On Sturdy Legs

As My Feet Left the Floor

When I walked in the studio, it was significantly earlier than usual so the lady at the front desk was present to shoot me daggers.

"Class?" She demanded in that harsh tone of hers as if it gave her immense joy to rub in the fact that I didn't have an official class.

"The thing is..." I began with the most patronizing voice I could since there was no way it didn't get under her skin.

The chance to finish that sentence didn't come because Annie was doing that ballerina jumpy/running thing down the hallway to meet us.

"She's with me, Anastasia," she told the reception lady in a kind voice.

She must have liked Annie--how anyone couldn't was beyond me--because she waved us both past. Annie surprised me by grabbing my arm and pulling me with her to the empty room she must have just come from since a slow going ballet song was still playing.

"It's so good to see you again, Ari."

Annie looked right at home. I suppose that it shouldn't surprise me that she practically lived at the studio. In accordance with the ballerina that she was, Annie had the whole combination going: dark blue leotard, light blue tights, leg warmers a shade between the others, white ballet shoes, and a white sweater that was tied in the front to stay on. She even had a light blue flower tucked into her tight bun. I also supposed that it was not surprising that she wasn't alone. Scott must have been practicing with her. He had the same tights and ballet shoes on as the previous class but his chest was left shirtless and upon seeing me, he blushed pinker than his shoes upon me seeing his skinny, pale chest.

"We always practice in here," Annie was quickly explaining. "Just to work on lifts and our own stuff."

"Don't let me interrupt you then," I insisted. "I just had to get out of a peer pressured date. Please, continue."

I took a seat in front of the big wall mirror and pushed start on the CD player to get their music going for them.

It was beautiful, probably the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen. Scott started with Annie's legs around his waist and walked several steps carrying her like that--as if she was feather light. They went into the typical ballet pose with her up on her toes so Scott could lean her side to side, somehow without dropping her. The trust between them gave me the oddest desire to cry, and when he managed to lift her above his head with his hands only supporting her by the small of her back that urge got stronger. How? And the jumps when he danced across the floor away from her. And the final lift above his head again to walk, as they had started, off what would be the stage.

"What did you think?" Scott was quickly asking as if I was some ballet choreographer and knew significantly more than nothing about all this dance stuff.

"That was amazing!" I exclaimed. It was. It really, really was. As I was starting to learn, running races was easy; this dance stuff was hard. "I mean, how? That has got to be impossible."

"It's not that hard," Annie insisted. At the compliment, the volume of her voice took a nosedive and she was blushing like no tomorrow. "Just lots of practice."

"But doesn't that hurt?" I asked, "that ballet move?"

"Which one?" Scott asked to clarify with a frown and that expression again, as if my opinion was well informed enough to really judge them.

"This one?" Annie asked, she went up on her toes with the delicate arm motions, "or this?" She did what looked like the exact same thing to me.

"I don't know," I confessed. "Those look the exact same and still terribly impossible."