Page 81 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘It means coward, with no bones in the back.’
‘Well, I hope you are not referring to your lovely new husband.’
A cubicle door opens, and I quickly go in and shut the door. Inside my head I say,Ja, Bonnie, I was speaking of my new husband. He is perhaps not so lovely. He is weak man. I see it now. He is too weak to tell Maya’s parents we are now married. He is like frightened little boy. I am full of disappointment with Neil. Why did he ask me to marry him if he will not say this to others? I do not understand. And I do not like being here when the children need me. All I want to do is go home. I try to say prayer, but the words they do not come so I flush the toilet and go to wash up my hands.
‘Ingrida, are you OK?’ Asha joins me at the washing area.
I nod to Asha and blink back a tear.
‘Trouble at home?’ She looks at the phone I have put down next to the sink.
I merely nod, then I realise her breath smells a little of vomit. ‘Asha, are you sick?’
‘I think all the nervous tension of the competition has got to me. That cake has come straight back. Although Ifeel better now.’ She lightly splashes water on her face and dabs it dry with a paper towel.
‘I am sorry to hear this. You are not pregnant, are you?’
Asha’s face looks at me in a very startled way. She looks quickly to her stomach area and then she holds onto the sink as if it will stop her from slipping down to the floor.
‘Oh, my goodness.’ Asha’s voice goes very quiet, and her breaths come very quickly. I lean into her so I can hear her.
‘Ingrida, no… I cannot be pregnant. I mean, I do not want children. I mean, not yet…’ She puts a hand to her stomach.
‘Do not worry, being sick is not always sign of pregnant. The main one is missing your…menstrualais… what is English word?’
‘The same.’ Asha starts to pace the floor. ‘I am not sure if I have missed. I am not very regular. It has been a month, maybe more…’ She suddenly puts her hands to her breasts. ‘They are swollen…’ And stares at me wildly.
‘This is also sign. But only true way to know is to have an actual pregnant test,ja?We can buy one at akimikis– a chemist.’
‘Yes, you are right. After the dance… Ingrida?’
‘Ja?’
‘Will you come with me? I have no idea how to ask for this in French.’
‘Of course.’
‘Thanks. Oh, and Ingrida, please do not say anythingto the others.’
‘Of course,’ I nod. I do not know why Asha would think I would tell others, but I am not paying so much attention to her as I am thinking too much of Neil. I also remember Kazimieras, he is in Manchester.
I rub my head and find the words to say to God,please rub my worries away.
I cannot help but think if Asha is going to have a baby, this should not be a big worry for her in whole scheme of things. She is about to be married to her true love, Jay. The wedding is soon, so she will be a married lady when her baby is born. She is a very fortunate person… And – God, he remind me – I am also fortunate to have three beautiful stepchildren.
Back in the dressing room, we change into our saris. They are different pale shades of blue and green. Mine is light azure. It remind me of the colour of the sea. We also put on our ballet shoes. Fay told us she could not go barefoot – she did not say for what reason – but we all agreed we would wear ballet shoes instead. They remind me of when I was a little girl in my ballet class. I think Grace and Lizzy will like ballet… when they are older. As soon as I think of Neil’s children my face creases up, but this is not with laughing, it is with worry. I miss them and I know they miss me.
Asha quietly adjusts the beautiful sari material for each of us until it is looking correct.
Cath and Bonnie ask her if she is OK – I see them looking at each other with a question in their eyes. Asha says she is anxious for the dance to go well as she knowsthis will be performed at her wedding and today is the dress rehearsal for the big day. But I think this is not her main worry.
I try to remember the opening steps for our Bollywood routine, but my mind is blank.
Everyone is quiet in the dressing room.
I do not feel like making conversation. I try to concentrate, but I cannot make the first part of the dance come into my head; I cannot even think how the music goes.
I look around to ask Monica to remind me how the dance begins, but she is brushing her hair and does not make eye contact with me or anyone.
