Miss Lucia’s dance studio was my second home. When I lived in New York City as a kid, I spent more time there than I did at my house. Every afternoon after school, I donned my pointe shoes and practiced until I got every pirouette, arabesque, grand jete, and chasse perfect. I bawled my eyes out for weeks when we moved away, and I never found a school I loved as much.
“I’ve missed you too,” she says. “What have you been up to these days? How’s the job at The Temple? I’ve been meaning to come and watch you perform.”
That would be a sight to see—Miss Lucia at a strip club. In her late sixties, she holds herself like the elite ballet dancer she was in her twenties. Head high, back straight, and a walk that makes her look like she’s gliding across a room. She’s too classy for a place like The Temple.
“Work is good. I don’t draw in the crowds like the strippers, but I still get good tips.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re wonderful. I can’t wait to watch you.” Miss Lucia is always my biggest cheerleader. With no judgement. It would be nice if my parents were more like her. “The reason I’m calling is to ask a favor of you if you have the time in your busy schedule.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“One of my teachers has gone on maternity leave, and I need to fill her position for a few months. She thought she’d be able to work until the end of the month, but she’s had some complications with the pregnancy and her doctor prescribed immediate rest. I’ve also cut back on classes—”
“Are you okay?” I stiffen with concern. It’s not like Miss Lucia to cut back on classes. She’s a machine.
“Si,si. I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. But I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“You’re not old. And you’ll be dancing forever.” Because that’s the way it’s meant to be. Sure, it’s impossible, but I have to keep her like that in my mind. She was the best part of my childhood. When my parents were demanding I dance to be the best, Miss Lucia told me to always dance from the heart.
She chuckles. “Tell that to my arthritic bones. Long days at the studio aren’t as easy as they were when I was young. It’s got me thinking about selling the studio.”
“Are you serious?” Oh, that’s a dagger to the heart.
“It’s just a thought. Nothing concrete. Anyway, I’m calling to ask if you’re interested and have time to cover ballet lessons a few afternoons a week?”
Any other time I’d do anything to help her out. I wish I could now. “I would love to say yes, but unfortunately, I’ve injured my ankle and don’t know when I can dance again.”
“Oh no. How serious?”
“I’ve sprained it. I need to keep off it. Possibly even get some treatment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What can I do? I know an amazing physiotherapist who has magical hands. I’ll send you her number.”
“That would be great, thanks. I’m sorry I can’t help. I can call some of my dance friends and see if I can find someone to help you,” I offer.
“Thank you, I’d appreciate that. Unless…” Miss Lucia is silent for a moment. “It might take some time to find someone right away, so in the meantime, if I give you a student teacher to help, could you conduct the lesson and critique the class while the helper performs the steps?”
I bite the side of my cuticle. “I’m not sure.”
“You can start off with the younger classes, so it won’t be too technical.”
Maybe it could work. Helping Miss Lucia sounds better than spending the next who knows how many weeks couped up in my apartment. “Okay, I’d love to do it.”
“Excellent. Thank you so much.”
“When would you like me to start?” I ask.
“Is tomorrow afternoon too soon? The first lesson starts at four PM. They’re seven, eight, and nine year old girls and boys who have done a couple of years of classes, so they know what they’re doing.”
That sounds easy enough. “I’ll see you then.”
“It will be like the old days when you used to teach classes for me. You had such a skill for teaching. The kids will love you.”
I hope so. It’s been a while, and I remember young students were a handful. I taught classes after school for pocket money. It was the best job in the world.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Miss Lucia says.
“Can’t wait!” I’m already looking forward to a new challenge. It will pass the time until my ankle is healed.
