would be a second monumental decision in less than ten minutes. They’d love the music. But could she reopen the old wound associated with that music?

When the phone ran so soon after Lily Rose called, Marta assumed she was calling back with another question. Why was her mom allowing parents to call their home? Couldn’t they call and talk during breaks in her studio hours?

“Marta? This is Zandora Marcus. We need to talk.”

Surprise followed her shock. “Did the dance studio give you this phone number?”

“No, but I need to know why you spoke with the school counselor about Rosalia.”

Marta closed her eyes and dug deep for a calm answer. “Mr. Faris needed information from the dance studio before he’d ask the P.E. teacher to excuse Rosalia early for the performances you’ve scheduled.”

“I’ve never heard of anything so preposterous. Have you signed off?”

Again, Marta reached for a calm voice. “No, but I’ll send in the forms as soon as the school contacts the dance studio.”

Zandora harrumphed. “Don’t bother. I want Lindsay to sign them. Coming from the studio owner is more appropriate. In the future I’ll expect you to stay out of our business.”
Click
.

Marta shook her head as she hung up the phone receiver. Nothing pleased that woman, and now that she had her home phone number, she might be an even bigger problem, even though she said she didn’t want Marta involved. She’d need to tell Lynne about Zandora’s antics. At least the upcoming adult ballet class and planning their choreography promised an opportunity to take her mind off Zandora until the next crisis arose.

Excitement and performance butterflies danced through Marta as she thought about simplifying
Rhapsody in Blue
, the choreography that ended her career. Why did that selection pop into her mind so quickly? Why not something less emotional, something with fewer haunting memories, something that wouldn’t showcase her weakened ankle? What did she have to prove at this late date?

Much as she tried to think of another ballet selection, her thoughts returned to
Rhapsody in Blue
. She’d mimic Damien Black’s presentation ideas: listen to the music, then discuss the way the instrumentation moves the melody. Those memories were happy ones she’d revisit as she shared the music with the ladies.

h

The new adult ballet class pushed Marta’s recovery plans forward. She worked every afternoon after her classes to strengthen her ankle and refine the movements she’d expect the women to make. Editing Damien’s choreography presented a challenge she enjoyed. If this dance went well, perhaps she could adapt others for the women.

She found airy chiffon remnants on her mom’s sewing shelves and purchased additional yardage to make each woman and herself ankle-length skirts. Practicing while wearing a skirt changed the way she moved; hopefully it would do the same for the women.

Today, as the first adult ballet class began, Marta felt a new bubble of excitement spread through her. Since this was a special class for the Pill Hill women, Marta wanted to fulfill their expectations. She’d noted their body builds during the exercise classes. Three of the women were lean and looked fit enough to run marathons. The fourth carried extra weight on her backside, tummy, and legs, but also appeared fit.

After leading the women through the barre warm-ups they already knew, she introduced two basic floor exercises. First she demonstrated
ports de bras
, stretches made by moving and balancing their upper body over their lower torso using elongated arm reaches. Next, she shared
echappés
, simple jumps made while changing the position of their feet while maintaining balance and erect posture.

“Watch my hands,” Marta said. “I’ll point to where you need to place your body weight. We’re repeating our basic warm-up positions and moving your body weight from foot to foot.”

When Marta stopped demonstrating and turned to watch them, she continued counting the beats by clapping. She saw the determination on the women’s faces as they stumbled, then restarted their movements. “Good focus, ladies. Two more and stop.”

As Marta removed the record from the player, she applauded them. “Great effort, ladies. Before I share our ballet dance music, let’s take a water break. Then join me on the floor.”

The women bent over, breathing hard and headed for their thermoses of water without comment.

Once they were settled, Marta explained. “Since this is your special class and it’s something you asked for, I want you to tell me your past dance experiences and what you’re looking for in this class. Lily Rose, please start.”

Lily Rose folded her hands in her lap and smiled. “As you know, I used to sing with a band. Did a little shuffling and swaying during our performances, but nothing I’d call dancing. I want to understand what it takes to be a ballet dancer. I want to dance to classical ballet music to enhance my trips to watch the ballet companies that perform in Seattle.”

In turn, the ladies mentioned their background. Trixie danced with her high school drill team. “After beauty school I bought a small salon. I married Jeff last year, sold my salon, and now I want to try something new with my friends.”

Frann shared that she was a high school jock, playing field hockey and basketball. Irene had been a cheerleader in high school and college.

Marta stood and shook out her legs. “Great. Now that I know a bit about your experiences, I think the dances I’ve planned for the two ballet days will meet your needs. Let’s get started.”

”Wait a minute,” Lily Rose said. “Tell us a little about your career. Part of the reason we want to do this is to develop our understanding of what dancers do to prepare and dance.”

All heads nodded.

“Hm-m. My career.” Marta sat down on the floor and crossed her legs, giving herself time to consider what to share. “My ballet career was fun, hard work, and very short. I danced last year from August until I fell on New Year’s Eve when I broke a small bone in my foot. I came home in May and here we are.”

“Do you miss dancing?” Irene said.

“Sometimes. Working here eases that longing. I love teaching classes and watching students try new movements.”

“Do you plan to return to dancing?” Frann asked.

“Maybe. To the Intermountain Ballet Company, no. That door is closed.” Marta wanted to stop the trip down memory lane, so she stood and walked to the record player. “Okay, let’s get back to our center work. Most ballet classes include a variety of runs, jumps, and turns.”

A collective groan escaped the ladies’ lips.

Marta giggled. “Don’t worry. We’ll start out easy. Stay in your line and spread out more than an arm’s length. We’ll work on your arms first. Pretend you’re running your arms through water. In fact, when you take a bath or go to the club for a swim, practice moving your hands through the water.” She demonstrated, letting her hand lag behind her arm movements. “Follow me. Forward, back, forward, back.”

The ladies bit their lips as they mimicked Marta’s movement.

“Nice work. Move one hand until you tire, then move the other arm. Forward, back, forward, back. When you get tired, shake them out and repeat again.”

“I never realized how heavy my arms could feel,” Lily Rose said. “I feel my body starting to lean when I move my arms.”

“Good. Your arms provide flow, and they also help your body stay balanced. Do two more with each arm. When I start the music, I want you to move around the room, letting your arms sway and your hands trail behind your arms. Walk or run to feel the motion.”

When Marta stopped the music, the women bent forward to rest.

“That was harder than it looked,” Frann said as she shook out her arms.

“My hands looked like Frankenstein’s,” Lily Rose said. “I don’t think I can walk and move my arms, let alone make them sway.”

“That’s surprisingly difficult, isn’t it?” Marta said. “Over the next weeks we’ll learn a variety of runs, then jumps, followed by turns, and soon you’ll be dancing the choreography.”

“Can you tell us what music you’ll use?” Frann said. “I’d like to buy the record so I can practice at home in my basement.”

“What are you trying to do, become the teacher’s pet?” asked Irene.

“No,” Frann said. “I’d like to listen to the music and practice.”

Marta smiled. “If each of you want a recording, I’ll ask my mom to order your first choreography, Gershwin’s
Rhapsody in Blue.
My former ballet master and mentor, Damien Black, created the choreography. Let’s sit and listen to the way the selection begins.”

After everyone sat, Marta gave one final suggestion. “Close your eyes and feel the music. Move with it; let it soak into your core.”

She dropped the needle onto the first groove and rejoined the women on the floor. As the clarinet slide began, she drifted with the music, letting it seep into her body like a deep ache followed by a pleasant release.

When the music ended Marta opened her eyes and saw the four women watching her.

“You really love that music, don’t you?” Lily Rose said.

“I do,” Marta said. “But I could find another selection if you prefer.”