Chapter 4 - New choreopragher

The vibrant sound of music filled the car as Everth parked. The emotion of the performance invaded me but the difference between that feeling I had when I was a child, and now, was that the dancer in the theater would be me. I felt that desire that bordered me when I was little, that of becoming a prima ballerina and it invaded me again, making my eyes shine brighter than ever. The image of the dancer on stage, with her delicate and graceful movements, dancing with the lightness of a leaf blown by the wind, was etched in my mind.

—How about after the show we go to the fair again? —Ludy suggests, turning to me with a mischievous smile.

- Yeah! “I would like to try water guns again,” I exclaim, remembering those moments full of laughter and a little chaos between her and me.

“But only if you promise not to get me so wet this time,” Ludy jokes, raising an eyebrow.

— "I promise!" — I respond, crossing my fingers as a sign that I will keep my word.

The theater loomed impressively before us, its entrance illuminated by flickering lights. People crowded in line, excited about what was to come. My heart raced; art had always been a small spark in my life, and today it seemed to shine brighter than ever.

We got out of the car and walked toward the theater entrance. The tension and excitement in the air were palpable; everyone spoke in hushed tones while the band played in the background. Ludy took my hand, and together we joined the line.

At that moment, I entered the theater through the back stairs that connected to the dancers' dressing rooms, and Everth took my hand. I looked at my phone and saw a text message from my sister:

“L, I’ll see you tomorrow, remember it's our parents' anniversary.” I read it and remembered that I had a family dinner tomorrow night.

“Okay, we need to reserve the table for that night,” I replied, typing quickly on my phone.

Fifty years ago, a letter was an excuse for conversation and play. I remembered how Dad used to write letters to Mom, almost intimately, like a lover confessing his true feelings. I, on the other hand, wrote letters to myself in a kind of diary that stripped me bare and made me question myself. Writing invited me to the reflection that nuances and the confession that has long-lasting consequences; the consequence that irrevocably led me to choose and make decisions that turned me into the dancer I already was. In short, the lightness and the depth. It was also the space for everyday agreements and rather urgent clarifications. And if the alchemy of that astrologer who revealed my future and that of my sister had worked its magic with the secret of the stars, my life would take an unexpected turn in the next few minutes.

Inside the ballet studio, the beauty of the day, the clear clouds, and the bright sun were reflected even in the wooden floors and the perfect, pristine mirrors. The clear morning, with a blue sky full of white clouds. Birds flying, spreading their wings thirsting for the sun. Colorful, vibrant leaves began to fall in the light of day, like living patches of summer. The leaves fell onto the asphalt as I observed the city through the glass windows of the theater. Upon entering the theater, the dim lights and carpets covering the main hall seemed to immerse me in a humid haze.

Love, you look very beautiful this morning, - said Everth, taking a strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear - your fair skin and blonde hair seem to drink in the sun; they look even blonder in the morning.

Thank you, love; you also look very handsome in the mornings, - I replied, flashing a radiant smile. We walked towards the mirror room number 2, where we usually have rehearsals on Tuesday mornings. Upon entering, I could see the light bulbs reflecting their glow on the wooden floor, shining all over the floor in pure light.

A sudden and strong brightness came from the hall as Everth moved the red curtains, revealing the rehearsal room.

I walked quietly, with my hair in a ballet bun. His fellow dancers looked at me coldly at first, and then, when she cast them a candid and fleeting glance, they smiled at me with an expressionless gesture in their eyes. I took off my pink vest and revealed my body; black tights and a white leotard wrapped my back and chest completely, except for the sides of my waist, where a lace trim subtly revealed my skin.

The company's director entered and called us all to form a circle around her. We joined her, and she waited for Yitzel and Juan, a couple of dancers who had just arrived, to join along with two dancers who arrived a couple of minutes after Yitzel. One of them wore a white leotard embroidered with lace on the back of her abdomen, very similar to Ludwika's. Yitzel, on her part, wore a black leotard and a short muslin skirt to the thigh, and her wavy afro hair was loose and wild, tousled, held by a ribbon on her head. The dancers chatted animatedly; the dancer who dressed similarly to Ludwika approached me and hugged me with fierce eyes and a candid smile. I smiled sweetly. The director asked for silence and addressed all the dancers while looking at us intently.

As many of you know, the ballet "The Dying Swan" will be presented this year to welcome autumn. It is a very intense, delicate ballet and will be represented by our beautiful Ludwika, - said the director.

At that moment, all the dancers applauded, looking at me; I felt my cheeks burn and smiled with joy, noticing that Belina, who was next to me, did not applaud and smiled at me fleetingly.

For the start of autumn, we will also have 3 classical ballets that will be choreographed by our excellent and renowned choreographer, Navil Paleta, who agreed to come from New York to Milan to take charge of the creation and re-adaptation of the choreography, - the director added.

The dancers applauded again. Suddenly, Navil entered, a woman of about 30 years old; she had Asian features and a perfect face. The new teacher and choreographer greeted the director. The room filled with silence. I languidly observed my new teacher and choreographer, and when she returned my gaze, she looked at me intently. The woman left her belongings on the floor and walked to join the dancers. Then I had no doubt; she was the same woman I had met the night before at the bar while I was talking to her about tango, and she was telling me about the beauty that ballet dancers possess. The job I was supposed to go to early that morning, when she invited me to her hotel room, was this; now she is our new choreographer.