Butterfly (9 page)

"She had a fever. Dr. Franklin said she has the flu, Celine. How could you put her through all that physical exertion?"
"You don't understand," she told him. "She has to understand obstacles, overcome them, build an inner strength. That's what makes the difference between a real dancer and an amateur, a child and a woman. She did well enough today to be invited to a recital. Didn't you hear what I said? A recital!"
"She's too young, Celine," Sanford insisted.
"No, you fool. She's almost too old. In a matter of weeks, she's grown years. You don't know about anything but glass and that stupid factory of yours. Stick with that and leave our daughter to me. You took away my chance, but you won't take away hers," she cried.
And then there was silence.

Despite what Celine had said at dinner, I didn't get to meet my new grandparents until the day of Madame Malisorf's recital. Twice a year she held a recital to debut her new students and showcase her older ones. The new dancers like myself were given a variety of exercises and moves to demonstrate. The older ones each performed a scene from a famous ballet. Dimitri was dancing the lead in
Romeo and Juliet.

Because I learned and practiced in my own studio, I had never met the half dozen other beginning students. Consequently they didn't know how far I had progressed and I had no idea what they could do either. When Sanford, Celine, and I arrived at Madame Malisorf's studio, the other students and I studied each other during warm-ups as if we were gunfighters soon to be in a shoot-out. From the intense expressions on the faces of the parents, grandparents, sisters and brothers, I sensed that everyone was hoping their son or daughter or sibling would look the most impressive. I knew Celine was hoping that. All the way to the studio, she bragged about me.

"When they all find out that you not only didn't have any training before you came to live with us, but you hadn't even seen a ballet, they will be amazed. And wait until they discover how quickly Madame Malisorf put you on pointe," she added with a little laugh. "I can just imagine their faces, can't you, Sanford?"

"I still think she was rushed along a bit when it came to that, Celine," he said softly. He was the only one to notice my horrible aches and pains and asked me each night if I wanted a hot pack or a massage. Sometimes it was so bad I could barely walk the next day.

"I think
Madame Malisorf is the best judge of that, Sanford. If she didn't think Janet was doing well, she wouldn't want her in the recital," she insisted.

As if I wasn't nervous enough already, Celine's words and ultra-high expectations were making me tremble. Maybe because I was so nervous, my feet ached even more. They were so swollen, I could barely lace my shoes this morning.

When we got to Madame Malisorf's studio we saw that a small crowd of spectators had already arrived, made up mostly of families of the dancers, but also, according to Celine, consisting of some ballet lovers and other teachers, even ballet producers on the lookout for potential new stars.

The studio had a small stage and a dressing area behind it. I was already wearing my tutu and pointe shoes, so I was ready for warm-ups. I had just begun when I saw Sanford wheeling Celine toward me, and an older man with a charcoal gray mustache and an older lady, tall, with her hair a tinted bluish gray and teased, walked beside them. The woman wore far too much makeup, I thought, the rouge so dark on her cheeks and the lipstick so thick on her lips it made her look like a clown.

The gentleman was in a dark blue suit and tie. He had a spry walk and a friendly smile lit by blue eyes that made him look almost as young as Sanford. The elderly lady's face was taut, her gray eyes flint cold. Even when she drew closer, she looked like someone wearing a mask.

"Janet, I want you to meet my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Westfall," Celine said.
These were the two people who would be my grandparents, I quickly thought. Before I could speak, the gentleman said, "Hello, dear."
"Hello." My voice was barely louder than a whisper.
My new grandmother gazed down at me and from head to toe I was assessed, weighed, measured.
"She is petite. Nearly thirteen, you say?" she asked Celine.
"Yes, Mother, but she moves as gracefully as a butterfly. I wouldn't want her to be any different," Celine said proudly.
"What if she doesn't grow much more?" Mrs. Westfall asked, and as she stared down at me I noticed she was sparkling with jewelry. Around her neck she wore a dazzling diamond necklace and her fingers were covered with rings, rubies, diamonds, all in gold and platinum settings.
"Of course she'll grow," Sanford said and his indignant voice surprised me.
"I doubt it," my new grandmother muttered. "Well, where are we supposed to sit?" she said, turning and looking at the already well-filled auditorium.
"Those are our seats to the right there." Sanford nodded at some empty chairs in the first row. That appeared to please my new grandmother.
"Well, let's sit down." She headed toward the seats with a graceful gait, her head held high.
"Good luck, young lady," my new grandfather said.
"Afterward," Celine said, taking my hand, "we'll all go out for dinner and celebrate."
"Just relax and do your best," Sanford told me and gave me his special smile.
"Oh no," Celine cried when she turned in her chair. "It's my brother. Who expected he would come?"
Daniel came strutting down the aisle, a big wide grin on his face. He wore a cowboy hat, a pale yellow western shirt, jeans, and boots. Everything looked new, but because the rest of the audience was dressed as if it were really a city ballet theater, he stood out and caused an immediate wave of chatter.
"That's how you come dressed to this?" Celine said as he approached us.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing? It cost enough," he added. "Hey, break a leg," he said to me. There wasn't a seat for him so he took a place against the wall, folded his arms, and leaned back.
Soon after Daniel arrived I left my family and joined the other performers who were at the barres exercising. Dimitri stopped and came over to me.
"Relax," he said. "You're too tight. This isn't exactly the Metropolitan Ballet, you know. It's just a bunch of proud parents mooing and gooing." "Are your parents here?" I asked.
"Of course not," he said. "This isn't anything."
"It is to me," I admitted. He smirked. Then he smiled that arrogant smile and I was sorry that I'd let him know how important tonight was to me.
"Just pretend I'm out there with you and you'll be fine. In fact," he said leaning toward me, "imagine I'm naked."
My face instantly grew hot. He laughed and moved off to join the older students. I saw them all looking my way. He was whispering to them and they were smiling and laughing. I tried to ignore them, to concentrate on what I was doing, but my heart wouldn't stop thumping and I was having trouble catching my breath.
Finally, Madame Malisorf took the floor and the room grew so still you could hear someone clear his throat way in the back of the audience.
"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming to our semiannual recital. We will begin today with a demonstration of some of the basic, yet difficult ballet exercises, what we call the adage portion of our class, to be performed by my primary class students. You will note how well the students maintain position and balance.
"All of them, I am happy to say, are now dancing
sur les pointes
or on
pointe,
as we say. As some of you who have been here before know, toe dancing was developed early in the nineteenth century but did not become widely used by ballet dancers until the eighteen thirties, when the Swedish-Italian ballerina Marie Taglioni demonstrated its potential for poetic effect. Heritage, style, technique, grace, and form are what we emphasize at the Malisorf School of Ballet.
"Without further comment, then, my primary students," she announced, did a small bow, and backed away, nodding at the piano player as she did so.
We knew what we had to do as soon as the music started and all of us took position. The most difficult part of the routine as far as I was concerned was the
entrechat,
something I had just been taught. The entrechat is one of the steps of elevation. The dancer jumps straight up, beats the calves of the legs together in midair, and lands softly. Madame Malisorf wanted us to connect that with a pirouette before coming to a graceful stop, and then a bow, hopefully to applause.
I looked at my new grandparents and then at Celine, who wore a small smile on her lips. Sanford nodded at me and gave me a wider smile. Daniel looked like he was laughing at everyone. He stepped away from the wall and pretended to go on pointe and then fell back against the wall.
The music began. As I danced, I noticed every one of the primary students glancing at everyone else. I remembered how important it was to concentrate, to feel the music, to be in your own little world, and I tried to ignore them. The only face I caught a glimpse of was Dimitres. He looked as sternly critical as Madame Malisorf.
The pain in my feet was excruciating. I might as well be in some sort of torture chamber, I thought. Why had Madame Malisorf been ignoring my agony? Was this really the way a dancer developed or was Dimitri right: she was pushing me because Celine wanted it that way?
Soon after we had begun, the girl beside me began to close the gap between us. Madame Malisorf never had us rehearse together. It was just assumed we would all remain in our own space and do what we were taught to do. I should have paid more attention to those around me because the girl came down after a turn and actually grazed the skirt of my tutu with her right hand.
It put me off balance, but I didn't realize it until I finished the entrechat and began to pirouette. I leaned too far in her direction so that when she turned and I spun, we collided and both lost our balance. I fell to the polished floor in an awkward flop that resulted in my sitting down hard on my hands. She continued to lose her balance and nearly collided with another dancer before falling on her side.
The audience roared with laughter, Daniel's laugh one of the loudest. Dimitri looked sick. Celine's mouth opened and closed and then her face filled with disbelief. Sanford looked sad, but my new
grandmother kept shaking her head and smirking. My new grandfather just looked surprised.
Madame Malisorf, off to the right, gestured for us to rise quickly, and I did so. I started to perform the last steps again, but she shook her head and indicated I should simply stop and join the others in their bows.
There was loud applause. The guests appeared to have enjoyed our imperfections. Madame Malisorf took the center stage again and waited for silence.
"Well," she said, "that's why we spend most of our youth trying to do the simplest exercises and steps. Ballet is truly the dance of the gods," she added. "My primary students," she said gesturing at us and stressing the word
primary.
There was loud applause again and we all hurried off the stage. The older students approached to take our places. Dimitri glared at me.
My stomach felt as if it had filled with gravel. The girl who had collided with me came over to me immediately.
"You little idiot," she said. The others stopped to listen. "How could you be so clumsy? Why didn't you watch where you were going?"
"I did. You came too close to me," I cried. "Everyone saw it. Whose fault was it?" she asked her friends.
"The Dwarf's," one of the boys quipped and they all laughed. The girl fired another look of hate at me and they walked away. I sat on a chair, my tears zigzagging down my cheeks and dropping off my chin.
"Hey, hey," I heard someone say and glanced up to see Sanford walking through the backstage area. "There's no reason for that. You did fine."
"I did horribly," I moaned.
"No, no. It wasn't your fault."
"Everyone thinks it was," I said, wiping my tears away with the back of my hands.
"Come on," he said. "We'll watch the rest of the recital."
I took his hand and went out to the audience. It seemed like everyone was looking at me and laughing. I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on my feet as we went around and down the side to reach the chairs. There were two empty ones. My new grandparents had left.
Celine said nothing. She sucked in her breath and stared at the stage as the scene from
Romeo and Juliet
began. Dimitri was as wonderful as he was in our studio. He danced as if. he owned the stage and it was apparent, even to me, really just a beginner, that he made the others look better than they were. When their scene ended, the applause was louder, the faces of the guests full of appreciation. Madame Malisorf announced a reception in the next room where she would be serving hors d'oeuvres and wine for the adults.
"Let's just go home," Celine grumbled.
"Celine . . ." Sanford began and I knew he didn't want to make me feel any more awkward than I already did.
"Please," she said. "Let's just go home."
He got behind her chair and started to wheel her out. Some of the people stopped to say they enjoyed my dancing.
"Don't be discouraged, little one," a red-faced man said. "It's like riding a horse. Just get up and do it again," he advised. His wife pulled him away. Celine shot him a nasty, hateful look and then turned toward the doorway. We couldn't get out of there fast enough for her.
I wondered where Daniel was and spotted him talking to one of the older ballerinas. He waved at me as we left, but I was too embarrassed to wave back. It wasn't until we were all in the car that I spoke.
"I'm sorry Mother," I said. "I didn't know that girl was so close to me and she didn't notice me either."
"It was the other girl's fault;' Sanford
comforted.
Celine was so quiet, I didn't think she would speak to me again, but after a few minutes she began.
"You can't blame anything on the other dancer. You have to be aware of the other dancer. If she or he is off, you have to compensate. That's what makes you the best." Her tone left no room for argument, but still Sanford tried to defend me.
"She's just starting, Celine," Sanford reminded her. "Mistakes are something you learn from."
"Mistakes should be made in practice, not in recital," she spat. "You'll have to work harder." She was ashamed of me and didn't pretend to hide it.
"Harder? How can she work any harder than she's working, Celine? She doesn't do anything else. She hasn't had a chance to make new friends. She needs a life, too." Sanford wouldn't give up. It shocked me since he always gave in to her so easily.
"This is her life. She wants it just as much as I want it for her Don't you, Janet? Well?"
"Yes, Mother," I said quickly.
"See? I'll speak to Madame Malisorf. Maybe we can get her to give her one more lesson a week."
"When? On the weekend? Celine, you're being unreasonable:' Sanford said.
"Sanford, I'm tired of you arguing with me. And I will not have you always taking
her
side. You are my husband, Sanford; your allegiance belongs with me. Janet
will have
an extra lesson."
Sanford shook his head.
"I still think that might be too much, Celine," Sanford said, gently this time.
"Let Madame Malisorf and I decide what's too much, Sanford."
He didn't argue anymore. As we headed for home I wondered what happened to the idea of going out to dinner? What happened to my new
grandparents? I was afraid to ask, and I didn't need to since Celine told me anyway.
"My mother and father were embarrassed and went straight home," she said, her voice steely.
I didn't think it was possible to feel any smaller than I was, but I wished I could just sink into the crevices between the seats and disappear. As soon as we arrived home, I ran upstairs to my room and shut the door. A short while later, I heard a soft knock. "Come in," I called out.
Sanford entered and smiled at me. I was sitting on the bed. I had cried all the tears I had stored for sad occasions. My eyes ached.
"Now I don't want you feeling so terrible," he said kindly. "You'll have many more chances to do better."
"I'll make other mistake for sure," I said. "I'm not as good as Celine thinks I am."
"Don't underestimate yourself after just one recital, Janet. Everyone, even the greatest dancers, makes mistakes." He put his hand on my shoulder, then rubbed it along my tight, aching neck.
"She hates me now," I mumbled.
"Oh no," he said. "She's just very determined. She'll relax and realize it's not the end of the world, too. You'll see," he promised. He brushed back my hair. "You were definitely the cutest dancer out there. I'm sure most people thought you were the best one on stage," he encouraged.
"They did?"
"Sure. All eyes were on you."
"Which made it worse for me," I pointed out. He laughed.
"Now, don't you think about it anymore. Think about happy things. Isn't your real birthday next Saturday?"
"Yes, but Celine wanted to change it to the day you adopted me," I reminded him.
"That was just Celine's silly wish. Why don't you and I plan your birthday party," he said. "I know you haven't had a chance to make new friends, but maybe you'll be able to at your party. Think of some children you'd like to invite. We'll have a good time," he promised.
"Will my grandparents come?" I asked.
His smile stiffened.
"I imagine so," he said. "Now, go on. Change and we'll all have dinner?'
"Celine's really not mad at me?" I asked hopefully.
"No. Celine's had a very big disappointment in her life. It's hard for her to have any more. That's all. She'll be fine. We'll all be fine," he said.
It was meant to be a promise, but it came out more like a prayer, and most of my life, my prayers had never been answered.
Ten