Chapter 13
Walking to the theater for my first class with the company, I moved in spurts, like a little girl going to a new school. One moment, excitement propelled me forward, and the next, fear brought me to near paralysis.
I’d put my hair up while it was still wet, and the perfect bun helped me stand tall. The little teardrop earrings Mom had given me as a departure gift added to that feeling, and I was certain my day would be fabulous.
But now that we were on our way, my confidence was shaky at best.
Jakob had told Claus I could start as a guest and be an understudy during rehearsals until fall auditions—my chance to join the company for real.
“What if they don’t like me, Claus?” I stopped and covered my eyes. “They probably worshipped Hanna and will hate me when they figure out we are together.”
“Nonsense. Don’t worry about them.” He put his arm around me and gave me a quick kiss on the temple while pulling me along. “Plus, no one worshipped Hanna. She was very private and came across pretty standoffish.”
“Ugh. I’m so nervous.” I walked faster.
“Just go out there and have fun like we did in Georgia.”
“I have a hard time enjoying myself around girls who are better than me.” I chuckled realizing just how wrong I was. “That sounded petty—crap—sorry.”
“You’re competitive. Nothing wrong with that.” He looked at me and hesitated before adding, “Now the cursing, that doesn’t suit you.”
“Oh, Claus, you’ve said that before.” I rolled my eyes. Was crap really a curse word? “Who cares what I say and don’t say? Cut me some slack. This is a big day.” I palmed my fingers against my sweaty hands.
“I’ll try.” He grabbed my hand as we reached the end of the tree-lined streets of his neighborhood. “But it really doesn’t suit you.”
We waited for traffic to stop and crossed Bierstadter Straße, leaving behind silence, shade, and the fragrance of jasmine.
Downtown was architecturally pleasing and greener than most, but it was still a city center busy with buses, cars, shoppers, workers, and students.
At the Warmer Damm Park, even the ducklings seemed to be in a hurry as they swam after the mother duck who appeared to be after three ladies walking their dogs.
What if I don’t understand the class? What if I’m too crazed to memorize the combinations?
Men in suits walked mostly in groups and engaged in what looked like animated conversations. Only the tall magnolia trees and the swamp cypresses were still and at peace. Could I borrow their stillness? My eyes looked heavenward. Please let this work, God.
A woman’s voice singing an aria from Verdi’s La Traviata turned my attention to the huge Neo-Baroque-style theater.
“Violetta.” Claus pointed to a row of windows from where the music came. “‘Addio, del Passato.’”
“Is that what she sings when she’s dying?” Dad was the opera buff of the family, but I had seen that one.
“That’s what she sings when all the lies that had separated her and Alfredo are clearing up—but she knows that it’s too late now and that she’s dying.”
“That’s right.” They get to see each other, and he apologizes for not believing her. Then she dies—in peace. I let Claus lead me closer to the entrance. Only the Friedrich Schiller Monument stood between me and the opulent state theater now. I’d come this far. A dead poet and his odd-looking muse were not going to stop me.
Claus walked me to the door of a ladies dressing room, kissed my cheek, and winked. “I’ll see you in the studio.”
I nodded—my throat was too dry for words. Let’s do this.
“Hi.” My voice came out faint, but the beautiful young blonde who saw me walk into the dressing room had heard me.
“Hi.” She smiled, her big brown eyes offering a gentle welcome, as three women nearby looked up.
I got a wave and two eyebrow nods from the group—all with smiles. And then they returned to their original conversation in what sounded like Russian. Not too bad.
The dark-brown velvet of my favorite three-quarter-sleeve leotard caressed my arms as I finished getting ready. Looking at the blonde from the corner of my eye, I was convinced she was one of the principals whose pictures I’d seen on the website.
More people arrived, but they didn’t seem to notice me in the small dressing room that got crowded fast. I put on my warm-up pants and organized my ballet shoes for class to the music of at least three more languages: German, English, and Spanish.
Then a woman in street clothes came to the door and said something in German. Everyone stopped talking and started moving toward the door with big bags, water bottles, and extra warm-up gear. Following at least forty girls, I wished I’d already started my German lessons with our downstairs neighbor.
I walked into the studio and picked a spot far from the front and far from the pianist and hoped people wouldn’t wonder how I’d ended up in their class.
Claus walked in with a tall dancer whose olive-tinted complexion, deep brown eyes, and dark hair hinted at a Spanish heritage. Light stubble on his square face and a perfect cleft chin added to his handsomeness.
Next, Claus talked to the pianist, an elegant man in his fifties, and handed him what looked like sheet music.
I’d expected him to go to whatever his favorite spot was, but after putting his bag down near the piano, he came straight to me.
There goes the flying-under-the-radar idea. Dozens of eyes were on us.
Stretching his calf muscles, he winked as the corners of his mouth turned up. “The ballet mistress is not here today, so Jakob will teach. Still nervous?”
“I wasn’t.” No pressure. “I shouldn’t have taken such a long break. This will be a disaster. What was I thinking?”
“I feel nervous when the director comes,” the girl behind me whispered with an accent I couldn’t figure out.
We were both chuckling when Jakob walked in. He didn’t seem to notice me or our soft girlish giggles, and if he did, he didn’t look like he cared.
“I am Luciana Pilar,” the girl behind me muttered. “Luci. From Chile.”
“Ana—United States,” I said before turning my attention to the director.
Jakob showed us a simple foot and ankle warm-up, going through it quickly and without music. I had it memorized fast. We faced the barre to start, and the pianist played the first notes of Josu Gallastegui’s “Promenade”—the same music that had touched my heart during our opening night warm-up in Columbus. Is that what Claus gave the pianist? That was sweet. Looking at him from the corner of my eye, I mouthed a silent, “Thank you.”
He offered me an encouraging grin, and my cheeks warmed up. Now, to focus on the rest of the body.
As expected of a prominent ballet company, the room was crowded, the combinations elaborate, and everything was fast-paced.
“Preparación, let’s go, and the one, and the two, and the three, and the four…”
Sometimes I heard three languages in one sentence come out of Jakob’s mouth, but the fact that the names of the steps remained in French everywhere in the world helped me get through the exercises.
Jakob kept his verbal corrections to a minimum, often simply touching or pointing to a shoulder, upper back, or whatever part of the dancer was out of place.
For the second part of the class, the center, I was in group two with Luci. All three principal dancers were in group one along with other women who were probably the soloists. Claus was in group three with all the other men.
Being in group two was good because I had extra time to memorize the combinations, but it also meant that the best dancers—and Claus—would be watching me.
Each group took turns working on the first slow exercises—exercises designed to help us transition from having the support of the barre to working without anything to hold on to. We now had to find our own balance as we got our whole bodies dancing.
In a way, each ballet class took us through a baby’s whole cycle of learning to walk. The barre was equivalent to the cruising stage.
Then in the center we did small, slow steps first, like a toddler taking two steps between two pieces of furniture. Still in the center, the movements became bigger and more ambitious—the toddler’s longer and more controlled distances.
After that came the diagonals which were often combinations so beautiful they were fit for the stage. That would be equivalent to the toddler becoming a confident walker—and runner.
But ballet positions are so unnatural, and balancing a whole body on the tips of one’s toes so difficult, that every day dancers have to start at the cruising stage again to position the body—reminding it of what it takes to go from mere body to an instrument of magic.
It was time for group two to do the first more ambitious exercise of the center, and Claus and all of group one were casually looking either in my direction or in the direction of my reflection in the mirror.
I’d done that a million times when someone new showed up in class. There were no evil feelings toward the new arrival, but there was always a palpable curiosity—a need to categorize her. There were only two categories: competition and not competition.
I cannot mess this up. They will forever judge me for what I do in the next sixty seconds. Even if I end up in everyone’s not-competition category, I want to at least look pretty.
Waiting to start, my breathing was even, heart rate normal. Claus had said that my stage presence was a rare gift. I had to use that. It would be silly to smile a big smile in class, but I could be serene and ethereal and make sure my arms and head positioning were impeccable.
Claus was looking at my reflection in the mirror. His forehead furrowed. Relax.
Jakob walked to the front of the room. “Preparación, and…” As soon as he said “and” the piano started.
Ethereal.
The combination involved pirouettes and big fondu développés. I bent the supporting leg slowly, melting, while placing my working foot pointing on the ankle. Big and light now. As I straightened the supporting leg, the working leg unfolded and extended high in the air. Good. After repeating that step in different directions and switching legs, it was time for pirouettes.
I remembered what Brian had said about not rushing and staying up, letting gravity bring me down when it was time. Triples? No … clean doubles. Stay serene.
Letting the soft music flow through my body, I plied and prepared and spun. Clean double. Deep breath. Repeat once, twice. Change direction. Repeat. Breathe. Good. Smooth ending. Arms. Ethereal. Exhale. Yay.
Jakob lifted his hand like a maestro. “Third group.”
Claus passed me as I walked toward the barres, and his mouth curved into a smile.
I’d survived the judgment minute. Phew.
The flow and direction of the diagonal jump combinations that followed were beautiful and smart, helping the body transition from one step to the next. During an exercise that ended in a series of pas de chats, I landed gracefully after flying as high as the piano. Oh, how fun—this is certainly the life I’m supposed to live.
It was the guys’ turn to do the same combination. There were fourteen of them. Eight were really strong dancers. The others were good, but they didn’t have the same effortless ability to dance that Claus and the rest did.
Not as good—is that what people are thinking about me right now? I’d succeeded at not embarrassing myself and had managed to follow the class so far. But was it enough?
My eyes glanced at the simple wall clock. We had five minutes left.
The men jumped as the pianist played fortissimo, and Jakob pushed them hard. “Der Sprung—schtep, schtep, sprung, und sprung, und sprung—gut.”
Was I good enough?
“Révérence.” Jakob stood in front of us, and the pianist played another Gallastegui composition. We followed his arm movements and breathed together, then he said something in German and everyone started exiting the studio.
I walked to him to introduce myself. The moment of truth.
“That was a lovely class, Ana.” He made notes on a big binder without looking at me. “You will be Luci’s understudy. You just shadow her all day, yes?”
“Yes.” I guess that’s good. “Thanks.”
The company was rehearsing Balanchine’s Theme and Variations first, a twenty-minute ballet that’s a challenge to anyone’s technique and physical endurance, and I looked forward to learning it. Luci was an understudy.
Claus partnered Ekaterina for Theme, the gorgeous Russian girl from the dressing room who was also the best of the three principal dancers. Ekaterina’s technique was flawless, and I looked forward to seeing her in rehearsal.
“Let’s do everything that requires Claus and Ekaterina to be here first.” Jakob had two people standing with him now, a man and a woman, but I had no idea who they were or what their jobs were. He turned to Claus. “That way you and Ekaterina can move to one of the smaller studios and go over ‘Paquita.’”
Don’t be jealous.
For the first two minutes of the ballet, we stood like statues while Claus and Ekaterina executed a few simple steps. I watched them through five rows of dancers. Her arms came into view. Elegant, regal, and effortless. How beautiful.
The corps accompanied Claus once. After that, every time I tried to learn something, Jakob cut to the next part that had the lead couple in it. It’s all right— look at him. Claus’s first solo was an explosion of talent and stamina.
“Sehr gut.” Jakob took a step forward. “Corps can step out. I want to see the pas de deux now.”
What if I don’t want to see it? Why can’t it be me up there? I walked to a corner barre and rested my leg on it to watch them. I hate feeling sorry for myself. Hate it. But oh, how I wish…
As soon as they looked at each other, a strong heat that originated in my chest traveled up my throat and settled on my cheeks. They had a familiarity with each other that takes years to build—they must have been partnering forever. Wow … they even breathe as one.
She looked at Claus as if he were the only person in the room. How could I not be jealous?
It’s just work—better get used to it. There’ll be lots of prima ballerinas in his life.
They finished their part, and he waved at me from the door.
I raised my hand with a small smile to acknowledge his gesture. Good. I couldn’t take it anymore. Ekaterina … even her name was pretty.
Now I could get to work. Luci and I and the whole corps continued rehearsing Theme, dancing until we had nothing left to give.
By the time we were done, I had big chunks of the choreography memorized. I would find Theme online at home to get the missing parts memorized.
The rehearsal had made me want to be in the company even more. Would they let me do an individual audition, or would I really have to wait for the general audition? It would be hard to watch performances without being a part of the show.
Luci approached me. “I have a one-hour break. That means you do too. Do you want to go get something to eat?”
I’d brought some energy bars and fruit, but a break from feeling like I was a zoo attraction with eyes constantly on me sounded pretty good. “Sure.”
At a little café by the theater, we sat outside and ordered cheese omelets and juice. The midday sun brought a more peaceful pace to the park. Dozens of people read and sunbathed on the grass, small children played soccer, and a group of bikers stopped under a big tree.
They spoke in American English, and I couldn’t help but feel a little homesick. Nope, not homesick enough to endure Calvary Baptist. I shook my head. What was a Baptist anyway?
Luci pulled out a pack of Jin Ling cigarettes and offered me one.
“No, thank you.” I took my orange juice from the waiter and placed it on the bare circle table between us.
“I forget people in America don’t smoke anymore.” She drank half of her juice before putting her glass down.
“So, how long have you been with the company?” I asked, watching her light her cigarette.
“Four years in the school, two years in the company.”
“Did you make it in your first audition?”
“No.” She laughed. “Four times. Then I passed.”
Oh my goodness—bless her heart. The waiter came back with the food, and the pause gave me time to find something nice to say. “That’s good that you didn’t give up.”
“Yes. It is very good.” She smiled.
She ate fast, and I followed her lead.
When we finished, she lit another cigarette and asked for two coffees and the check. I was thankful to be there with another dancer and someone who knew how to order, what to order, and when to go back to the theater. Did she do this every day? Should I?
Three girls and one guy from the company sat at a table twenty feet from us, and when I looked at them, one of the girls waved our way. I waved back.
“So Claus is taking care of you?”
I laughed and everyone looked our way. “I’m sorry.” I covered my mouth. “I wasn’t expecting—”
“It’s okay.” The corners of her eyes crinkled as her lips stretched.
“He is taking care of me.” Was I prepared to answer questions about my relationship with Claus? I wasn’t sure.
“Good. That’s very good.” She put out her Jin Ling and leaned back on her chair, relaxed and looking happy to be there. “You know him a long time, yes?”
“Ten years.”
Her eyes widened. “Very long time.”
“Long time indeed.” Was she fishing for information or just trying to make pleasant conversation? I couldn’t tell.
The waiter arrived and Luci gave him some money. “Give him nine euros,” she told me, looking at our check.
We walked back fast and in lively conversation. She told me she was happy dancing in the corps and had no ambition of being a soloist.
“You will see the energy here is good.” She snubbed out another cigarette before entering the building. “Small companies—people still want to arrive somewhere. Here, people are happy. They have arrived.”
I knew exactly what she meant and wanted that feeling more than anything. I was approaching my thirties and the peak of my technique. I wanted to be stable someplace to enjoy that technical maturity while growing more and more artistically. Oh, God, I don’t want to audition four times. Please make all my dreams come true now. I’ve never been so close. Or so tired…
Did God hear prayers? Did He hear my prayers? Probably not. Why would He? I only talked to Him when I needed something—big somethings. Please, I don’t want to audition four times.
I heard Claus’s voice and told Luci I would catch up.
“Be quick.” She continued walking. “Corps starts Paquita in twenty minutes. I dance this one.” She turned around and looked at me with a wide smile. “If I break something, you have to dance.”
“Okay. It’ll be just a minute.”
She shook her head and chuckled as she approached the dressing room.
I liked her—my new friend. I’ll just say hello to Claus, and then I can join her again for some Paquita action.
Claus’s voice was coming from the office area. Maybe I should go straight to the dressing room. Then I heard Jakob’s voice too. Could they be talking about me? I was dying to know what people were thinking about my dancing. Maybe I could listen in for a minute.
But even if they were talking about me, they would be speaking German, and that would do me no good.
Checking the hallways for dancers or staff, I took a step closer to the voices. English? That’s odd.
“I’m sorry, Ekaterina, but I cannot let you take any time off,” I heard Jakob say. “You will have to figure out a way of working together.”
Ekaterina? I could hear my heartbeat, but nothing from the room.
I heard Jakob’s voice again. “Claus, this would be a good time for you to say something. You started it, yes?”
“Where are my zings?” I heard her cry.
Zings? Things? What in the world?
“I will bring them tomorrow,” Claus said.
Claus has Ekaterina’s things?
I heard what sounded like someone getting slapped and rushed to the nearby bathroom. Squeezing behind the door, I held my breath.
Peeking over a rusty hinge, I saw Ekaterina walk toward the studios as she covered her mouth and squeezed her brown eyes shut. How could he not tell me he was in a relationship?
Jakob came out of the office too. Claus followed, and Jakob talked. “Make Katya happy. I am not going to lose her because of an average American girl.”
The smell of the thick glossy paint mixed with the embarrassment from Jakob’s words sickened me. Average? I slid down the wall and hugged my knees.
Do I even have a future here?
“I looked for you everywhere.” Claus found me on the terrace at home, pulling the last dead plants out of his large Victorian planters. “What happened?”
“I finished rehearsing.” I got a large root ball and put it in a cardboard box I’d found in the laundry room. “We did Paquita and a new modern piece Luci is learning.”
“You had a pretty good first day.” Claus sat on one of two iron chairs and picked up the bottle of Kirner I’d put on the circle table. “You know you are supposed to pour this in a cup.” He lifted the bottle and looked through it.
Looking at him for the first time since he’d been home, I picked up the pilsner glass I’d been using.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you had a glass.” He took a deep breath. “The glass is not really important. Why are you upset? Did someone say something that hurt you?”
“Someone said something that hurt me, all right.” I put the glass down close to my chair, got the box of dead plants, and dumped the contents on the floor by his fancy leather boots before handing him the box.
“What is this for? What happened?”
“I didn’t see her ‘zings’ in the guest bedroom, so they must be in your room, but I wouldn’t know—I haven’t been invited there yet.”
“You are welcome in my room anytime, and as for Ekaterina, it was nothing serious. We were just … I’m really sorry, Ana.”
“Looks like it was serious to her.” I cleared the table and walked inside.
Claus followed me in. “I didn’t think she wanted a committed relationship, Ana.”
No, he didn’t think—he was right about that part. “Are you committed to me?” I opened the fridge and got another beer.
“I love you, Ana.” He took the bottle from my hands and opened it for me. “I’ve loved you for more than ten years now, and I’ve thought about you every single day of this whole time.”
“Then take her stuff back to her and be done with it.”
He nodded and watched me drink. “No glass?”
“Nope. This average American girl is gonna drink beer the average American way tonight. Cheers.” I lifted the bottle in his direction and walked back outside.
He followed me again. “Remember, German beer is a lot stronger than what you’re used to.”
“Good.” I went back to the flowerpots, working the soil with my bare hands.
“I’m really sorry about putting you through this,” he said before disappearing with the box.
By the time I got in, he was gone, and I had three missed calls. All from Mom. Was something wrong? I tried not to panic as I waited for her to answer her phone.
“Is everything okay. Mom?”
“Hi, Ana.” She sounded cheerful enough—if something was wrong, it wasn’t anything big. “Was today your first day? How did it go?”
“Yeah, today was my first day. It went well, but I’m really exhausted. Can I call you tomorrow? I just saw the three missed calls and thought something was wrong.”
“Well, I saw Peter at the park today and something seemed odd.” There was a moment of silence. “Do you know if he’s sick? Do you guys talk?”
“We don’t talk, Mom.” What was she trying to get to? “What do you mean by odd?”
“I can’t quite figure it out—just different.”
“Are you making this up to find out if we’re talking?” My hands were filthy from gardening with no gloves. I had to wash them before doing anything else.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
She wouldn’t—I believed her. But it was one of the weirdest conversations we’d ever had. I said goodnight and hung up, only mildly concerned.
During my first days in Germany, I had thought about Peter a lot and often felt as if I was just going through the motions of my new life. But with time, that had improved.
Lifting my eyes to the kitchen clock, I did the math. Two-fifteen in Pine Mountain. He was probably at work. I went back to the terrace and sat with Barysh.
Was he still with Lorie—playing the guitar, singing, planting, and building with her? I’d had enough to drink, but the lump in my throat needed another beer.
While in the kitchen, I checked the time again. Almost three in Pine Mountain. Before I could talk myself out of it, my cold fingers dialed Peter’s number.
“This is Peter.”
The pain came in waves as I replayed his voice inside my head—This is Peter.
“Hello?” His voice was casual. He had no idea who was on the other end of that line. If he’d known, he would either be mad or happy—not casual.
I’m gonna be sick.
I heard a quick click after what sounded like him dropping something. And then nothing. Just silence.
Slow tears rolled down my cheeks, and I walked an uneven line to the bathroom, my pace faster as I approached it. My shoulder hit the doorframe hard, but I was in.
I didn’t make it to the toilet, though.
“Classy,” I mumbled, looking at the vomit on the floor. I was thankful Claus wasn’t home.
“Ana? You okay?” Claus was at the bathroom door.
Really? “I didn’t know you were back.”
“I just walked through the door. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.” He looked at the floor.
Could life get any more embarrassing?
“Can I help?”
“No!” I walked to the door and stood between him and my mess. “You can help me find Theme and Variations on YouTube,” I said before locking myself in the bathroom and turning on the shower.
I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Claus had warned me that the beer was strong. It was nice of him to not say, “I told you so.” I would have deserved it.
Shouldn’t have called Peter either. What was I thinking?