Scene 18
Scene Eighteen...Audition #1
Time: Morning, Saturday, February 16, 1946
Place: South Beach Ballet School
Storyteller: Janet
As Madame "C" drives, I alternate my worries between the audition and Doris's health.
Fortunately Mom has a gift for polite conversation. "Madame Caillebotte, Janet's been taking lessons from you for a decade, yet I'm embarrassed to hardly know you. I'm from near Philadelphia. Where were you born?"
"Limoges, France, but at age fourteen I moved to attend the 'Paris Opera Ballet School.' After graduation, their dance company hired me."
"When did you come to America?" Mom asks.
"1920. You see, my husband, a doctor, died at Amiens during 'The Great War."'
"Oh my. He was a hero. I'm very sorry, Madame."
"Thank you. I've been happy teaching in Miami and Viridian."
We arrive! Anna and Sergey come out to greet us. His smile turns somber. Wonder why?
"Please excuse me," Mr. Brodsky says. "Mistress Anya will conduct your audition. Good day ladies."
He pivots toward the breakers hitting the beach. Anna invites us inside.
My dream studio. So much mirror, with the longest barre...and a wall of east windows, ocean-view.
Anna could be a model, with strawberry blond hair pulled back into a classic bun. She gets right to business. "Janet, please change into your tutu." She points to the dressing room. "No pointe shoes," she adds.
Good. No dancing on my toes today. I put on my short ballet skirt as fast as humanly possible.
Mistress wants me to begin at the barre. She tells me what to do in French. "Plie," Anna says.
Without the pointe shoes, this means to do a demi-plie, a small bend of knees while heels are on the floor which creates a diamond shape. This stretches all the muscles of my legs.
"Releve," says Anna.
I rise onto the balls of my feet from a plie position. This strengthens legs, ankles, and feet.
"Battement tendu," Mistress says.
The working leg opens and closes. My foot is stretched along the floor, ending in a point. This improves turnout.
"Rond de jambe," says Anna.
I make a semi-circular motion with the working foot...on the floor and then in the air. This increases flexibility of my hips.
"Do these barre exercises in the five basic positions of ballet," Anna says.
Eventually she wants me to move to the center of the room. "Centre practice." I obey instructions for what seems like an eternity.
"Thank you, Janet. We'll be in touch." I've been dismissed.
Back in the car, Mom is first to speak. "Madame, how did our girl do?"
She was impressive, but Anna probably wants to talk it over with Sergey."
It's hard to concentrate on their conversation today. Mom notices and asks why.
"Doris is sick. I can't think about dance."
"What's wrong with her?" Mom is alarmed.
"She doesn't have any energy, so Betty drew her blood. We'll get lab results Monday."
"Please don't worry dear. Look at how much better I feel. Doris might only need a diet change."
Time: Morning, Saturday, February 16, 1946
Place: South Beach Ballet School
Storyteller: Janet
As Madame "C" drives, I alternate my worries between the audition and Doris's health.
Fortunately Mom has a gift for polite conversation. "Madame Caillebotte, Janet's been taking lessons from you for a decade, yet I'm embarrassed to hardly know you. I'm from near Philadelphia. Where were you born?"
"Limoges, France, but at age fourteen I moved to attend the 'Paris Opera Ballet School.' After graduation, their dance company hired me."
"When did you come to America?" Mom asks.
"1920. You see, my husband, a doctor, died at Amiens during 'The Great War."'
"Oh my. He was a hero. I'm very sorry, Madame."
"Thank you. I've been happy teaching in Miami and Viridian."
We arrive! Anna and Sergey come out to greet us. His smile turns somber. Wonder why?
"Please excuse me," Mr. Brodsky says. "Mistress Anya will conduct your audition. Good day ladies."
He pivots toward the breakers hitting the beach. Anna invites us inside.
My dream studio. So much mirror, with the longest barre...and a wall of east windows, ocean-view.
Anna could be a model, with strawberry blond hair pulled back into a classic bun. She gets right to business. "Janet, please change into your tutu." She points to the dressing room. "No pointe shoes," she adds.
Good. No dancing on my toes today. I put on my short ballet skirt as fast as humanly possible.
Mistress wants me to begin at the barre. She tells me what to do in French. "Plie," Anna says.
Without the pointe shoes, this means to do a demi-plie, a small bend of knees while heels are on the floor which creates a diamond shape. This stretches all the muscles of my legs.
"Releve," says Anna.
I rise onto the balls of my feet from a plie position. This strengthens legs, ankles, and feet.
"Battement tendu," Mistress says.
The working leg opens and closes. My foot is stretched along the floor, ending in a point. This improves turnout.
"Rond de jambe," says Anna.
I make a semi-circular motion with the working foot...on the floor and then in the air. This increases flexibility of my hips.
"Do these barre exercises in the five basic positions of ballet," Anna says.
Eventually she wants me to move to the center of the room. "Centre practice." I obey instructions for what seems like an eternity.
"Thank you, Janet. We'll be in touch." I've been dismissed.
Back in the car, Mom is first to speak. "Madame, how did our girl do?"
She was impressive, but Anna probably wants to talk it over with Sergey."
It's hard to concentrate on their conversation today. Mom notices and asks why.
"Doris is sick. I can't think about dance."
"What's wrong with her?" Mom is alarmed.
"She doesn't have any energy, so Betty drew her blood. We'll get lab results Monday."
"Please don't worry dear. Look at how much better I feel. Doris might only need a diet change."