When the Music Stops (28 page)

Marta and her mom looked at each other. “Maybe,” her mom said.

h

A week later on an early May evening, a gentle tapping brought Marta to her front door. Her mom stood looking across the road. ”Hi, Mom.”

“Great view. I see why you love this place. And your primroses are lovely.”

Marta laughed. “I doubt you came to look at my primroses.”

Her mom handed over a packet of paper. “No, I came to share this with you. I’ve got a loan in the works with Mr. Gleason at our bank. He doesn’t see any problem in our plan to buy the building.”

Marta hugged her mom. “This is a gigantic step. Are you certain you can handle running a studio
and
owning a building?”

“Together we can.” Her mom stepped into the house and sat down. For the next two hours they discussed all the issues associated with owning a business, if Marta stayed.

As they prepared to say good night, her mom hugged her before she headed for the door. She stopped and turned back to Marta. “When I started working at the studio, Lindsay was in her late twenties. It was a part time job. Lindsay had rented two studio spaces two days a week and had four classes. Her first few recitals were in the studio. Her students wore their practice clothes with tutus and headbands to dress themselves up. Do you remember your early years in the old building?”

Marta shook her head.

“I’ve watched the studio grow by leaps and bounds these past ten years. When she moved to this location it felt like home. I know that if you and I work together. If you stay, we’ll be fine.”

“I’ll think about it.” Marta looked down at her hands and inhaled deeply. “Each day it looks more and more like I have no reason to consider anything else.”

“Really? You’ve decided you won’t pursue dancing? Have you told Lynne or Steve? I know they care about your plans.”

Marta shrugged. “I’ve not spoken to either of them. There’s nothing to tell, yet.” She walked to the window and closed the blinds, keeping her back to her mom. “Perhaps I should tell you something else, though. I’ve been seeing Betty’s dad.”

“Sam, huh? I’d have never thought of you two together, but I guess it makes sense.”

“It does. When I’m with him and Betty, I feel comfortable, but it’s confusing me. I still think about Steve. I don’t know what that means.” Marta put on the tea kettle and took down two cups. “Stay and have a snack. I’d like your company. We can talk about the men in our lives. I could use some advice.”

h

As May slid into its second week, the last days of classes ended. Any decision on resolving the bank loan needed to be made. Focus at the studio moved on to recital rehearsals.

Sweat slipped along Marta’s body. Her snug bun escaped its thin red ribbon and hung in wisps against her damp head. She redid her hair as she prepared to tackle the rest of her list tonight then sit down with her mom, finalize the program, and call Lindsay for her input.

She exercised and tidied the upstairs, then continued downstairs to the practice room to clean up. Marta heard the door to the studio open. Expecting her mom to pop in, Marta started her normal after-hours conversation before she turned around. “Well, that was a fun bunch. They’re as ready as they’ll ever be. Do you think…?” Marta turned and gasped. It wasn’t her mom. It was Steve.

15

M
arta dropped the papers she held and stared. “Steve?”

“Hi Marta.”

Her face heated up as she bent down to collect what she'd dropped. "What are you doing here? I mean, where did you come from? I mean….”

“I’ve been in the area since yesterday.”

Marta stood and stared at his face, then let her eyes trail down his shoulders and arms before looking back to his face. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“Your mother. We’ve stayed in contact. I phone her about once a week when you're busy teaching a class or after hours. I hope that’s okay.”

Marta’s eyes opened wide. “My mom?” She inhaled and walked to straighten records and tapes and adjust her dance skirt before turning back to face him. “How long are you staying?”

“A day or so. I missed you and I wanted to get things right between us, so I thought I’d take a chance and stop in so we could talk." He paused and looked around the room. Marta wondered what he saw when he looked at a near-barren room with
barres
, mirrors, and a long, cluttered counter. Surely nothing glamorous.

He smiled. “Marta, I’m sorry for all that’s happened. I didn’t mean to be so insistent about my planning a future somewhere and expecting you to follow me. But you didn’t seem sure about what you wanted for yourself or from us, so I laid out my ideas. I admit I sounded pushy, but I needed a reaction from you. I just got way more than I expected.”

“You said us. After New Year’s, I didn’t think there was an us.”

“I’m still hopeful. Let’s go somewhere and talk, okay?”

“I have to finish up recital details tonight. My mom’s expecting me.”

“No, she isn’t. I spoke with her yesterday. You’ll work on it tomorrow.”

Marta put her hands on her hips and stared at Steve. “You talked to her
yesterday
? She didn’t say anything to me.”

“I asked her not to tell you.” He ran his hand through his hair, then fidgeted with the keys in his pocket. “I thought I should come and see you face to face. I have a lot to tell you. And I want to hear all about everything that’s happening here and about how your life is progressing.”

Marta turned away from Steve once again, this time to hide her impending tears and the ache pressing against her heart. Emotions coursed through her with such force she couldn’t breathe for several seconds.

“I’ve been just fine! That’s what you want to know isn’t it?” Her knees and her bottom lip trembled, but she straightened and lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s just that you took me by surprise.”

“I know, but I wanted to see you and I was afraid you’d refuse to talk if you knew I was coming.” Steve reached out to touch her fingertips. “Can we talk? Please?”

“Let me get things cleared up with my mom first.” Marta stuck her head out into the waiting area. Her mom was gone. When she turned back toward the studio, she saw a note attached to the door:

Gone home. Don’t get too mad. I meant well.

I haven’t mentioned anyone or anything else.

Talk with Steve, honey.

XOX

Mom

Marta wadded up the note and tossed it toward the wastebasket but missed and bent to retrieve it. She circled like a cat settling in and stared at the floor without seeing the leftover pointe shoes and the jacket tucked under one bench. She hadn’t felt this nervous since her first audition. She felt his eyes follow her as she fussed over the waiting room cushions, then the small magazine table.

When she looked up, Steve stood in the doorway. “Well?”

“Okay. Let’s talk, but not here. Give me a minute to change. We can go to the grill up the street.” Marta walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She leaned against it letting tears stream down her face. Now what? Given how they left things, could she go through another confrontation with Steve even though she thought of him most days and nights?

She changed into her street clothes, then studied her reflection in the small mirror above the sink: pale face, clenched jaw, and messy hair. Did Steve see the tired person she saw staring back at her? The one who’d taken on a recital and maybe a dance studio? Would talking with him complicate her life or help straighten out their relationship? Deep down inside she knew she wanted to know what he was thinking.

They walked side by side to the local grill leaving space between them. The waiter seated them at a small table next to the window. For a weeknight, the grill was crowded. Marta fidgeted with her hair while the waiter took their orders.

“Just a salad, ma’am?”

“Yes, that’s all, thanks,” Marta said.

Steve watched her hand the menu to the waiter. ”How’s your recovery progressing?”

Marta clenched her jaw, thinking about what he left unsaid. “Do you really care, or is this your way of hinting yet not talking about our diet pills argument? Didn’t my mom answer all your questions?”

“Ouch, Marta. That’s an unexpected reaction from you. Can we just eat and get caught up? I’ve only spoken to your mom about you, nothing about what was going on between you and me on a personal level. Yes, I have lots of questions, but I don’t think you want to hear them. Maybe I should leave now so you can go back to all your issues and your anger.”

Marta let his words hang in the air. As he started to leave the table, she grabbed his hand. “Wait. I’m sorry. It’s just that you arrived without warning, and now you expect me to sit here, smile, and carry on a conversation? Give me time to adjust.”

“Time to adjust to what, Marta?”

She held onto Steve’s hand, looking up into his eyes. “Please?”

He stared down at her, then returned to his chair, never taking his eyes from her face. She noticed his usual carefree tone had an edge. Did she see anger or hurt or impatience?

The sounds of plates, glasses, voices, and laughter filled the grill with ample background noise. Their salads arrived. Both ate in silence, watching their plates as if afraid someone might whisk them away if they didn’t keep an eye on their food.

Marta set down her fork and leaned forward. “Look, Steve. I’m glad to see you. It’s just so unexpected. I don’t mean to sound so angry. I’m just tired and a bit taken back. You’ve been checking up on me with my mother. How am I supposed to react? Why didn’t you stay in contact with me? Why my mom?”

Steve looked away, then back at Marta. “The ball was in your court, Marta. You never wrote. You never called.”

“I
did
call, Steve. The first time your father said you weren’t there. The second time no one answered.”

“Two calls? You called me twice?

“I know that wasn’t much of an effort, but I didn’t know what to say after our blowup at New Year’s, especially when you left me in charge of making the next move. Time got away from me. I got involved in working at the studio, helping two young girls prepare for their auditions, and… I was embarrassed about how we left things. I’m sorry.”

Marta looked up. Steve stared at her. She felt his silence stretch out like the final chords of music when a song ends. Did he care enough about her to forgive her? As his silence continued, she realized that his next comment mattered to her more than she’d anticipated.

A faint smile caught on Steve’s lips. “You matter to me, Marta.” He reached across the table to touch her fingers. “I wanted to find out if there was still something between us. I think there is, but listening to you talk and watching your face, I don’t think you’ve reached any decision yet.”

“You’re right. I don’t know how I feel right now. Numb is probably the best word.” She paused. “I’m flattered you came, and I still care about you, but I‘m trying to restart my life, try new things.”

Steve pulled back his hands. “Who is he?”

Marta looked around the dining room avoiding Steve’s eyes. “A school counselor. He has a young daughter who comes to the dance studio.”

“That didn’t take long. Are you two serious?”

Marta pursed her lips and shrugged. “He’s comfortable; easy to talk to. We never have the frustrating conversations I seem to have with you.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Sounds safe. Does he love you?”

She looked away before she answered. “I don’t know. We’re friends, Steve; that’s all but,….”

The waitress arrived with Steve’s main course and refilled their water glasses. Neither spoke for several moments.

Marta watched Steve focus on his meal. Seeing him triggered images of their time together: trips around Billings, bouquets of flowers, his buying her a winter coat, their conversations from the vantage point of The Rims, his coming to believe ballet was more than fluff.

Steve looked up and caught her trace of a smile. He touched Marta’s fingers again. “Have you spoken to Lynne lately? Things are changing at the ballet company.”

“No. She’s been remote…maybe because I’m so slow at writing.”

“Call her, Marta. The last time we spoke she was considering a huge change. Did she tell you the ballet school needs new instructors? I thought maybe you’d want to return to Billings and teach, be with your friends in Billings again.”

Marta pulled her hands free of Steve’s. “No. That portion of my life is closed. I decided when I left last year I’d not return except to visit, and we know how
that
went. Too many reminders that I’m not dancing yet. Are you saying you’re going to be working in Billings?”

When Steve opened his mouth to answer, Marta held up an open palm. “Stop. Don’t answer. I can’t do this right now. I’m going home. Stay and eat the rest of your dinner. Call me tomorrow if you’re still around. This is too much to think about right now.”