I moved to the music. Run over there, spin, and get up on your toes. Madame Garcia is just getting me started on pointe. I won't do any pointe solos yet, but this particular routine involves a lot of something close. It looks beautiful, but it's the hardest thing I've done.
"Get a little more altitude on the jump. Let's run through that again." I went back to my spot and practiced the jump again. I made sure to change my angle so that I would truly fly. "That's good. Now, relevé. Hold that position. Keep going." My feet screamed in pain; they started to waver underneath me. "A little more." I knew that my vocal teacher possessed incredible strength of mind. It is more important to be kind than to be strong, she said, while she went about her business despite being in pain that looked unbearable from the outside. A sudden pain shot up my calf and I fell. "That's enough for today. You should stay here and rest for at least an hour because of the amount of work you've done. I have food for you." Gladly, I obliged. I packed up my ballet slippers and, when I looked down at my feet, I saw that they were bleeding and blistered. Madame Garcia escorted me to another room with a refrigerator. Few dancers have this privilege, but I earned it by way of hard work.
After I did my stretches, she presented me with a plate of vegetables, crackers, cheese, and various cold cuts. I ate. Everything tasted good, but that could just be my hunger talking. I'll also have to practice my vocal showcase. Ever since Caitlin died, I never really felt like singing. However, that was going to change. I would sing remembering, not only what she directly taught me, but what she showed me by setting the example.
My phone rang. I checked it to see my new vocal teacher's phone number.
"Just reminding you that you should be here at 5:00."
"I might run a little late. I got some leg cramps during ballet and Madame Garcia wants me to rest." I massaged the strained area a bit more.
"Take as much time as you need. Ballet is not an easy thing to do."
"It isn't." I took another sip from my water bottle.
"Hey, by the way, I know you've experienced a lot of misfortune lately, so when you practice, I want you sell it to me."
"So...be the girl who sells misfortune?"
"You can put it that way."
(A/N: The first video is what the everyone else hears. The second is what Alex hears.)
There's a difference between *selling* misfortune and profiting *from/by* it.
ReplyDeleteAnd the example will make Alex's work extra powerful.
We have flowers of the family; why not flowers of misfortune?
There is a really cool storybook by Janna Willard called Releve.