“Carly,” Barbara said a moment later, “she’s ready for you.”
Carly gave her a mute, nervous nod and stood.Here we go, she thought.Time to get fired.
Catherine stood as she entered, revealing the usual chic all-black outfit she wore on days when she wasn’t teaching company class. She gestured Carly toward one of several seats on the other side of the desk, then sat down. In Mr. K’s day, the desk had faced away from the floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked out over Lincoln Center Plaza and the grand white theater where the company performed, so that you couldn’t look at the man without remembering that he was in charge of everything that happened in that huge, impressive building. Catherine had turned the desk ninety degrees, so that you still got the view, but only if you looked for it. Carly didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want to think about the fact that her time on that stage was now so limited.
“Thanks for coming to see me,” Catherine smiled, once Carly had sat down.
Carly tried to match her smile but couldn’t quite manage it. Catherine had been a principal dancer at NYB until a few years ago, so Carly had known her for years, but it was still something of a surprise to see her in a sweater, slacks, and heels instead of a leotard, tights, and pointe shoes. She’d cut her hair to shoulder length since retiring, and she wore a little more makeup than she had when she’d been sweating at work all day long.
“Thanks for … asking me,” Carly returned weakly. Had she justthankedCatherine for firing her in person?
“How was the wedding?”
“Oh, it was fine,” Carly said, caught off guard. Were they going to engage in social small talk before Catherine lowered the ax? “Lovely, really. Heather is really happy down there, and it was a beautiful trip.”Except for the bit where the best man betrayed me and I found out I’m out of a job.
“Looks like a beautiful city,” Catherine nodded, “and you certainly made it look its best. The photos were fantastic, truly. A nice bit of positive press attention for NYB.”
“Uh, thanks?” Carly said. If the photos were so great and press attention was so positive, why wasn’t she getting promoted? Why was she getting fired?
“Like I said in my email, I want to talk to you about your future at the company,” Catherine started, and Carly steeled herself. It would be fine. She would be fine. She would make a new plan. One that didn’t involve Nick Jacobs’s “help.” And she’d be fine.
“As I’m sure you know, I didn’t have any experience running a ballet company before they gave me this job. I didn’t have any experience running any kind of company. I virtually went straight from being a principal dancer to being artistic director, in charge of this entire operation, with very little preparation and certainly no training beforehand.”
Carly nodded. What did this have to do with Carly’s contract?
“Obviously, I know the dancer’s experience inside and out, but there are so many other people who make the company run: ballet mistresses, choreographers, costume designers, doctors, lighting designers, sales, marketing, philanthropists, the board.” Her eyes widened, and she gave her head a little shake. “And that doesn’t include everything on the school side: dealing with teachers, and parents, and funders, and the list goes on. It’s so many things I had no idea how to do, and the learning curve has been extremely steep. I’m more than a year in and I still don’t truly feel I know how to do it all well.”
Carly nodded again, understanding even less why Catherine was telling her this. But she had no doubt it was all true: most companies picked their next artistic director out of the ranks of retiring principal dancers, and plenty of former NYB dancers were running companies around the country. If the board hadn’t picked Catherine for this role, Mr. K probably would have tapped some other dancer—like Jack, God forbid—who would have transitioned straight from dancing into directing with basically no way of knowing if he’d be any good at a completely different kind of job. Carly suppressed a shudder at the idea of Heather’s abusive, drunken ex being put in charge of her career and everyone else’s.
“All of this is to say, I’m very grateful to have this job, but I think the model is broken,” Catherine said. “Just because someone is a good dancer doesn’t mean they know how to run a company.”
“Okay …” Carly said, cautiously. She agreed, but she still didn’t understand what this had to do with her own job.
“As I’ve told you, I’ve decided not to promote you this season,” Catherine said gently.Ah, here it comes. “Instead, I’d like you to start shadowing me in this role. I’d like you to get a sense of what it requires and if it’s something you’d like to start work toward. When you’re ready to stop dancing, that is.”
Carly stared at her.
“So I’m not getting fired?” she blurted out.
Catherine frowned. “No, you’re not gettingfired. But none of us can dance forever, and I think you have a future at this company. There’s no way to know that until you’ve had some exposure to the job, of course. As I’ve said, it’s very different from being a dancer, and not the kind of thing anyone should do without preparation and some kind of training. So I’d like you to spend some of your time this season here with me. You’ll be paid for that time, of course. And if you enjoy the administrative and leadership side of the company, and think you’d like to do more of it, that’s a conversation we’ll have when you decide to stop performing.”
Relief knocked all the air out of Carly’s lungs. She still had a job. She was being offered the chance to explore another one. It was a future, a plan. A way to fend for herself after ballet.
“Is that something that interests you?” Catherine asked, after a moment.
“Yes,” Carly said quickly, giving her a shaky smile. “Yes, absolutely. But I have to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“I hope you understand that if I were to take this opportunity, or any role that came of it, it would be just me. Not my parents and their checkbook. I know that fundraising is a large part of running a company, but they haven’t given to NYB or the school in years, and I wouldn’t ask them to start giving again. Does that change things?”
Catherine shook her head slowly. “No, that’s not a problem.”
“You’re sure?” Carly pressed.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Catherine said, with a small, amused smile. “With all due respect to your parents, there are a lot of checkbooks in this city.”
Carly laughed. “I guess that’s true.” She fell silent for a moment.
