Butterfly (6 page)

"I wish you could have been there to see her, Sanford. At times I felt like I was looking at myself in the mirror when my mother used to come around to watch me, too," she added.
I wondered when I was to meet my new grandparents, but there was no mention of their visit or our visiting them.
Celine wanted me to remain with her after dinner and talk about dance some more, but Sanford reminded her that I had to catch up on a great deal of schoolwork.
"Schoolwork," she said disdainfully. "Someday and someday soon, she'll have a tutor, just as I had"
"You mean you stopped going to school?" I asked.
"Of course. Dance was everything to me, and it will be to you, Janet. You'll see," she predicted. Just dance and have a tutor all the time, I wondered, but what about friends and parties and most of all, boyfriends? I didn't look very enthusiastic about it, I guess. Her mouth turned down in a frown.
"What's wrong?" she asked quickly.
"She's very tired, Celine," Sanford answered for me. "This has been a big day, one of the biggest in her life, I imagine"
Celine studied me a moment and then smiled. "Yes, yes, I'm sure that's it. Go do your school-- work, dear, and then get some beauty sleep."
I was excused and returned to my room. For a moment I just sat at my desk and gazed at the small mountain of reading I had to do. Getting a new home and a new family wasn't as easy as I'd always dreamed it would be.
When I stretched against the back of my chair, my lower back and the backs of ray legs screamed out in pain. I looked at myself in the mirror and groaned. I had some news for my tired little body.
"There'll be much more pain to come."

Madame Malisorf kept her promise. The next day when Sanford brought me home from school, there was an older boy waiting in the studio with her. I don't know why, but I expected the student she was bringing along for my lessons to be another girl. The sight of a boy in his tights took me by such surprise, I simply stood there gaping stupidly at him He had to be at least fifteen or sixteen, and was at least six inches taller than me with raven black hair and eyes that glittered like black onyx. He had a dark complexion, but his mouth was so red, it looked like he was wearing lipstick. It didn't look like there was an ounce of fat on his body.

He had muscular shoulders and very muscular legs. His tights fit him like a second skin, so that there wasn't much left to my imagination. Sex talk was often the topic of conversation for the older girls at the orphanage, and I couldn't help but want to listen in on their experiences. Through what they'd told me and what I overheard, I thought I knew everything I was supposed to know at my age, despite not having an older sister or mother to take me aside to discuss the birds and the bees. However, I had never been in the same room with an older boy who looked so.. . so naked. I couldn't help blushing. I saw immediately that my embarrassment annoyed him, so I shifted my eyes away.

"This is Dimitri Rocmalowitz," Madame Malisorf said. "He is one of my best students and often instructs new students on the basics. Of course, he has a way to go, but he is a very talented and precise dancer. When he tells you to do something, you should treat him with the same respect and regard you would treat me. Do you understand, Janet?"

"Yes, Madame," I replied skeptically. Dimitri looked too young to be such an amazing dancer. It would be strange taking direction from him.

"Watching someone who has mastered as much as Dimitri has will help you understand what is expected of you," she continued. "Today and from now on, I want you to begin our sessions wearing these leg warmers," she added as she handed me a bright purple pair of heavy wool leg warmers.

After I put them on we proceeded immediately to the barre and I noticed that Celine had wheeled herself into the corner of the room, where she sat with her hands folded on her lap and watched.

Dimitri went right into a warmup drill and for a moment all I could do was watch. He didn't seem shy or nervous to be dancing in front of us. It was as if he was in his own world. His legs moved with such grace and speed while he held his body in a perfectly vertical line.

"Begin," Madame Malisorf said, and I approached the barre, standing just a few feet from Dimitri. "No, don't hold the barre that tightly," she said. "See how Dimitri uses it only for balance."

I tried to relax and we began a series of exercises that included the
plies,
the
tendus,
and the
glisses,
all that she had shown me the day before. From there we moved to the
fondus
and then the
rands de jambe a terre.
First, Madame Malisorf would describe what she wanted. Then Dimitri would demonstrate, always with a proud look on his face as if he was dancing for an audience of thousands, and then I would begin, usually followed by Madame Malisorf's quick, "No, no, no. Dimitri, again. Watch him, Janet. Study the way he is holding his back and his neck."

Sometimes it took me so long to satisfy her, I was practically in tears before she let me go on to something else, always with the conditional statement, "We'll work on that." There wasn't anything I wouldn't be working on, seemingly forever and ever, I thought.

When we got to the turnout again, the pain of rotating my hips nearly made me cry out in pain. I was sure my face revealed all my new aches. Madame Malisorf seemed merciless, however. Just when I thought there would be a short break so I could catch my breath, she was on to something new with Dimitri demonstrating and then me trying to mimic his moves.

The session lasted longer than the one we had the day before. I was sweating so much, I felt the dampness in my leotards, which were now glued to my skin Finally, Madame Malisorf did give us a short break and I collapsed to the floor. Madame Malisorf went to talk to Celine and Dimitri finally looked at me for the first time since we'd been in the room.

"Why do you want to be a ballet dancer?" he asked immediately and with a sharpness in his tone that made me feel guilty.

"My mother thinks I should be," I said defensively.
"That's your reason?" he asked with a smirk. He wiped his face with his towel and then threw the soggy towel at me. "You're dripping," he said gruffly.
I found a dry spot on the towel and wiped my face and the back of my neck.
"I think I'll like it," I said cautiously. Again, he smirked.
"Ballet requires complete and utter devotion, a total commitment of mind, body, and soul. It becomes your religion. An instructor like Madame Malisorf is your high priestess, your god, her words gospel. You have to think and walk like a dancer, eat and breathe it. There is nothing else that is half as important. Then, and maybe then, you have a chance to become a real dancer."
"I don't expect to become a famous dancer," I said and wondered why this boy made me feel like I had to defend myself . . . especially when I wasn't so sure that I even wanted to be a dancer.
He looked quickly toward Madame Malisorf and Celine and then back at me.
"Don't ever let Madame Malisorf hear you say such a weak, self-defeating thing. She'll turn and walk out of the room forever," he warned.
My heart, which was pounding madly from our exercises anyway, stopped and then pounded even harder, Celine would be devastated. She would hate me, I thought.
"Madame Malisorf will tell you what you will and will not be," he continued and then he shook his head. "Another spoiled rich child whose parents think she's someone special," he commented disdainfully.
"I am not," I said, nearly in tears.
"No? How many kids your age have a studio like this in their homes and a teacher who costs thousands of dollars a week?"
"Thousands?" I gulped.
"Of course, you little idiot. Don't you know who she is?" He groaned. "This isn't going to last long. I can just feel it," he said with a knowing shake of his head.
"Yes, it will. do what I have to do and I'll do it well," I fired back at him.
I didn't want to tell him that I thought my life depended on it; that the woman who wanted to love me as a mother had her heart set on my success as a dancer and that I would devote all my strength and energy toward making her happy.
"My mother was going to be a famous dancer until she was in a terrible car accident. That's why we have this studio. It's not here just for me."
He smirked.
"You shouldn't look down on someone who is just starting out simply because you're a good ballet student," I added.
He finally smiled.
"How could I do anything but look down at you? What are you, four feet eight?"
This time tears escaped the corners of my eyes. I turned my back on him and wiped them away quickly.
"Are you really nearly thirteen?" he continued. His voice had softened and I wondered if he was sorry he'd hurt my feelings.
I began to answer him when Madame Malisorf returned and told me to take off the leg warmers. It was time to move away from the barre to repeat everything we had done, but this time without the aid of the barre. I couldn't help being tired and making mistakes. I knew I was looking very clumsy and awkward. Every time Madame Malisorf corrected me, Dimitri shook his head and smirked. Then, as if to drive home his disdain, he would do what she asked so perfectly, showing off, his spinning turns so fast he became a blur. Occasionally he would break out of the spin and do a leap that seemed to defy gravity and land without a sound. Whenever he demonstrated something for me, Madame Malisorf would cry, "That's it That's what I want. Study him. Watch him. Someday you must be as good as he is."
His face filled with arrogant pride as he puffed out his chest toward me.
I wanted to say I'd rather watch a dead fish floating on the top of our lake, but held my breath and my words and tried again. Finally, mercifully, it seemed, the session ended. Celine clapped and wheeled herself to the center of the studio.
"Bravo, bravo. What a beautiful beginning. Thank you, Madame Malisorf. Thank you. And Dimitri, you make me want to get up out of this chair, forget my crippled legs, and dance in your arms."
He bowed.
"Madame Malisorf has told me how
wonderfully you danced and what a tragedy it was for ballet when you were injured, Mrs. Delorice."
"Yes," Celine said softly, her eyes taking on that faraway, distant look. Then she smiled toward me. "But my daughter will do what I can't do anymore. Don't you agree?"
He looked at me.
"Perhaps," he said with that crooked smile on his lips. "If she learns to be dedicated, devoted, and obedient"
"She will," Celine promised and I wondered if just her command would turn me into a ballerina as easily as it had turned a cloudy, gloomy day bright and beautiful.
I tried not to look as tired and as sore as I was, but Dimitri saw through my mask and smiled cruelly at me. When I entered my room, I threw myself on my bed and let my tears burst forth freely.
I'll never be the dancer Celine dreams I'll become, I thought. I may never be the daughter she wants, but I'd rather die trying than disappoint her.

Once again at dinner all our conversation centered around the dance class and my progress. Celine talked so much she barely ate or took breaths between sentences. Sanford tried to talk about other things, but she refused to change the subject. He smiled at her and at me, his face filled with amusement. Afterward, he pulled me aside to tell me that it had been some time since Celine was as animated and cheerful.

"Thank you for making Celine so happy, Janet. You're a wonderful addition to our family. Thank you for just being who you are," he said. He smiled a genuine smile and I couldn't help but think that this smile looked so much better than the tight, grim one he usually wore around Celine.

Celine caught up to us in the hallway and noticed Sanford's beaming smile. "Why are you grinning like an idiot, Sanford? What are you two discussing?" Suddenly her eyes narrowed and turned dark and cold. "Janet, go to your room. You need your rest. You're obviously going to need all the help you can get to keep up with Dimitri."