Page 13 of Pages of Amber
Amber nodded at the order. She began with a series of combinations, fromplié,tenduandfondu. She ended in agrand battementand awaited her next order.
“Again.”
The instructions came and Amber followed, her movement fluid and familiar. Director Meusall nodded her approval and told her to step away from the barre as she changed the song over the speakers. Amber didn’t recognize the tune until the Director pulled a folding fan from her bag and handed it to her.“Don Quixote, Kitri Act III.Visualize this as the stage. I want the right steps, the right expressions. Everything. Are you ready, Amber?”
“She is,”her mother answered. She folded her hands in her lap, her voice clear as she said.“She’s known this dance since she was fourteen. Show her.”
Amber smoothed her palms on her skirt, taking a deep breath. She may have learned the steps at fourteen and danced it at fifteen but it had been a while since any of that. She took a moment to recall the steps of Kitri’s scene. The story of this ballet was a popular one. A nobleman decides to become a knight to revive chivalry. He takes the name Don Quixote and travels across the town where he meets Kitri, mistaking her for a beautiful woman in his dreams. Kitri escapes from Don Quixote with her love and after a series of adventures, the young couple get married.
Amber flicked the fan in her wrist as the director pressed play. As the intro began, Amber tipped her chin and placed on her smile. She did as she was instructed, visualizing she was on stage with her mother and Director Meusall as her sole audience. It was one of the first dances her mother had wrung out of her amidst tears and struggles. Now, Amber wanted to impress Director Meusall but she wanted to impress her mother more. She wanted to show her she could still recall the steps, following her teaching. If nothing else, she wanted to hear her mom say she had performed it well.
At the rising, Amber leaned into the music. Muscle memory took over, leading her into each step. She rose onto her pointes, stepping into thecoupé.Her smile turned genuine with the movements as she realized she remembered it more easily than she thought.
But right as it sunk in, she heard her mother’s voice.
“Arms, Amber. Raise them.”
She blinked, pulled out of rhythm but quickly did as said. She rose her arms and centered her core, trying to flow with the music as blood rushed into her head. Was she not getting the steps? The answer came in the form of another order from her mother.“Center yourself. Hold the attitude.”
She continued on, feeling her heart race. She forced her smile to stay on so she wouldn’t give her mother another thing to correct. As she did anarabesque, another sharp remark came.“To your right diagonal, Amber. You missed the step at the–”
“Mallory.”Her mother’s name was a blunt knife that effectively cut into the rising tension. Director Meusall continued,“Let her finish.”
Amber felt grateful for the interruption but it was too late to do anything. The music came to an end and she barely landed in her ending position in time, feeling much less confident and cheerful than when she’d started. The room fell into silence, both women staring at her. One with a calculating gaze, the other a cold one.
Her mother grimaced.“Who taught you that dance?”
Amber blinked. “You did.”
“No, I didn’t. I would never teach such nonsense.”
“I’m sorry, I was trying to get my footing and I–”
“That shouldn’t be an excuse. How many years have you been dancing, Amber? How many?”She stayed silent. Her mother wasn’t asking for an answer. She was making a point. Teaching a lesson. Amber dropped her eyes, wishing the lesson didn’t have to hurt so much.“Seven years and you can’t perfect anarabesque. There is no excuse.”
“She was doing fine before your instructions. You weren’t supposed to say anything. I wanted to see how she did it on her own.”Director Meusall tipped her chin, her eyes narrowed. She stepped in front of Amber’s mom, pulling her eyes off Amber.
“Well, you saw it, Helena. I would assume you’re as unimpressed as I am, or maybe your teaching has dulled with age.”
The former prima ballerinas faced off right there, their gazes clashing and words cutting. The air grew stiff, the setting sun’s rays casting long shadows of the two women across the hardwood floor. Amber shrunk back, wishing she could shut her eyes or her ears, whichever one would pull her out of this uncomfortable situation. She was the one at fault. No one needed to be blamed for it.
Director Meusall retorted,“If I recall your words correctly, that dance wasn’t learned under my wing but under yours. Yes?”
Her mom glared, her red lips pinched tightly.“That may be true but it was under your institution that she came a measly second in that competition. You and I both know the judges only awarded her that performance because we were her mentioned mentors and not for that …mediocreperformance.”
Her heart gaped, torn apart by the woman who shared her blood. How could her mom say something like that? With Amber standing right there? She wanted to sink right through the floor. She had trained and practiced relentlessly for that competition. Sure, her mother hadn’t celebrated or even acknowledged her win at the competition but knowing her mom saw all her hard work asmediocre… it hurt so much more.
“Mom–”A weak protest left Amber’s lips, jerking both women’s heads to her as though they were reminded of her presence. Director Meusall gave a regretful sigh but her mother didn’t spare her a second glance.
“I think we’re done for today. I’ll take my leave,”Director Meusall said, her eyes on Amber’s mom.
“You can see yourself out,”was her only response.
The silence stretched after the Director’s exit, both of them stuck to their positions across the room. Her mother moved first, her back to Amber as she faced the windows.“You should’ve done better. You could’ve done better.”
“What?”
“Fix it, whatever that dance was supposed to be. Those kind of slip-ups will never get you anywhere in a dancing career.”
