The last group of dancers had exited through the backdoor. The assistant director of City Ballet Company moved from office to office, reaching inside to turn off the light switch. Then he rounded the corner and moved up the creaky staircase, walking past cheaply framed posters promoting past performances.
The red brick of the building still bore the faint but sweet aroma of the tobacco leaves which were cured there until the decline in demand for American tobacco curtailed operations. The warehouse and offices lay in disarray for years, until the city, in an urban revitalization plan, purchased and renovated the buildings as a mecca for artists.
He turned left as he entered the right side of the rectangular rehearsal room, aiming for the Master Control switches for the light and sound systems which were housed to his left at the back of the room. He turned down a few lights, when movement at the far end of the room caught his eye.
One of the ensemble dancers for the Company's upcoming production of
Giselle
was resting quietly on the floor. As she looked over towards her, she arose slowly, apparently oblivious of his presence. She remained motionless for a moment, looking into the large mirror which covered most of the stage-left wall. He paused in the rear shadows and watched.
She appeared to be in her middle twenties and was tall: a few inches short of six feet. She wore a simple black leotard over white stockings. Her dirty blonde hair was parted neatly down the middle and pinned up behind in a bun, allowing the pale white skin of her neck to show clearly. Her face was rounded, showing an apparent Slavic ancestry. Her cheek bones were full and high, and still shown forth a slight blush from the vigorous rehearsal moments earlier. Her nose was small, neither thin nor broad. Her eyes were pale green, large and round, capped by a naturally dark eyebrows that extended well across the eye at each end. Her look was buoyant and youthful.
She slowly stretched her arms high, arching her back and leaning sideways. Then she moved her torso to the opposite side, like a tender plant being pushed and pulled by an unfelt breeze. She again stood straight, reaching out and taking hold of the
barre
bending her knees in the movement dancers call plies. Down, up. Down, up. Then her feet and legs moved in a more choreographed pattern. She stood with her left foot out in front of her right, slightly overlapping in a cross pattern. Jumping, she reversed the position of her feet rapidly, then switched them back before landing. Again. Jump, switch, back. Jump, switch, back. She brought her arms forward of her body, curved as if holding an imaginary cylinder. Then slowly up over her head. Her movement revealed the well-defined muscle tone in her shoulders, back and arms. Then leaning over, her arms lowered a bit, the right arm remaining out, wrist bent down, like a flower slowly wilting.
He dimmed all but the lights at the center of the large windowless room. Slowly working his way through the shadows, he approached with a dancer's practiced lightness, in total silence.
She stretched up high, elevating herself onto the tips of her shoes, as if suspended on a cloud. His hands reached out gently to support her. Her torso flinched at his touch. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder. Her tension eased at seeing his face. His hand took hers and lifted it up and out. As if on cue, she continued in her routine. She leaned to her right, stretching out her hand, while lifting her left leg out and holding it straight. His hands reached to steady her, resting on her hip and thigh.
She then began a series of spins, jumps, and twirls, the practiced steps of the ensemble coming naturally to her after the many hours of rehearsal.
She paused, appearing content with her performance. He walked to the back of the room and pushed a button. The orchestral sounds of the ballet emerged from the overhead speakers. He forwarded the tape past the overture, partway into the opening act. He started his own steps, demonstrating the opening dance of the male lead in the upcoming performance. She watched. He appeared older by about ten years and slightly taller. He was dark, both in his eyes and hair, which was cut short on the sides, but showed enough growth on top to allow a slight curl to emerge. His visage appeared Mediterranean, his skin a bit toned. He had a day's growth of his dark beard showing, the overhead light accentuating the shadow caused by the slight stubble.
She smiled at his expertise in the role. He bowed, then held out his hand. She hesitated, as if not sure what was expected. He began the movements of the
pas de deux
of the male and female principal roles. She gingerly tried to perform the female part. He encouraged her with his eyes, several times repeating the sequence till she became more familiar.
