Page 176 of The Moon Sister
‘I can only hope that you’re right, but I am here all day and I cannot see what he does when he is away. Would you be my eyes and ears? You are the only one I can trust.’
‘You want me to spy on José?’
‘I’m afraid I do. Now, it is time I left for some sleep in my empty bed. Goodnight, Meñique.’
As he watched María’s proud, elegant body leave the room, he shook his head in despair.
Love makes fools of all of us, he thought.
*
‘They didn’t like me!’ Lucía threw herself onto the sofa and began to sob loudly, as Meñique kicked himself for not scanning through theNew York Timesreview before Lucía had insisted he read it out to her. Yet, the ovations she and their company had received at Carnegie Hall last night had been so enthusiastic, there had not been a doubt in his mind that the review would be positive.
‘That is not true,’ Meñique insisted as he searched the article to find the positive quotes, of which there were many.
‘“A wonderfully lithe and supple body, keyed to a high nervous pitch but always in control.”
‘“Speedy, intense and brimming with physical excitement, she makes use of her dynamics entirely legitimately and with admirable artistry.”
‘“In the alegrías, which she dances superbly, every fibre of her body was sentient of line, mass and dynamics,”’ Meñique translated.
‘Yes! But they called it a “mediocre” dance evening, and said that I should not dance to theCórdoba. I hated that white lace dress! I know I looked ridiculous.’
‘Pequeña, all they had to say that was negative was that your style of dance suits a more intimate atmosphere than the Carnegie Hall, so the audience can see you, connect with your passion.’
‘So now they insult my size, because I am a tiny dot to the eyes at the top of the theatre! Lola Montes was not insulted over herbulerías. Even Papá congratulated her more times than he did me,’ she wept.
‘The audience loved you, Lucía,’ Meñique said wearily. ‘And that is all that matters.’
‘When we go on tour next week, I will insist that I open the show with thesoleares. That was Antonio’s mistake; I cannot be shaped into anything. I am just me, and I must dance what I feel.’ Lucía was upright now and pacing the floor.
‘I know, Lucía.’ He reached for her. ‘You are who you are. And the public loves you for it.’
‘You wait and see, when we go on our American tour and play to a real audience! No one will fail to see me and what I bring to their town. Detroit, Chicago, Seattle . . . I will conquer them all!’ Lucía shook herself out of his embrace and paced the suite once more. ‘I swear, I will put a curse on that newspaper! Now, I am going to see Mamá.’
The door of the suite slammed shut behind her and the whole room shuddered.
They had been in New York for four months now, and while Lucía embraced the electric energy, Meñique felt as if this frenetic city was slowly sapping him of any at all. He suffered from constant colds, the freezing weather making it a rare day when he could escape to wander through the greenery of Central Park, a tame and artificial version of his beloved Mendoza.
Picking up the newspaper again, he read over a line in the last paragraph of theNew York Timesreview: five words, but they were words that heartened and uplifted him.
‘Meñique was a definite success. . .’ he mouthed the words to himself.
Just now, he had never needed them more.
*
A month later, they set off on their tour. Meñique lost track of the days, weeks and months that they spent on trains criss-crossing the country, where the food, the people, the language were all so bland. True to her promise and inspired by the negative review, Lucía danced for her life.
Pepe, too, had blossomed, becoming far more confident in his playing. The two of them often spent late nights poring overpayonewspapers together, reading news of the war, Meñique helping the young man with his English.
After another successful performance in San Francisco, where Meñique felt as if the interminable fog there was seeping into his very bones, the company took over the majority of the booths in a late-night diner.
‘The Soviets are moving closer to Berlin,’ Meñique said, skimming the front of a newspaper that had been left on the scarred table.
Pepe sat down beside him and craned his neck to read the article.
‘Does that mean the war will soon be over?’ he asked. ‘I met a sailor at the bar tonight who is preparing to go to Okinawa. Apparently the fighting is fierce in Japan.’
