InsaneJournal

Week Five: Friday night
Who: Lirije and Drystan
What: A reunion after the ballet
Where: The Pacific Northwest Ballet, and then who knows
When: Friday night
Rating: Well, I'm gonna go with probably gonna get up there. Be warned.



The stage lights were up out front and Lirije was waiting in the wing, pointing the tip of her toes in the resin box to avoid slipping before taking her place in line. She was going to be the first out, head of the line of dancers. She knew it was only because of her height (or lack thereof); it looked better if arranged with the shorter dancers on the end and taller dancers in the middle. She was the shortest of the entire corps. She listened carefully for her cue and led the other dancers out under the spotlight. It was always hot under the lights. The air conditioner blasted backstage to give the performers a break and cool them off before they went back out.

She'd rehearsed this dance so many times that it was second nature. No thought required. It was always less effort for her as well; she was stronger than the other ballerinas. Nothing was as much of a strain because her muscles could take more abuse. Pointe work was still brutal--toes weren't meant to be used that way--but it wasn't as hard on her as the others. She also had gotten a solo during the closing scene of this ballet due to her strength. Her extension and the elevation she got in her leaps was something the others couldn't always achieve. Right now, however, she was part of a unit. She and the other ten dancers moved in unison gracefully, everything rehearsed to look effortless. They were a living background for the two principal dancers downstage as a romance unfolded between them. This wasn't a continuous story; it was a series of scenes choreographed and directed by directing students at the company, so the curtains went down on one scene to give the dancers a few minutes to prepare for the next.

And then it was off to the wings again, to readjust pointe shoes and change costumes. Three more scenes, and it was time for Lirije's "starring role." While it wasn't woven into the storyline of a traditional ballet and while it was directed by students, it was bigger than anything she'd ever danced in front of an audience this size before. She stepped out onto the stage before the music started and took her starting position, lying on the stage floor, wooden surface heated by the stage lights above. Then she rose and began dancing, slowly with the music as she rose onto her toes, every movement slow and controlled. It started with gentle extensions and flowing movement, arms moving nearly as much as her legs. Then the true feel of the music started, beat speeding up, and so did her steps. She was alone in front of the audience, but the nerves had disappeared now, leaving only the feeling of dancing. It was as if she were acutely aware of each muscle movement, no matter how subtle, and she controlled it, even as she sped up more and more. From that gentle beginning, she was running across the stage, pirouetting, demonstrating her strength in the height and control of each grande jete, the amount of time she could hold an arabesque, and finally, at the finale, the number of fouettes she completed before ending the show just as she had started, lying on the stage floor.

The adrenaline was rushing as she stood to cursty before walking back off and into the dressing room. The show was over now, and she washed the stage makeup off her face but didn't bother changing out of the tights and leotard she had worn in the last scene. Instead, she just pulled a pair of sweatpants over the tights on her legs, switched her ballet flats for tennis shoes (after bandaging her blistered toes, of course) and pulled a zippered sweatshirt over her shoulders to protect her from the Seattle chill.

But she lingered after the show was over, when the rest had gone to the cast party dressed up in evening gowns and heels instead of tutus and pointe shoes. She didn't like the parties. There were too many people all vying for attention, all fighting to move higher up in the company by schmoozing with the art director and the patrons. Lirije liked the silence better; it felt safer than being in the midst of a crowd. So while the rest were in the lobby sipping cocktails, Lirije stepped out the stage door to the dark back parking lot and lit a cigarette, leaning against the cold brick wall as she smoked. It was dark and the freezing rain fell just beyond the overhang, but she wasn't as sensitive to the cold as humans were. She could stand it long enough to spare her car the smell of smoke sinking into the upholstery. Besides, there was something peaceful about the snow that was beginning to drift down, dancing in and out of the glow of the single street light in the employee parking lot.

[she doesn't look like this, but this is the dance I had in mind http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYPQHrBNnfw in case you need a visual ]