by Cara Malone
CHAPTER 8
“Your turn-out is still not up to par, Ms. Bledsoe.”
Melody thought she’d be hearing her instructor’s sharp voice in her head for the rest of her life. She heard it when she went to bed each night, running through every critique he’d given her that day. She heard it like a refrain during auditions when it should have been just her, the stage, and the music. And she heard it in the endless hours she spent alone in the practice studio each night after everyone else had gone back to the dorms.
“Straighten that leg!”
“Point that toe, Bledsoe.”
“You’re getting sloppy, Melody. If you can’t do it right then just go home.”
Go home never meant go back to the dorms and rest up a bit. Melody knew that go home meant pack your bags and make room for a capable dancer to take your place. It was her least favorite of the phrases that ran through her head at all times, the one that filled her most with dread and drove her back to the practice studio despite hunger, fatigue, injury, or illness.
None of that mattered because she could eat when she was dead. She could sleep when she was dead. She could let her body mend itself when she was dead. She only had one shot at Pavlova, and everything else could wait.
Another one of her instructor’s favorite quips, uttered for the first time during Melody’s very first class and repeated many, many times since then, was, “You aren’t in Lisbon anymore, sweetheart. You’re at one of the most prestigious performing arts schools in the country, not some small-town studio. You better start dancing like it.”
Pavlova had been a culture shock – that was for sure. Melody was used to getting up early and dancing before school, then coming home and eating a light, protein-rich snack before heading back over to the studio for a couple hours of private lessons. She’d maintained that routine for two years before trying out in New York, and when it paid off she mistakenly believed that she’d done everything she needed to succeed there. She was one of only twenty-four students chosen to enroll that year, and the shock of finding herself in the bottom of every class was difficult to take.
The rest of the Pavlova dancers came from performing arts high schools. They danced their way out of the womb and a lot of them had already performed nationally. And then there was Melody, who to them seemed like a country hick, or maybe just a diversity hire on account of her financial hardships.
She kept trying – nobody put in as much studio time as she did – and she just kept falling behind with her poor turn-out and sickled feet and small-town, small-time abilities. By the end of her second month, Melody started lying whenever her parents called wanting to know how she was doing and what parts she’d gotten.
“I don’t know, the list isn’t out yet,” she always said, and usually she followed it up with, “Class is about to start. I’ll call you later,” whether it was true or not.
CHAPTER 9
Jessie found the recital to be organized chaos. For all of Mary Beth’s nervous energy and frantic moments, she had a way of pulling everything together in the end. Ellie was having the time of her life, and that was all that mattered to Jessie.
They spent the first half-hour in the audience, watching the older dancers perform their routines. Jessie watched Ellie out of the corner of her eye at first, and then when she saw how completely absorbed her daughter was, she watched her outright. Ellie was wearing her leotard and ballet slippers despite the fact that she couldn’t dance with the other beginning ballerinas – she wanted to at least look like her classmates, even if her outfit was pink and theirs was a shimmering purple.
“Do you want to see if we can find your class?” Jessie whispered after a while, when the parade of kids she didn’t know on stage began to blend together. She looked at the program someone handed her as they walked in and told Ellie, “It looks like their number is the one after next. You could wish them luck before they go on stage.”
“Yeah,” Ellie nodded eagerly. “Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Jessie said. “Just remember we have to be quiet and respectful of the other dancers. Go that way to the aisle and don’t make too much noise.”
She nodded down the row of chairs, where fortunately no one had chosen to sit beside them. The auditorium was large and it looked like mostly parents and family members in the audience – there were pockets of empty seats here and there, and Jessie was relieved not to have to watch her five-year-old climb over anyone’s knees or under their feet to get out.
Jessie followed Ellie up the darkened aisle and out the back door of the auditorium, self-conscious of the light that flooded in from the atrium when they opened the door. Then because she didn’t actually know where to find the beginner ballet class, she took Ellie’s hand and they wandered through the halls for a little while.
“Look, tap dancers!” Ellie screeched, her voice reverberating down the hall.
“Shh,” Jessie implored while Ellie bounced up and down and pointed at a group of girls coming up the hall, led by Mary Beth who looked frazzled to the highest degree.
“Are you on your way to the stage?” Ellie asked them. Jessie grinned – ever the extrovert, Ellie was not afraid to ask anyone anything. She sure didn’t get that trait from Jessie, and as long as she remembered the lessons Jessie and Steve had taught her about avoiding certain questions (“Can I see the puppy in your van?” and “What kind of candy you got in there?” among others) she was happy to encourage her fearless daughter.
“Yep,” one of the tap dancers replied.
Mary Beth saw the excitement in Ellie’s eyes and paused for a split second to ask, “Do you want to come watch?”
“BACKSTAGE?”
Jessie winced as Ellie did her damnedest to blow out everyone’s eardrums, and then she squeezed Ellie’s hand in warning. “What did I tell you about using your inside voice?”
“Sorry, mommy,” Ellie answered. Then she turned right back to Mary Beth. “Can I?”
“Of course, kiddo,” Mary Beth answered with a warm smile. “Do you know the rules of the stage?”
“No talking,” Ellie said quickly.
“And stay far back from the curtains so the audience doesn’t see you,” Mary Beth added. “Well, come on then. The show must go on!”
They followed Mary Beth and the tap group, and Ellie was on cloud nine then they got backstage. Her eyes darted from the pulleys overhead, to the stage, to the tap group getting ready in the wings, to the spotlights hanging from the ceiling over the audience, never resting on any one thing for long because there was too much to take in. Jessie watched her with amusement, and when the tap group shuffled on stage to an old pop song, Ellie stood in the wings, mouth open and totally in awe of the girls.
Jessie hung back, leaning against the wall by the door and taking a moment to breathe. She could only imagine the level of mania Ellie would achieve next year when she actually got to wear a tutu and dance on the big stage with the rest of her class. Jessie would probably have to sedate her afterward or she’d never sleep again after all that excitement.
“Mommy,” Ellie said after a minute or two, rushing over to Jessie.
“Quiet.”
“Mommy,” Ellie repeated at a barely audible whisper. She pointed across the stage to the opposite wing, where Jessie could just make out flashes of purple tulle. “My friends.”
“Oh no,” Jessie said. “They’re on the other side. I don’t know how to get to that part of the stage.”
“I wanted to wish them luck,” Ellie insisted, and she was just bordering on pouty when Jessie realized that there was about three feet of walking room behind the curtain that hung at the back of the stage. Ellie saw her examining it and was immediately onboard. “Can we go?”
“Oh boy,” Jessie said, her heart fluttering. “I hope no one can see us walking back there.”
“They can’t,” Ellie said with as much certainty as she could muster. “Let’s go!”
Jessie agreed on the condition that they would both
walk with their backs to the wall, keeping as much room as possible between themselves and the curtain so as not to create a shadow. They went quickly, Jessie taking Ellie’s hand to keep her from getting too excited and accidentally smacking the curtain, and when they got to the other side it was a miracle that she didn’t shriek in her excitement at seeing the other girls from her class in their big purple tutus.
“Hi, Ellie,” one of the dance instructors said as they approached. Ellie really did talk to everyone, because Jessie was pretty sure this girl only taught the advanced classes and she’d only seen her around the school once or twice. The girl asked, “Did you come to watch your class dance?”
“Yes, Miss Emily!”
“I hope it’s okay that we went behind the curtain,” Jessie said.
“It’s fine,” Emily said with a shrug. “I’ve done it at least a dozen times tonight.”
The girls on stage tapped their way back into the wings where Jessie and Ellie had just come from, and then it was the beginner ballet class’s turn. Ellie sat right down on the floor at the back of the stage, hands on her chin and a huge smile on her face, and Jessie wicked away a few beads of sweat forming on her forehead. It was hot behind those heavy curtains, even without the huge spotlights shining on them.
“You look flushed,” Emily whispered to her.
“How do you stand it being back here all afternoon?”
“Lots of water,” Emily said, nodding at a bottle on the floor a few feet away. “You should go get some air – this ancient building isn’t air conditioned.”
Jessie nodded toward Ellie, but Emily said that she would watch her for a few minutes. Ellie sat like a stone on the floor anyway, and Jessie knew she wouldn’t move an inch until her class was done with their routine. She had at least three or four minutes, the length of the song, and it would be nice to go outside and feel the breeze on her face.
“Ellie,” she whispered, crouching down beside her. “I’m going outside for just a minute. Emily’s here if you need anything, okay?”
Ellie hardly acknowledged her, though – she was absorbed in the dance and gave her mother nothing more than a quick mm-hmm. So Jessie went out the way Emily showed her and found a hallway that led to the school’s rear parking lot. She went through the doors and took in a deep gulp of the cool spring air.
“Jessie?”
She turned around and leaning against the wall was Melody. She didn’t look the greatest, either, her face the inverse of Jessie’s – clammy and pale – and there was something slightly panicked in her eyes.
“Melody,” Jessie said, shooting her a look of concern. “Are you okay?”
“Super-duper,” Melody said, giving her a sarcastic thumbs up.
“What are you doing out here?” Jessie asked, coming over to the wall where she was leaning. “Don’t you have to help Mary Beth?”
“Yeah,” Melody said. “I have to get back in there.”
But she didn’t budge from the wall.
“Well, this wall isn’t going to hold itself up,” Jessie said, leaning against the brick a few feet away from Melody. She had no idea what was wrong with her, if she was sick or if there was something else going on, but Jessie also could not stop the thought that this was the closest they had been to each other since that first day when Melody’s fingers brushed her palm.
She suddenly had the urge to reach out and take Melody’s hand in hers, just to see if there would be sparks again. Maybe the first time had been a fluke, or maybe they’d picked up a static charge from the carpet when they touched.
That wouldn’t explain the way her heart was beating faster now, or the tingling in her belly when she caught herself thinking about lacing her fingers through Melody’s.
Melody laughed at her dumb joke, giving Jessie an appreciative little smile and then tilting her head back to rest against the wall. “I came out here because I thought I might puke or pass out or something. I’ve been having panic attacks lately and they’re not exactly a trip to Disney World.”
“I always thought the lines and the overpriced food would make the whole vacation fall a bit short of magical,” Jessie said. “That’s why I’m grateful Ellie hasn’t asked to go yet. That, and the fact that I probably couldn’t afford to take her even if we both live into the double digits.”
“I went to Disney World when I was eight,” Melody said, her smile widening just a little more this time. “All I remember was my little sister crying because she loved Goofy on TV but hated him in real life.”
“Mmm, like so many men,” Jessie mused. “Good in theory, not quite so appealing when you find yourself face to face with them.”
Melody gave her a funny look and Jessie blushed furiously. That was definitely a comment she should have kept to herself – it wasn’t the kind of thing you said to your background people, but then again this wasn’t really the type of situation she usually got into with background people. She never even bothered to learn the names of all the gas station attendants and bank tellers and cashiers that came in and out of her life, let alone started to dig into the messy depths of her psyche for their benefit.
“I mean, that big nose would probably freak me out, too,” Jessie added quickly, looking down at the pavement.
“For sure,” Melody said. “I don’t claim to be an expert on schnozes but that thing has got to be pharmaceutically enhanced.”
Jessie had to keep her jaw from dropping at this. Did Melody really just make a dick joke? And was it reading a bit too much into her statement to focus on the part about not being an expert? Jessie cleared her throat and stepped away from the wall.
“So, panic attacks,” she said.
“Yeah,” Melody answered. “You were doing such a good job of distracting me until you went and brought it up again.”
“Sorry,” Jessie said, pacing back and forth in front of Melody.
She didn’t want to lean against the wall beside her because it seemed impossible to be so close to her and not slide a little closer just to find out if there was a spark. She pictured Melody as a human version of one of those science class plasma globes – an exquisite, olive-skinned and chestnut-eyed version. If Jessie got too close, the lightning inside her would arc and reach for the lightning in Melody, and she didn’t know what would happen if they touched.
“So…” Jessie said, reaching for anything at all to say. Everything that came into her head was a double entendre, and she wasn’t brave enough to voice any of them.
Luckily, Melody came to the rescue.
“Do you want to smoke a joint?” She blurted. Jessie just looked at her, a little lost, and Melody pulled a little glass tube out of her back pocket. “I was thinking about taking a hit or two before you came out here, to take the edge off.”
“Oh,” Jessie said. “I don’t mind. Do whatever you need to feel better.”
“You’re not going to tell Mary Beth?”
“No, of course not,” Jessie said.
She took a step closer to Melody as she watched her pull the stopper out of the glass tube. Slid into it was a very thin, meticulously rolled joint, and when she opened the tube, a faint skunky smell wafted out. Jessie wrinkled her nose.
“Do you smoke?” Melody asked, pulling a lighter out of her other pocket and holding the joint between her thumb and forefinger. She was watching Jessie watch her.
“Kinda skipped that part of my teenage years,” Jessie said. “Pregnancy can be a bummer for your social life.”
“I put my teens off for about five years,” Melody said as she put the joint to her lips. Jessie watched them purse around the tip of the joint, unable to tear her eyes away. Melody added, careful not to let the joint slip, “There’s no room for the munchies when you’re trying to be the next Misty Copeland.”
“Wow,” Jessie said, and a flash of irritation crossed over Melody’s big brown eyes at this blatant show of awe.
“I guess I’m doing all that immature teenager stuff now instead,” she said as she
flicked the lighter.
The paper at the tip of the joint ignited in a brief flame, then died down as the dried material at the center caught fire. Melody took a quick drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds before tilting her head back and exhaling a long plume of smoke into the air above their heads.
She saw Jessie watching her intently and held the joint out to her. “Want to help me make up for lost time?”
The idea of doing anything with Melody made something tingly rise in Jessie’s stomach – she thought this must be the sensation people got when they talked about butterflies – but at the same time, something in her chest told her to go back inside and focus on her first and only goal, Ellie. The beginner ballet class was probably finished dancing by now, and without intervention Ellie would be following them back to the dressing rooms and making a pest of herself.
Jessie really should think of her parental duties.
For just a second though, she looked at Melody leaning against the brick wall of the high school that Jessie dropped out of five years earlier, and she imagined what it would be like to say yes. There was something happening here and Jessie didn’t want to leave now.
With her heart pounding, she reached out and took the joint. Her fingers brushed against Melody’s, and the only thing she could think of as she looked at it pinched between her thumb and forefinger was that this was so very unlike her.
“How long will it last?”
“About an hour if you’re lucky,” Melody said. “It’s not very good weed.”
“Will Ellie notice?”
“Not unless you’re planning to smoke the whole thing,” Melody said with a smile.
She was amused at Jessie’s complete lack of experience, and Jessie couldn’t help thinking it was a bit charming the way Melody’s dimples became more pronounced when she smirked at her.
Melody turned to face Jessie, her shoulder still leaning against the brick wall, and it seemed like the space between them was shrinking every minute. Their eyes met, and Jessie allowed herself to linger openly over Melody’s face for the first time. Her tongue flicked briefly over her lips, her teeth biting into her fleshy lower lip as a smile played over her face, and then she said, “Maybe take a small hit just to see what it’s all about.”
