MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets
Page 40
Until the teacher asked them to try the positions out.
The girls pushed their legs around in the awkward first position, just turning the balls of their feet outward completely. She walked along the line of girls, commenting on their posture. "Correct, nice, karasho, little straighter, don't wave your hands around, always be aware of them, keep them rigid, nice, da, that's perfect, that's good for now, very well, Marina, and... oh." The teacher stopped in front of Natalia. She put her hand on top of her mouth. "That's, good enough, yes. What's you name, sweetheart?"
"Natalia, miss." She was excited, and kept her legs in the first position. Or, at least an approximation of that position, since she couldn't possibly do the pose herself.
"Natalia, that's good enough," the teacher said and patted her on the head.
Marina snorted loudly, and the girls next to her whispered something.
Natalia didn't care. She was learning ballet, finally! This was all she ever wanted in life.
Natalia was ten. She had been learning so much at ballet! But she couldn't do all the positions, in fact she could do none of the basic five positions. Her teacher usually nodded and skipped Natalia, or just paid no attention to her. She didn't mind, she just stood there at the end, being a pretty little ballerina, dancing away. But she was getting flexible, she could arch her upper body backwards, she could reach down and touch her 'toes,' with air-quotes, meaning the tips of her blades. She could spin, she could turn, she could do everything.
Everything except dance with Evan. He was blond, sweet, kind. All the girls wanted to dance with him, but of course during the actual rehearsals only Marina did. He was from a nice family, he had a soft voice, and he could lift you up and keep you there! Evan was so strong.
Evan never danced with Natalia, though.
It was time to refit her blades. They were getting quite worn out and she was getting bigger, so daddy took her to the prosthetiscist. He was a funny guy named Lenny.
"I'm a ballerina," was the first thing Natalia told the young man as she popped her blades off.
He held her blades in his hands over his workspace and Natalia sat on a stool on the other side. "Well, yeah, you're using these quite extensively. I can fix them up right away."
"I'm getting taller!" Natalia said, puffing her chest.
"That you are, missy. We can accomodate for that, don't you worry. I've got some new alloys that will make the ride smoother."
"I don't need smooth. I need to be able to do the five positions of ballet. Can you do that?" she asked.
Lenny turned to her daddy. "What's that?"
"Um, positioning of the feet, you know. Like a ballerina," daddy explained quietly, showing with his twisted palms.
"Oh, no, sorry, you don't have any articulation down there," Lenny chuckled. "Why would you want to do that anyway? Getting a twisted ankle is no fun, Natalia."
Natalia pouted. "But miss Olga says I need to be able to do them to be a proper ballerina. Without the five positions, how can I be one?"
Lenny started working on the blades, removing the worn parts. "Natalia, you gotta expand your mind. Having an ankle to twist is a structural flaw." He pointed a screwdriver at her. "Tell me, don't the other girls complain about their legs getting tired?"
"All the time!" Natalia rolled her eyes theatrically.
"But you don't. See? It's already better your way." Lenny smiled and continued working on the blades.
"But miss Olga..."
"Miss Olga's mind is very limited," Lenny said. "Tell her that your very clever and awesome prosthetiscist said that she should adapt your plies and your turns or whatever to what you can do, and stop trying to force you to do what you simply are not equipped to."
Natalia frowned at him. "Those are too many words. Can you write them down for me?"
Lenny laughed. "It's okay, I think your dad can carry the message for me." He finished screwing new blades, they were shiny. "Here, try these on."
Natalia wiggled the stumps of her legs in anticipation. Daddy helped her pop them on and she hopped on her feet, balanced like a proper ballerina, then gave it a spin. Then another, then another. She finished with a flourish, her hands opened delicately in a ballerina's pose.
"Wow, Natalia!" Lenny clapped his hands. "That was awesome, see? Let me get some pictures of you for the website, if that's okay with your dad?"
Daddy nodded.
Natalia performed her turns and Lenny took video and some pictures to put online on Agora. She was really proud to be able to help Lenny, because he was helping her and all the kids just like her.
Natalia was eleven. It was the casting call for Nutcracker. Maxim Kumarov, the famous choreographer needed a few children ballerinas for his ballet.
The girls were anxious. "I can't believe we're getting this chance!" one said.
"It's certain Mr. Kumarov will pick you, Marina," another said.
Marina simply raised her chin and carried on with her workouts.
Evan was across the dancing hall, stretching in his ballet tights. He looked magnificent, and all the girls stared at him when they could. "He's a really good dancer, it's a safe bet that Mr. Kumarov will pick him for the part."
The auditions were the scariest thing Natalia had ever experienced in her life. One after another, miss Olga called the names of the little ballerinas and they walked on stage, bowed, and performed in front of Mr. Kumarov. He sat on the front seat, smoking. He'd express discomfort, or clap, or give another instruction. Or, he'd simply say, "Next! Davai, davai," and the girl would hurry off the stage and go crying into the embrace of her mother.
"You can do it, Natalia," daddy said and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Really, daddy?"
"Oh, definitely," he said. "Daddy knows everything."
Natalia was left for last. Marina was the one before her, looking smug as always. Perhaps miss Olga wanted to keep her best ballerina till the end, surprise the famous choreographer. Everyone kept saying it wasn't a sure thing, after all.
Marina walked on stage, looking wonderful, stepping on pointe, being magnificent. Of course, Mr. Kumarov had a keen eye, he could see faults and details where others couldn't. He pointed out one such mistake as soon as Marina stepped in front of him, and all the girls smiled. Natalia did not.
Marina turned her lips into a line and performed for the demanding man. He nodded, stippling his fingers, his attention on her. He gave her a few more instructions, she performed beautifully.
Mr. Kumarov waved. "Bring the boy, please."
Miss Olga pushed Evan onto the stage and all the ballerinas sighed as he walked past them. The music started. He got on the mark and followed the instructions of Mr. Kumarov, dancing with Marina.
Every second that passed, the previously bored Mr. Kumarov became more and more animated, leaning forward. "Da, da. Excellent," he mumbled.
The girls peeked through the stage curtains. "Of course he'd pick Marina, she was born to be a prima," one of them said and the others agreed.
He lifted her up by her delicate waist, she kept her perfect posture and landed with the barest hint of touch. They truly were amazing together. This was ballet, this was how it was supposed to be performed. Mesmerising, beautiful, ethereal. In other words, ballet.
A few minutes passed and miss Olga stepped on stage. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kumarov, there's one more girl for you to see."
"But I don't really need..." he started to say and stopped himself. "Of course, bring her in."
Miss Olga looked apologetic. "Mr. Kumarov, this ballerina cannot move in and out of the pointe position."
He sucked in his cigarette, making the tip burn. "What's the point then? Ha, funny. The point, not the pointe."
Marina and Evan started to leave the stage.
"Nyet, you, the boy, stay. Dance with the last girl, eh? I wanna see some more of your moves."
Nonono.
No.
NO.
As if the audition wasn't stressing enough,
she had to dance with Evan as well? Of course she wanted to, but not right now! Daddy pushed her on stage, she stepped awkwardly with her new blades.
Mr. Kumarov stared at them and frowned deeply. He lit another cigarette. It seemed to Natalia he had made his decision already. Truth was, that her blades were ugly. They had no place in ballet, that's what miss Olga said. But Natalia was here to audition for a real production of the Nutcracker with a world-famous choreographer, so she wasn't going to just give up.
She gulped audibly and walked up to Evan. He smiled at her, but he too seemed to feel awkward around her. Natalia realised that she was the only girl Evan had never danced with during their lessons. Natalia stood opposite of him, bowed in a proper ballerina pose, and the music started.
They danced wonderfully, it was only natural since Evan was a wonderful dancer himself and Natalia had been dreaming about this moment for a year now.
Mr. Kumarov spoke on the phone. Natalia knew she had lost the audition to Marina, but she didn't really care right now. She was dancing with Evan, and she felt loopy, like she was flying around him.
And then it was time for the lift. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, Natalia heard the girls gasp as he did so, and Natalia kept her posture as best as she could and waited for him to bring her down.
She touched the floor with her blades and opened her hands in a flourish.
"Ouch!" Evan cried out.
Oh no. Natalia looked down, horrified.
"You cut me," Evan said and held his foot. Blood seeped out into his white costume. His mother rushed in, miss Olga, everyone.
Natalia stepped backwards on top of her blades. She wanted to rip them out, throw them away, crawl on her hands out of there, never to be seen again.
Her daddy came in and hugged her, but she didn't feel better. The damage was done.
Natalia was twelve. Marina went on to dance for the Nutcracker, just like everyone expected her to.
Evan's injury was much worse than they thought, a tendon was cut and it snapped when he tried to dance again. He needed surgery, the tissue never healed right and he abandoned the ballet. Her mommy and daddy argued a lot about this and they didn't take her back to the same dancing school ever again.
Natalia kept practising on her own. She put on her tutu, turned on her ballet music, she watched YouTube videos, she kept learning and practising every single day.
Mommy sometimes told her it was pointless but then daddy would whisper to her and they'd leave her to her dancing. Natalia kept reliving that wonderful dance with Evan, his blond hair, the way he picked her up, the way she flew in his arms. She went through her steps again and again. She should have just dropped this way, she thought, crossing her legs in the proper way, and not this way. She shouldn't have tried to mimic the way a ballerina with all her limbs could land. She simply was limb-different, she had accepted that. Why couldn't the rest of the world accept it as well? If miss Olga had taught her how to land the way Natalia should, there wouldn't be an accident. Natalia wouldn't have injured Evan, wouldn't have ruined something beautiful.
But, maybe miss Olga didn't know how to teach her that. That's what Lenny said, anyway. Maybe she hadn't even tried to figure it out. But Natalia had figured it out, see, it was just like this. No big deal. Natalia landed properly again and again. Her blades made the landing even smoother than Marina's.
Natalia was thirteen. Lenny called, daddy said he was really excited. They went over to the prosthetics workshop, Natalia always liked seeing Lenny.
"My favourite ballerina!" he greeted them, clapping his hands. "I have very good news for you."
"What is it, Lenny? Something new for my blades?"
Lenny pointed a finger at her. "Actually, yes. But that's not all. Remember those pics we took a few years ago for my website?"
"Da."
"Well, one of my maker friends online, he's in Australia but it doesn't really matter right now, saw your pics and had an epiphany. He sent me the 3D schematics for this and I printed them for you. Ta-da!" he said, and opened a case with an amazing pair of new prosthetics.
Natalia reached out and touched then with her fingertips. They were different. Straight, like bullets, made of a weird, foamy white stuff. They curved as they went down into rubbery tips, they looked like a ballerina's leg on pointe, completely straight. "But Lenny, I can't walk with these."
Lenny brought them out and down to her height with a grunt. "They're not meant for walking, Natalia. They're meant for dancing," he said.
"Oh, you mean she can just swap them?" daddy asked.
Lenny shrugged. "Sure, why not. Ballerinas put on their shoes, right, whatchacallit?"
"Silk pointes," Natalia said, popping her blades off on the stool.
Lenny helped her put the new prosthetics on. "Right. So, you'll just put on your pointe prosthetics when it's time to dance. Big deal."
Natalia stood up. She wobbled, and her daddy held her up. "Nyet, let me," she pushed him away. She wobbled again, walking on tippy toes for the first time in her life. It was weird, and to think that a ballerina moves in and out of pointe position fifty times per performance on average...
Natalia had it, she smiled wide. "Bring on the camera!"
And then she fell flat on her face.
The men came to help her up, she pushed them away. "Nyet! Let me do it alone."
It took her two endless hours of non-stop trying to get it right. She was tired, she was sweaty, she was bleeding, the new prosthetics chafed because they needed some wearing down and perhaps some olive oil on the contact point, but she wasn't gonna give up.
When she managed to keep the pointe position and perform just like a proper ballarina, her daddy started crying uncontrollably.
Natalia went back to miss Olga's classes. Her mother pleaded with her to just go elsewhere, but they were both adamant about their own opinions. Her daddy grumbled something about them being both bullheaded and just drove her up there.
The ballerinas whispered to each other, the news got around. Some girls were new and some old girls weren't still with the ballet class, but gossip was gossip.
Natalia didn't care. She put on her shiny pantyhose, then her spandex leotard, it was bigger now, she was getting quite tall and strong, and then put on her tutu skirt. Finally, as the other ballerinas put on their pointe shoes and rubbed chalk on them, she put on her pointe prosthetics.
Every single girl stared.
Natalia tiptoed into the dance hall, not a care in the world. This was what she always dreamed of.
Miss Olga didn't object this time when Natalia changed up a few of the standard moves to fit her particular limb difference. Natalia had practised everything on her own a million times, she knew her body perfectly, she adapted everything that she couldn't actually do into something that she could do and that looked as wonderful as standard ballet.
Miss Olga had an urgent phone call and left them alone to practise. She came back with a sorrow-looking Marina. Natalia couldn't believe this was the same girl as before, her eyes were sunken, she was thinner, her ribs protruded out of her torso and even her beauty had been tarnished.
"She's doing cocaine, they say," a ballerina gossiped to Natalia.
"What? No, can't be. Marina is a prima, she's the best," Natalia argued.
"That's exactly why, it's too stressful. They say she can't take it. Miss Olga helps her out, but what can she really do?"
A few weeks passed and both Natalia and Marina kept going to the ballet classes. Marina only glared at Natalia, not even acknowledging her presence in the room. Natalia didn't really want to confront her. She knew she had ruined a pretty good thing for the prima. She wasn't naive, it would probably have been ruined some other way, Natalia knew first-hand how life threw curveballs at you, but that didn't mean she wanted to be the one to actually be at fault.
Feeling the guilt, one day she just walked up and told her. "I'm sorry for Evan," she blurted out before she could change her mind.
Natalia didn't know what came over her. She grabbed her shoulder and stopped her. "No, I really am sorry. Things could have gone different between you and Evan."
Marina stared daggers at her now. "Never. Touch me. Again. You freak."
Natalia pulled away. "Alright. I just wanted to say I was sorry."
"You did, three times already," Marina snapped at her. "I'm not deaf. Now get out of my sight and stay there."
Natalia raised her hands in surrender and left the prima alone.
Natalia was practising on her own in her usual corner of the dancing school. Nobody really bothered her, and daddy wasn't waiting around anymore because mom found some messages sent on his Agora profile and said the other mothers were 'skanks' and added a couple more profanities after that.
Natalia didn't mind, she was old enough to stay at the lesson on her own. She took the bus home too. As she stretched her limbs far beyond what someone thought was comfortable and into the realm of painful, she smelled a familiar stench. At first she didn't quite place it, but then it hit her. Auditions, Evan, Mr. Kumarov, cigarette smoke, blood.
She felt woozy and ran to the bathroom.
When she got back out, Mr. Kumarov was at miss Olga's office arguing with her. Marina was sitting on the chair, arms crossed and pouting like a proper teenager should.
The helpful gossip girl showed up next to Natalia again. "She's not doing well, and the rehearsals are about to start next month. You know, for the Nutcracker."
Now she had Natalia's full attention. This was her dream. "Really? Where are they playing?"
Mr. Kumarov kept sucking one cigarette after another.
"Oh, all over Europe. It's a tour, such a big deal. That's why they're shouting, I guess," the gossipy ballerina said.