"Very graceful young lady," Charles
commented. I was beginning to wonder if Celine was right. Maybe I could be a dancer.
"Yes, she is," Celine said, her eyes shining with excitement. "How do those feel, Janet? Remember, I want you to think of them as a second skin."
"Good, I guess," I said. I really wasn't sure. I had never worn this kind of shoe before, and I didn't know how they should feel.
"Those have Toe-Flo," Charles remarked, "the best stuff ever invented for padding."
"I don't want her to become too dependent on that. I want her feet to toughen quickly." Celine's eyes darkened.
"Oh, they will," he promised.
"We'll see. We'll take them," she concluded.
"Very good choice, Mrs. Delorice," Charles said and I could almost see the dollar signs floating through his mind.
I sat and began to take the shoes off.
"We have to have the best so we can develop quickly," Celine said. She smiled at me and stroked my hair. "We're going to become prima ballerinas."
I looked at Sanford, who stood near the doorway. Again, I caught him wearing an expression of very deep concern, his eyes dark and concentrated on Celine. Then he saw me gazing at him and he smiled quickly.
After the shoes were purchased, we went to a store that sold the dancing costumes, called tutus, and leotards. Celine bought me a half dozen outfits, and this was only the beginning of what soon became a shopping frenzy. We went to the department store and flew through the lingerie department, shoe department, and then the clothing department. The registers clicked and dinged, printing out reels of receipts. It was as if all the clothing I should have had since birth was being bought now. In one day I was catching up with children who hadn't been orphans. I barely had time to take a breath before I was being herded into another section of the store, measured, fitted, and dressed to model whatever Celine thought might look nice. Price tags didn't seem to matter. She never looked at a single one, nor did she blink an eye when the totals were rung up. All she did was hold her hand out to Sanford, who produced his credit card.
Just a day before, I had thought of myself as an object of charity, cast off, living as a child of the state, without parents, without family, without, anyone really caring if I looked nice or felt comfortable in my clothing and shoes. Suddenly, I was a little princess. Who could blame me for being afraid that I would blink and be back at the orphanage, waking from a dream?
Almost as if it pained her, Celine reluctantly agreed to stop for lunch. Sanford took us to a nice restaurant and told me I could order whatever I wanted from the menu, but Celine intercepted immediately and forbade me from ordering a big juicy hamburger.
"Choose a salad," she said. "You have to watch your fat content now."
"She's growing," Sanford said softly. "She'll burn off any calories, Celine."
"It's not what she'll burn off that's important. It's development of good habits, Sanford. Please. I know what I'm doing. I was the one who trained, not you. And I don't want to hear about you spoiling her when I'm not with you, Sanford," she said, warning him with her eyes wide.
He looked at me and laughed, but it was a weak laugh, a laugh of embarrassment.
"I like salads," I said to stop any more arguments.
"There, you see. She has a natural proclivity to do the right thing. It's in her nature. She's instinctive, just as I was, Sanford. She's me. She understands," she said, smiling at me. As much as it made me uncomfortable, I knew I could easily please her. I just had to agree to go along with anything she said. I think I was beginning to understand why Sanford looked so grim all the time.
Sanford wanted us to share dessert, but Celine refused.
"She can have something after dinner tonight," she compromised and we were off again, this time to buy toiletries Celine decided I would need.
"I want you to take special care of your hair, Janet. Your complexion, your looks are very important. You're a performer, an artist, a living, natural work of art yourself. That's how I was taught to think and believe and that's how I want you to think," she declared.
When we were in that section of the store, she pulled me aside so Sanford wasn't able to hear us. "Have you had your period yet?" she asked.
"No," I answered softly. It embarrassed me to admit it because all the girls I knew who were my age and even some a year younger had already had their first period.
Celine looked intently at me a moment. Then she nodded.
"Nevertheless, we'll be prepared for it," she said, and bought what I would need.
By the time we left the business district and headed for Sanford's glass factory, I was getting tired. Celine, however, continued to look energized. She talked and talked about my ballet lessons, preparing me for my first session with Madame Malisorf.
"A ballet class is a carefully graded sequence of exercises lasting at least an hour and a half, Janet. You'll begin with stretching and warming-up exercises using the bane. Madame Malisorf likes to spend nearly an hour doing that. Next, you'll move to the center of the studio to work without support. This second part of the class we-call adage. It consists of slow work emphasizing sustaining positions and balance. The third part of the class is called allegro, and that consists of fast work, combinations, sequences of steps with the big jumps and turns that make ballet impressive. Can you remember all that, Janet? Madame Malisorf will be happy if you do." It was clear from her tone of voice that I should memorize what she'd said