Page 35 of On Dancer
Despite many reassurances, though, she still seemed frazzled as the curtain lifted on the evening performance. My own anticipation rose as the opening overture sounded. Ordinarily, I’d turn inward as I awaited my second act entrance. I preferred to keep loose away from others, listening to my headphones, running through my variations in my head, letting go of all distractions, including those from other dancers and production people.
Tonight, however, Victoria required my attention. I stamped down any niggling irritation at the interruption of my routine, trying instead to channel Rudy’s encouraging ways. Our pas de deux would go far smoother if Victoria would settle her nerves. She did well to welcome Clara to the Land of the Sweets to start Act Two, but when she returned to wait backstage with me, sheflitted about from foot to foot like a strong draft might knock her over.
“What if I’m too tired?” Victoria fretted in a whisper. She’d danced the school show yesterday, danced a different role in the matinee today, and rehearsed with me. Indeed, weary circles bracketed her brown eyes. Onstage, the Waltz of the Flowers started, the familiar polka ofoom pah pah, oom pah pah, du nu-nu nuuuu, nu-nufiltering back to where we stood.
“Then you lean into the exhaustion.” I put my decades’ worth of experience into the advice. “You’ll dance your best when you’re tired. You’re really warmed up. Your muscles are loose. Your body knows what to do.”
“Yeah.” Victoria’s agreement didn’t sound at all certain. “The sold-out theater is freaking me out a little. I can feel the energy all packed in.”
When we performed on stage, the bright lights made it so we didn’t see the audience. Like Victoria, I might sense an energy, but beyond the lights lay a wall of darkness. New performers often found the darkness disconcerting while seasoned ones knew how to capitalize on it. For myself, there was nothing quite like the rush of projecting my every movement into the darkness beyond the stage. I wiggled my jaw from side to side, searching for the right words.
“Use the energy. Push forward into the darkness. Approach each step like it’s the only step the audience will see all night.” I summoned the same advice Tavio had given me years prior, likely the same advice he himself had received as a student. “Every single moment is the only moment that matters. Stay in that moment. And point your toes.”
“One moment at a time. I can do that.” Victoria set her shoulders as Waltz of the Flowers approached its conclusion. Wardrobe helpers rushed forward to take our warm-ups andgive last-minute attention to our costumes, which included a whispered “Merde” from Kitty.
“I believe in you,” Kitty added to Victoria. And apparently, that was what she had needed to hear all along because Victoria rose up, going from resolute to ethereal, embodying the role in a way she hadn’t before. As we entered for our pas de deux, she was regal as any large ballet company principal dancer. I sensed a shift in the energy, the audience completely captivated.
We began in the adagio section where we danced together, and I built upon Victoria’s presence, my own movements rising to the occasion, no room at all for the doubts of the past few months. The indescribable rush of knowing I was dancing at my best carried me through my solo. Pounding adrenaline made it hard to catch my breath during Victoria’s solo, but I needed every molecule of oxygen for the coda where we danced together again. Faster now, each lift higher, each pirouette bigger and faster, momentum building for the finale.
And then the audience erupted into applause, piercing that wall of darkness, confirming we had, in fact, triumphed. As we prepared for curtain calls, I glanced at Victoria, a curious pride filling my chest. First Rudy, now her. I wasn’t used to carrying so much concern for others’ successes, but my eyes burned and my throat was tight. Victoria’s magnificent performance was a testament not only to her talent but to her sheer force of will to beat those nerves into submission.
She shone so brightly now that few would guess the toll the day had taken on her.
“I want to bottle this moment up,” she said breathlessly as we walked back out for our bows.
“I know, but trust me, you’ll have plenty of other curtain calls.” My tone was both fond and confident. We’d all witnessed the birth of a star, and she deserved every round of applause andcheer, to the point that Tavio sent her back out a second time when the audience stayed loud.
As always, the second the curtain fell for good and the production wrapped for the evening, I flopped onto my dressing room chair, all the adrenaline replaced by bone-deep exhaustion, the sort where even peeling off my costume required more energy than I had. I took my time getting changed, and many of the performers and crew had already departed when Rudy poked his head in the dressing room door.
“Whoa. You look like one of those giant candy set pieces slammed into you.”
“I’m so tired.” I could be pitiful with him in a way I couldn’t with many. “Everything hurts. And somehow I have to do it all again tomorrow for the final matinee.”
“I know.” Rudy came into the room to lay a hand on my shoulder, a surprisingly firm grip. “I came to see if you needed ice or if you were hungry? How can I help?”
He already was, simply by being here, and his gentle shoulder massage was going to be my undoing.
“No ice, but I’m starving. However, if I have to make even one more decision, I might expire from the effort.”
“I understand.” His tone was comforting beyond measure. “Let me take care of you?”
“Yes,” I said simply, possibly the most foolhardy syllable I’d ever uttered. More time alone, especially with me in this unguarded state, was dangerous, yet I was powerless to do anything other than nod weakly. “Thank you.”
Eighteen
Effacé:a position where the legs appear open to the perspective of the audience.
Rudy
After some muttering about the three flights of stairs to my apartment, Alexander consented to letting me drive him home in the most Alexander way possible, with a hand wave and weary “if you must.” He did, however, insist I drive the car he’d been borrowing from his parents, so we’d draw less attention at their house. Adding to the secrecy of our mission to make it to the Dasher’s pool house undetected, he directed me to pull around to the rear drive and park near the back with the pool and small house rather than approach from the front.
“I feel very much sixteen again and sneaking someone in, but I’m in no way up to dealing with my family.” Alexander slowly untangled himself from the seatbelt, moving as if he’d aged thirty years over the course of the day.
“I get it. I’d rather not face either of our mothers, to be honest.” My rationale was more selfish in that I wanted to be the one taking care of Alexander. If his mother spotted us, she’d likely insist on taking over, and my plans to revisit that backstage kiss would disappear in a cloud of expensive perfume and motherly concern. My own mother had been easy enough to dodge leaving the theater, but she would’ve also had questions I’d rather not answer.
“You’re quite possibly the only one I can tolerate tonight.” Alexander offered me something approaching a smile as I led him into the pool house.
The Dashers always referred to the building in an offhand manner as one might a garden shed or detached garage, but the small rectangular structure was actually more of a one-bedroom cottage that happened to face the pool and gardens. Elaine had originally renovated the space for her aging mother-in-law, then turned it into a guest house after her passing.
