Pointe Shoes

Always graceful. Always grateful. And 5, 6, 7, 8, pose!

      - Great job guys, that's New York City Ballet - Peter Martins, the master in chief, says after we finish rehearsing The Nutcracker grand pas de deux. I smile, relieved but feeling my abs sore as never before. I catch my bag and turn just in time to see Mr. Martins coming in my direction - Now, deep breath - we do it together - Relax, Zalya, you were chosen as a principal dancer for a reason. You've gone through all the stages to be where you are today and you are going to be dazzling tonight, okay?

      I thank him and head to the door. Being part of such a company is mind-blowing and I still can't believe I'll be dancing as a principal from now on. It's about 11 a.m. and as I think of food my abs burn again, but it isn't complaining about the food, it just hurts. It's nothing, right? I decide to go see a doctor just to check.

      I go through the usual hospital routine, give them my information, do the exams and wait for the doctor. I am called pretty fast actually. So, I walk into the doctor's office and sit.

      She looks at the results, then leaves for a while and comes back.

      - Zalya, right? - I nod, a little worried now - I'm really sorry to say this - she pauses, looking sorrowful at me - we've found that you have a very rare disease and...

      - What's the treatment? - I interrupt her, shaky as if I already know.

      - Zalya, you only have about 24 hours of life, there is no treatment - I get to my feet. I argue. I shout. I curse. Is this some joke?! As I sit again, breathless, she starts explaining again, but my mind goes blank, I hear nothing, my vision is blurred.

      I don't know or how it happens, but I leave her office and find myself on the sidewalk, the cool breeze brushing against my face. I walk for about three blocks and feel a water drop on my nose, then another one. Thunder. Rain. Pouring rain. I look for a place to shelter, nothing. After a few more steps I find a store and bolt inside.

       The store is decorated with Japanese lamps and plants. On the walls, shelves are filled with porcelain cups and teapots embellished with intricate details and paper boxes.

      - May I help you? - I jump and turn to see a tiny woman glancing at me with the cutest, most friendly smile ever. I say, nothing. - Are you alright dear? - and at that, I fall, metaphorically.

      - I am going to die in less than 24 hours and I have a performance tonight for the first time as a principal dancer and now it's going to be my last and I have no one to talk to because I've moved here when I was fourteen to pursue my dreams of becoming a ballerina and everything is falling apart! - the woman has her eyes wide at me, so I do the only sensible thing to do at times like this, I burst into tears.

       - Let's sit my dear - she takes me to one of the tables - I think you have come to the right tea store - she smiles. I look at her, confused - You need a miracle, and I think I might be able to help you - she proceeds to tell me the story of this magical ancient drink that saved her grandfather and many others from her home town - Unfortunately, everything has its price and for the drink to work you must trade it for your passion, and I think you know what's yours.

      - You mean I could never dance again? - she nods. I know magic doesn't exist, but this offer is sure tempting.

      I consider that for a few minutes and suddenly see myself dancing around the room after my first dance class at the age of only two. My first time on stage. My first pointe shoes. The daily workout. Staying home to practice. Leaving home to dance. Dancing to breath, to be free. Feeling the music. Listening to the applause.

      - I couldn't do it - I finally say - Dancing is not what I do for a living. I dance TO live. It's all I've ever done. It's not an option, it's the way and the destination that I trail on top of my pointe shoes. I live for the artistry. What's life worth when what moves you isn't there? - the woman goes to the counter and takes a flask.

      - I don't have the answer for that - she hands me the flask - But I'm sure you'll make the best decision - now she has that cute smile back - And I make my best decisions after eating! This is a tea store, but I do have food and it seems that you could use some company for lunch.

      I have to agree with her. I thank her and the food turns out to be delicious. We talk and laugh for a couple of hours before I leave when a customer arrives.

      The show is in two hours. I somehow manage to do my hair and makeup with shaky hands. I look at the flask again, then In the mirror, I see my reflection ready for the stage. The costume, the pointe shoes. I look at the flask again. I've made my decision.

      Tchaikovsky is being played in all its intensity and glory. Every note leading me to the final spin, the final jump, the big pose and with every step I feel happier and my heart pounds faster.

      The crowd gets on its feet and applauds louder and louder. I've never felt more alive. I walk to the front of the stage and bow. My life has led me to dance because dance is my life, and I wouldn't have done it any other way. As I raise my head, the spotlight focuses on me, its whiteness brightening so much it's blinding. With the light invading, I feel peaceful, I feel home.

Forever graceful. Forever grateful.