by Paddy Eger
“Thanks, but nothing will help me dance as the witchy Carabosse.”
During the second intermission, the stagehands installed the elaborate castle sets for scenes from Sleeping Beauty. Every corps member had breathed a sigh of relief when Madame told Marta she’d been selected as Carabosse, the forgotten fairy. The quick change for the role had the possibility of being a backstage nightmare.
But Marta accepted the challenge as a way to prove herself to Madame. The choreography involved more walking around acting menacing than it did dancing. Even though the black costume and make-up buried her appearance, it became a solo, of sorts. Performing the quick change demanded timing and assistance. Each rehearsal went without a problem. Tonight tested her nerves and skills as she changed and then stepped before a live audience.
She began the performance on stage as a guest, waltzing at the palace celebration. In her three-minute costume change, she stripped off her costume, slipped into a tattered black dress and black wig, and slapped gray make-up on her face. On cue, she entered the stage as Carabosse to frighten the King and Queen and put a curse of baby Princess Aurora. Her feet slipped as she stepped around the fairies, but she regained her balance and continued her pantomime.
Acting menacing without being too scary demanded a delicate balance. If she scared the young children in the audience, they’d not want to return. Marta danced in circles, tempting the princess to reach for the spindle. She swept close, then moved away, using exaggerated pantomime with soft hands rather than angry ones. Princess Aurora followed; her outstretched hands grabbed the spindle. Then, as she fell into a deep sleep, Carabosse drifted off the stage.
In the wings, Marta tore off her ugly costume, scrubbed away her gray make-up with a damp towel, and scrambled into a fairy waltz gown. A dresser assisted her with the hooks while she pulled on a short wig to hide her messy hair and complete her transformation into a dainty fairy.
The Sleeping Beauty sampler ended as the princess awakened to the prince’s kiss. The royal court invited the fairies to join the festivities as the ballet swept to a close.
The applause from the audience rang in Marta’s ears. She stood tall alongside the other corps members, then joined them in a deep bow. Being part of the company sent a strength through her body, replacing her tiredness with a tingling energy. Another bow and another until the corps exited to the wings, allowing the principals to step forward to receive their bouquets and further applause.
After the final curtain, the soloists attended a special benefactors’ event hosted by the ballet advisory board. Corps dancers were dismissed until rehearsals tomorrow. Marta removed her make-up with cold cream, slathering her face and neck with the cold, slippery goo. Lynne and Bartley did the same.
Lynne threw a tissue at Marta. “Well, Carabosse, did you like that quick change? Feel funny about getting naked backstage?”
Marta reached for a fresh tissue. “I was too busy changing to think about it.”
“Your neck is gray mud,” Lynne said. “Bet that smudged mess looked good with the fairy gown.”
Marta startled. “Didn’t the wig cover it?”
“Not really, but you did great, Marta,” Bartley said as she passed. “Madame will notice.”
“Right. She’ll see the slip at the beginning and the mud, as if I could have avoided them.” Marta brushed out dozens of knots from her tangled hair. Her mom’s face smiled from the photo in the edge of the mirror. She imagined her mother standing beside her, watching her as she dressed to meet Steve. But that hadn’t happened. Her mom was a thousand miles away.
Most patrons had headed home by the time Marta emerged. When she left the building she saw Steve pacing the front walkway of the theater. He smiled when he saw her. “Hi, Marta.”
“Hi, yourself. Well, newspaper man, what did you think?”
“It was great; you were great,” he said as he took her hands in his. “I liked all of it. You looked strong and beautiful.”
“Really? Did you know I danced the ugly fairy in Sleeping Beauty?”
“Ah, I guess I missed that.”
Marta shook her head. “Where did you sit?”
Steve stared at her. “In the third row. Didn’t you see me?”
“No. The footlights blur the audience.”
“Huh. Come on. Let’s talk over a snack.” As they walked to the small ice cream parlor, he locked fingers with her. She felt the tingle of dancing continue, now from their comfortable hand clasp
Once they were seated and had ordered, Marta leaned forward on her elbows and grinned. “So tell me your thoughts about your first ballet.”
“Promise you won’t get mad or anything.”
Marta drew back. “You didn’t come?”
He laughed. “Oh, I came, but I got locked out for the second act.”
Marta crossed her arms and squinted. “How on earth did you manage that?”
“Well, you know how warm it gets in the theater. I went outside to cool down after the first act. When I walked back inside, the auditorium doors were closed. The usher refused to let me back in.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. I begged and told him I represented the paper, but he didn’t care. He kept saying, ‘I’m sorry sir; there is no late seating.’ So I went back outside and waited for the next intermission. When the ranchers and townspeople stepped outside for a smoke, I returned to my seat. So, you see, I did see the parts you were in. I just missed the solos.”
Marta laughed so hard tears formed in her eyes. “That sounds crazy.”
“It was. That usher meant business. Now, could you stop laughing, please? I thought you’d see my empty seat and get mad or something. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Every time I saw you dance, you looked amazing. I watched your face when you played a peasant. You looked like you belonged in that village. And when you danced in Sleeping Beauty, you looked beautiful. I didn’t miss a second of your dancing.”
“Except when I mimed the angry fairy.”
“Right. But, I watched her dance. She, you, did a great job menacing the princess. And I freely admit that I enjoyed being at the ballet.”
Marta toyed with the crumbs on her empty plate. “Do you still think ballet is fluff?”
“Yes, but wait. It’s beautiful fluff. The kind of fluff I want to see again and again.”
“But you still think it’s fluff?”
“Just the music, not the dancing. All of you are stronger than most athletes I know. How do the men lift dancers and spin so easily? And how do you stand on those pointe shoes and still smile?”
“Practice, practice, practice.”
“That’s why you are always so tired, isn’t it?”
Marta nodded.
Steve pulled her up. “Do you have enough energy for a drive to the lake?”
“That sounds perfect.”
At Lake Josephine they parked near the shore. Steve slid his arm across the back of Marta’s seat, grazing her ponytail. He alternately stared at Marta and looked out the front window
“You’re different tonight,” she said. ”What’s going on in your head?”
“Tonight was a wonderful surprise for me. I never thought about all the work you do to get ready to perform. Is it hard to keep all those dances straight?”
“No, each piece of music feels different. Are you writing a piece for the paper?”
“Naw. Just curious now that I understand ballet.”
“After one evening?” Marta laughed and shook her head. “Steve, you are amazing.”
“What’s your next ballet?”
“The Nutcracker. I’m certain you’ll know the music.”
“Maybe, but you might be wrong about that.” He kissed her forehead. “In the meantime, may I continue driving you to practices?�
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“If you want. We’ll add weekend rehearsals with the children who dance in the Christmas party scene. I don’t expect you’d be around for them; you’re off the hook, Mr. Fluff.”
“I’ll drive you as early or as late as you like on days I can get away. Can I get Nutcracker tickets now?” he said.
Marta brushed her fingers over his clean-shaven jaw, then patted his cheek. “No. Ask your friend Miss Fluff in November. She’s a nice person even if she is a dan-cer.”
Steve captured Marta’s hand. “She’s a tease, that’s for sure.”
“Can I have my hand back, please?”
“May I kiss you first?” he said as he traced one hand down her cheek and inched closer.
She nodded.
He kissed her cheek, then her lips before he pulled back and turned on the dome light. He handed her a small, flat package wrapped in rose-colored paper. “I found this in the used book store. I thought you’d like it. The cover says it’s ballet without tears. I want you to always be happy and, well, uh, I … Open it.”
She undid the wrapping and lifted out a small tattered book entitled, The Ballet Lover’s Pocket Book. The dust cover flaked as she opened the book. “Thanks. This is wonderful, Steve.” Marta turned the pages and looked at each small line drawing. When she looked back at Steve, his grin made her smile. “Did you read it?”
“I thumbed through it,” he said. “The author knew a lot about ballet and costumes and scenery. She plays the guitar, so she can’t be all bad. Read the inscription I added.”
Marta read the words aloud. “You’ll always have me as your audience of one.” She closed the book and reached up with both hands, cupping Steve’s face. “You know, for a cowboy, you’re sweet.”
“I like being called a cowboy better than Mr. Fluff.”
They sat in Steve’s car, holding hands at the curb by the boarding house until Marta yawned and tapped the car clock. “I need to go. I plan to sleep in ‘til noon.”
“May I see you or call you tomorrow?”
“Yes, but not a second before noon, promise?”
“I promise. Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”
They lingered in a hug. After a quick series of kisses, Marta unlocked the front door and said good night. From the common room window she watched Steve drive away. She tucked tonight away as a perfect remembrance. Her next encounter with Madame promised to be memorable, but she doubted it would be anything but continuous criticism.
11
Dread day: the first rehearsal after the opening performance of the Classic Sampler. Marta took special care to appear professional as she entered the large practice room. The usual banter and chatter among the corps was missing. Instead, everyone stood in silence; the floor held a sudden interest.
Madame thumped into the room and positioned herself next to the piano. “I imagine you read the reviews. The paper was too generous. Obviously they overlooked the numerous blunders, or the reviewer, Susan Zane, needs new glasses.”
Marta squirmed and looked around. No one met her glances.
“I am surprised at the lack of corps pride you displayed. After all our practices and rehearsals, you still acted like you were in pain. Your entries were ragged, your gracefulness rivaled a bunch of circus clowns.”
Madame swiveled to face Marta. “And you. What were you thinking? You almost fell onto the stage as Carabosse. I’ve seen better mime by a five year old.”
The shock of Madame’s attack weakened Marta’s knees. She lowered her eyes and curtsied. “I‘ll work harder, Madame.”
Madame thumped to stand inches from Marta. “I don’t want ‘harder.’ I want smarter with more believability.”
“Yes, Madame. Of course.” Marta felt tears gather in her eyes, but there was no way she’d let Madame see her cry. Not ever.
“Now, let’s start at the top. We have eleven performances ahead of us, and I won’t let you corps dancers make a fool of this ballet company.”
Hour after hour, practice after practice, Marta worked at a feverish level to impress Madame. Every free hour at the boarding house, she rehearsed Carabosse until she exhausted her reserves, dropping into bed without eating or showering. Both took too much energy.
“Marta,” Lynne said. “What’s happening to you this week? You look like Carabosse before you add any make-up.”
“I’m okay. I just need to find a way to reach deeper and dance her as a stronger character.”
“You’re doing fine. I worry you’re going to collapse on stage.”
Marta smiled. “It’s almost over. I can make it.” Though secretly she had the same fear.
Each performance Madame stood in the wings and stared at her as she exited the stage. Each performance the stares grew shorter. Had Madame given up on her, or had she reached a level of performance Madame could accept?
When the Classic Sampler performances ended in late October, Marta felt relieved. Now she could rejoin the boarding house meals and go back to spending her evenings more leisurely. She could also spend time with Steve. They could use the slower schedule to write their first shared article. The arts editor had suggested a list of the ten most famous ballets with short descriptions as their starting point.
One Saturday evening, Marta cleaned the basement practice space and set two chairs at the card table. She spent several minutes fussing with her hair before Steve arrived.
“This is cozy,” Steve said as he entered the basement room.
“It works. I thought if we worked here, we’d get away from the boarders. James and Shorty love to play cards in the evening.”
Steve nodded as he set his briefcase and his portable Smith Corona typewriter on the table. “Do you type?”
Marta shrugged. “A little.”
“How about you talk and I’ll type.”
Over the next two hours, Marta shared background ballet information and talked about her favorite ballets. Steve asked questions and recorded her answers for additional articles. Then, while he wrote, she used the time to exercise without music. When she looked toward Steve, he had stopped working to watch her. She smiled.
“Is that what you do every day?” he said.
“Pretty much. We warm all our muscles slowly so we don’t tear anything. Usually it’s done in leotards, not a skirt. Why are you asking?”
“Just curious.” He stood and walked toward her and handed her the article he’d typed. “Read this rough copy aloud, please. That way I can hear if it flows.”
Flows. They both used the same word for different careers. Marta cleared her throat and read:
The world of ballet is centuries old. Many of the world’s favorite ballets were choreographed during the sixty years between 1832 and 1891. Newer ballets, created between 1910 and the 1930s have also become favorites at our local Intermountain Ballet Company.
Madame Cosper and one of her new dancers, Marta Selbryth, shared their favorites. Madame Cosper’s top ballets include (Ask Madame for her list and comments and get her final approval for the article.)
Marta looked up. “You want me to talk to her about this?”
“No, I’ll have Susan share this with Madame. I need your top ballets so Madame will know what you said. Then we’ll see what happens. Keep reading.”
Miss Selbryth’s list includes: The Nutcracker, Coppélia, Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, La Sylphides, Firebird, Four Seasons, and Giselle. She said, “I’ve enjoyed their musical scores since I was a child. The composers create a wonderful flow of music, allowing us to present a variety of dances. Each tells a story.” (add Marta’s descriptions as space allows)
Intermountain Ballet Company presented excerpts from Coppélia and Sleeping Beauty in their fall season opening. Next they will present full ballets for The Nutcracker, Giselle, and Serenade. T
he season ends with a Tribute to America and new choreography from local ballet master, Damien Black.
Contact Fox Theater box office for tickets to future performances.
“That made what I said sound really good,” Marta said as she handed the copy to Steve.
“Doin’ my job.” Steve put the article in his briefcase.” If there’s space, we can add the overview of each ballet that we’ve discussed. For now, we’re done. How about we get something to eat?”
“Let me fix something here. Then we can sit on the porch swing and—”
“Wait. I have my own ideas about what we can do sitting in the swing.”
Choreography for the Nutcracker had began even before the Classic Sampler performances ended, followed by auditions for parts. On tour and at home, guest dancers would perform Herr Drosselmeier and the Nutcracker-turned-Prince. The walk around parts of party scene members, soldiers, and children would be selected from the local dance schools and interested adults. Patrice Royal, as principal dancer, earned the choice of roles: the Snow Queen or the Sugar Plum Fairy. Corps dancers performed the Waltz of the Flowers and vied for short solos.
The demi-soloists would perform as snowflakes. That left company-wide auditions for Clara, the Chinese, Russian, Arabian, Spanish, and Flute dances, as well as Mother Ginger. True, they were small solos and required quick changes, but the dances were coveted. All except Mother Ginger, who danced on short stilts.
Over the past sixty years, choreographers had modified and restaged the various roles to meet their needs. Damien favored recreating the 1940s version as close as possible. All the dancers had to readjust their thinking and dancing; every rehearsal became crucial. Marta, Lynne, and Bartley practiced each evening in Marta’s basement studio.
