84 Ribbons (23 page)

Exhaustion crushed Marta by the time she returned to bed and pulled up her bed covers. “Thanks, Mrs. B.”

“I’ll check on you when I’m up at night, see if you need a little help. What you need is a commode in your room. Then you won’t have to navigate the hall or the bathroom as often.”

“Can I empty it myself? I mean, I’d feel embarrassed having people dump it for me.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. If I wore that cast, you’d help me, right? Now, try to get back to sleep.”

Try. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry.
Would she ever feel accustomed to hearing those words over and over and over? For the next hour she stared into the darkness, unable to focus. Seven weeks of days and nights stretched ahead like a black ribbon of highway.

Sleet tapped the windows in the common room where Marta sat holding her mom’s hand. “I wish you could stay longer.”

“I know. I wish I could too, but I’ve been here a week. January is a busy month for ordering recital costumes. Miss Holland needs to place her order by January thirteenth to ensure she receives them in May. Are you sure you don’t want to drive back with me?”

“I’m sure. Madame would see my leaving as walking away or being weak. I
have
to stay and earn back my position.”

“I guess I knew you’d decide to stay. I’d do the same in your position.” Her mom stood and kissed Marta’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, sweetie. I know you’ll be fine. Call me Sundays, okay?”

Marta nodded and wiped away her tears. “Be careful. I’ll miss you.” She wheeled to the window and watched her mom’s car disappear down the street. The tap, tap of the sleet broke the silence of the empty house.

Around noon, Lynne walked in covered in snowflakes. “Hey, thought you might like company. Hope you like peanut butter and banana sandwiches. That’s all I have in my place until I get paid.”

“Sounds perfect. Can you stay and help me exercise?”

“No problem. Classes don’t resume until two.”

They sat in the common room to eat and talk before they began the exercises. “Thanks for coming over and bringing lunch. Mom just left. It’s so quiet here during the day.”

“Bet it is. Nothing is quiet at the company. Madame’s all twitchy about our next performance. With you out and Bartley a no-show, she’s having a fit and daring everyone to complain about anything smaller than a serious illness. Jer sneezed, and she gave us a lecture on staying healthy. I’m so busy learning extra choreography that my head is spinning. She may call up two dancers from the local dance school to fill in as peasants.”

“I’m sorry. She must know I didn’t plan to get hurt. No wonder she hasn’t contacted me.”

“And on top of that there’s the
Giselle
costumes. She says they need more repairs than the seamstresses have time to do.”

“I could help. Once my hand is stronger, I can repair or replace embellishments.”

Lynne helped Marta exercise her upper body with resistance pulls and pushes with her right arm. “I’ll mention it to Rosemary. I’m surprised you didn’t go home. I’d take you to my place if it would help.”

Marta shook her head. “I’m fine here, except for needing to exercise twice a day. Now, tell me how the
Giselle
choreography is shaping up.”

“It’s okay. We’ve completed most of Act One, the peasant scene. Lots of
balancés
and partner dances. I even have the privilege of partnering with Marguerite.”

“I remember that act as being lots of mime and village dances.”

“It is. Not much to audition for unless you want to be noblewomen, but they don’t dance. I’m auditioning for Myrtha, the Queen of the Wilis. She’s one heartless ghost. That’s right up my alley.”

Marta smiled. “I always wanted to dance as a Wilis. Those white dresses and the spooky gravesite in the moonlight look magical.”

Lynne massaged Marta’s back and shoulders as they talked. “You should see Patrice. She’s amazing as Giselle. She must have a hundred turns, yet she hardly breaks a sweat. It’s exciting to watch her learn new choreography. She struggles as much as we do, but she’s expected to learn things more rapidly than corps members. If we want to move up in the company, we’ll need to work on our technique and stamina all summer.”

“Are you signing up for any summer seminars?”

“A few. Marta, we could to apply together. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

Marta shrugged. “I’d need Madame’s or Damien’s approval. It’s too soon to know if they’d approve.”

Lynne stood and carried their empty plates into the kitchen. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes. Two things. Please bring down my ribbons box and...help me write an article about
Giselle
.”

“A box I can do. No to the writing, Marta. I can’t write.”

“You don’t have to. We just need to tell the story, put in the names of the principal dancers, then Steve or Susan will do the rest. Please?”

“I guess I could help you. Damien is letting us shadow the principals, so my days are longer than normal. I’ll come over for dinner later this week and we can work on it. Just promise you won’t volunteer me ever again.”

Marta raised her right hand. “Promise. Now, can you get the box?”

After Lynne left, Marta wheeled to her room and closed the door. She pawed through her ribbon box and smiled. Her stash of diet pills remained tucked away under her
pointe
ribbons. She counted nine. Maybe a pill or two a day would help her eat less and boost her energy. That meant she’d need to call the drug store before this weekend and have them deliver several packs to replenish her supply.

On the last Sunday in January, the girls worked on ideas for the article. Lynne read it aloud to Marta.

Giselle is a romantic ballet about a young nobleman, Albrecht, who falls in love with Giselle, a village girl, the night before he’s to marry Bathilde, a nobleman’s daughter.

The ballet has two acts: one shows the peasants at harvest time, the other takes place in the graveyard where the ghostly Wilis (the spirits of young maidens) dance at night.

“Sounds good,” Marta said. “Should we mention that Patrice Royal performs as Giselle?”

“Yep.” Lynne wrote out the information. “And we must mention that Neil Barstow is in town to play Albrecht. Let’s leave the composer information and other details for Steve. He needs to do some digging for his article.”

“True. When he comes over, I can go over whatever he needs before he finalizes the story for Madame to read.”

“I still think I’d rather go to the dentist than write.” Lynne picked up her purse and danced to the front door. “I’m going home to clean up my mess, then sleep ten hours so I’m the brightest corps dancer in the company. Night, Marta.”

The next evening as Marta read their ideas to Steve, he chuckled. “You two saved me a bunch of work. I’ll add details, then send it to Susan, who’ll run it past Madame. Watch for it in the paper over the weekend.”

When the phone rang early Friday morning, Marta answered. It was Damien. He sounded tense. “It seems you and Lynne wrote an article about
Giselle,
is that right?”

“Not exactly. We gave the reporter the outline of the ballet.”

“Madame will not allow it to be printed.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not an active member of the company.”

“But my name isn’t on it.”

“It is, Marta.”

“Well, take my name off.”

“It’s too late. Madame put her foot down. Sorry.”

As Marta hung up the phone, it rang again. It was Steve. “I just heard. I’m sorry, Marta. It’s my fault. I put your names on so people would know that people who knew the ballet contributed to the article. Susan said she’d talk with Madame and try to salvage it.“

Lynne stretched her arms and shoulders as Marta relayed the message about the article. “No wonder Madame looked at me like I had two heads. Let’s just forget the whole thing and get back to your exercises. I need to get back for afternoon rehearsals. With the
Giselle
dress rehearsal in four days, I’m afraid she’ll send out her bloodhounds looking for me. Did Bartley call or come over?”

“Nope. I’m afraid something terrible has happened to her. She’s been gone almost a month.”

While they worked, Marta distracted herself from her pain by asking Lynne about the company. “How’s Jer doing?”

“He’s the understudy for Hilarion, the game keeper. He’s very strong. If he follows through this summer and accepts a regional invitation, his poor girlfriend won’t see much of him, but he’ll get solos next year.”

The phone in the hall rang, and Lynne hurried to answer it. “Bartley! We were just talking about you. Where
have
you been? Oh. Uh-huh. Seven. I’ll tell her.”

Lynne shook her head. “Strange. Bartley said we’re to get dressed up. She’s taking us out to dinner at the Granary so she can explain everything.”

“I can’t go to dinner.”

“Sure you can, Marta. I’ll swing by at six and help you get gussied up. When we see her we can decide if we’ll forgive her.”

“But the wheelchair.”

“So? I helped you get in here from the hospital. And with that ramp James and Shorty built, it won’t be a problem. As long as you don’t try to roll away and leave me behind.”

The Granary hostess directed Lynne and Marta to the dining room, an upscale area with tablecloths and straight-backed chairs. Bartley stood and waved as they approached. The copper crepe organza sheath she wore made her look like a paper-thin goddess.

“Good grief,” Lynne said. “You really meant it when you said get dressed up.”

Bartley’s new thinness startled Marta. How and why had she lost so much weight in such a short time? Marta took a deep breath and smiled to hide her concern and her wanting to crawl in a hole to hide her plain cotton shirtwaist dress.

Bartley leaned down to hug Marta. “Oh, Marta. Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?”

Marta smiled and straightened her back. “Just tell us what’s going on and where you’ve been.”

“I’ve been in San Francisco. I had an audition.”

“Whoa. San Francisco?” Lynne said.

“I’ve quit the Intermountain Ballet Company,” Bartley said.

“What!” both girls said together.

“When?” Lynne said.

“Why?” Marta asked.

“I had an audition the day after Christmas. That’s why I left right after the last
Nutcracker
performance. I didn’t want to tell you about it and then not get a position. I stayed on to visit relatives and begin dancing with the company. This was my first chance to come back to see you guys and Madame.”

“What did she say?”

Bartley shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”

“That’s amazing news.” Marta struggled against the lump that settled in the pit of her stomach. Bartley had all the luck and good fortune. She’d be dancing solos before her own recovery was complete.

“I only flew in to get my belongings packed to be shipped. I fly back to San Francisco tomorrow. You two could tryout next year if you each grew three inches taller. Then you’d meet their height requirement.”

“Fat chance of that,” Lynne said. “Guess we’re stuck here in cowboy land.”

“Think of it this way. Now you have a place to stay in San Francisco, and I have one here as well, okay? Let’s celebrate.” Bartley signaled the waiter, who poured three glasses of sparkling cider. She lifted her glass. “To our friendship and the rest of our lives.”

While the three ate shrimp cocktails, Bartley shared more information. She’d be living with her grandmother in San Francisco on Russian Hill. When they came for a visit, they’d go to Fisherman’s Wharf, Coit Tower, and Chinatown.

Lynne hoisted her glass. “Happy Groundhog Day, everyone. Looks like it’s going to be spring for Bartley and more winter for us. To Bartley Timmons, the next prima ballerina in California. You’re an amazing dancer as well as a good friend, even if you are deserting us.”

“Thanks, I guess. Please be happy for me.”

“We’re happy for you and a lot jealous,” Lynne said. “You deserve this, but we’ll miss you. Right, Marta?”

Marta nodded, swallowing down an explosion of tears with her sip of cider.

Later that evening, Marta sat alone in the common room, looking at the television but not seeing the program. Bartley’s leaving shocked her, but what a great opportunity. She stared at her cast. Would she ever dance for a prestigious company? Heck, would she ever dance again?

The doorbell rang. Mrs. B. answered. “Hello! She’s inside.”

Expecting Steve, Marta startled when Bartley walked in.

“Hi, Marta. Mind if I join you?” She sat on the couch next to Marta’s wheelchair. “You didn’t eat much tonight. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

“No, not at all. That’s amazing news. I’m just not very hungry these days. Your leaving surprises me. I had no idea you were unhappy here.”

“I wasn’t unhappy. When I heard about the vacancy, I wanted to audition. I...I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, but I’m proud of you. Wow. The San Francisco Ballet!”

“Exciting, huh? I wanted to be sure before I told anyone. My parents are still in Europe; they don’t know what I’ve done.”

“They’ll be proud of you.”

“Maybe. But they’ve never come to visit or see me dance.”

They sat in silence holding hands until Bartley patted Marta’s arm and stood. “I’d better get going. I need to finish packing. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“Bartley, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise? How about I come back next summer for a visit. We’ll drive to San Francisco and spend a few days acting like tourists.”

Marta looked down at her hands, then smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good. It’s a date.” Bartley scanned the common room and sighed. “You know, I envy you.”

“Me? Why? You’re going to dance with the San Francisco Ballet. I’d rather be you.”

“You live in a cozy house, ride a bike to the company, and you‘re happy. I know you’ll dance again.” After she hugged Marta, she rushed out the door.