Félicie was the first to wake up. In her own bed. That was confusing. She could have sworn she was watching Rudy dance just a few minutes ago. But sun was starting to spill in the room, a clear indication that morning was here. Meh, the boy must have carried her to Odette while she slept. She hoped it was a princess-style carry.
She was embarrassed when she discovered she was still wearing her skirt and leotard from yesterday. She would better change and put them back into the locker rooms… They were not hers after all. She tip-toed to Odette's part of the room, parted the heavy curtain a bit and observed the young woman's long braid and slowly rising stomach. She looked uncomfortable, although deeply asleep. Maybe she would appreciate some breakfast upon waking up? For once, Félicie could be the one bringing that up in their home. And she probably could drop the leotard on the way.
Her mind made up, she quickly changed into her own clothes, reminding herself on the way about retrieving her only other set of clothes in the locker room. She slid down the stairs as silently as she knew how to be, and after a quick detour for the clothes, she dashed joyfully towards the basement stairs. She always loved the kitchens, warm and lively. Well, everything was quite quiet at this hour, corridors were quite empty, but she knew the cook would already be up.
"Hi Emma!" Félicie exclaimed, erupting from behind the countertop.
The strong blond woman beating eggs barely jumped. The sound of a clarinet from behind a back door was distinct enough to be lulling and seemed to accompany her egg beating.
"Good morning Félicie," she answered in a deep voice, eyeing the young girl curiously. "Did you wake up before Odette?"
"That I did," the red-haired grinned. "I thought I could bring her breakfast for once. She really deserves it after yesterday."
"What happened yesterday?"
The woman seemed curious, and slightly worried as well. Félicie knew Odette and her had known each other for a long time, and every interaction she had witnessed between the two of them seemed to hint that they were actually friends.
"She walked the whole stage without her cane," she said seriously. "Which is… uh, a lot of space."
"She had lost it?"
"She chose to. I asked her why, she said 'because I am the captain of my soul'. I guess she liked the poem I read from her book," she murmured thoughtfully, before startling. "Ah! The book! I think I forgot it in Rudy's classroom."
"What book? I didn't know Odette had a book…" The woman muttered.
"Someone gave it to her yesterday morning, that was why she was late and didn't wake me up," Félicie said, before frowning. "How comes I wake up so early on a day with no morning classes, and I can't actually get up on time when there ARE classes?" she wondered aloud, outraged.
The blond woman laughed while heating some grease in a pan, cutting a fresh bread into pieces next to it.
"Oh, is that fresh bread? Can I have the chunk, please, pretty please?" Félicie implored, her eyes big and dramatic.
"You are a spoiled brat, you know that right?" The cook muttered, launching said chunk in her general direction.
"You are the best Emma, thanks!" Félicie answered, catching it easily, her mouth already opened with hunger.
Eggs were starting to fry, tea was infusing and toasts were getting covered in jam. Today seemed to be a Royal Breakfast, Félicie internally celebrated. Eggs, fresh toast and jam, what was better than that honestly?
"So, you know how to read then?" the blond cook teased her affectionately.
"Of course! Mother Superior gave us reading and writing class at the orphanage. But, uh… I may have missed a bit too many classes," Félicie muttered. "I can't get any sense into some of those poems from Odette's book."
"Who is the poet? Baudelaire?" Emma inquired while toasting a last piece of bread.
"No it's an English dude, uh, William Anli, or Enli… Enley?" Félicie tried before giving up in a shrug.
"An English poet…" Emma murmured, thoughtfully. "Well, I only know one person that would read English poetry and share it like it's a cure."
"A cure? What do you mean, a cure?" Félicie frowned.
"Don't mind me. Here, you can take this for the both of you," Emma said, handing a full plate to the girl. "Don't spill it, or no breakfast."
"Yes Madame," the girl saluted teasingly, grabbing it and a hot pot of tea. "Thank you very much and say hi to Marcus from me!" She added while slowly making her way towards the stairs.
"I will," the young woman murmured, her eyes turning towards the back of the kitchen, from which came the sound of the clarinet.
She slept in a bit. She wouldn't be late for work, that was for sure, but she wouldn't have time to go to the laundry room and clean some of her garments.
Her muscles felt like they would explode. There was in her knee and her hip a deep and regular jolt, a bit painful but mostly making her shake. It was not the intense pain she had when she fell down on her bad side sometimes, no, it was rather like her body was starting to learn how to work all over again. It reminded her of that far time in her life, when she was around five years old and learning dance for the first time. Her whole body ached and complained, but deep down, she felt a craving need. The need to do more.
She took her time to stretch on the wooden floor. She needed to look into the attic's forgotten props, in case there was a carpet hiding somewhere she could use. She was starting to get tired of splinters honestly.
She cleaned herself rapidly and efficiently from the water basin laid out on her makeshift dresser, brushed and tied her hair as usual. She heard the door closing in the living room before she smelt the freshly cooked eggs. Did Emma climb up? No, she never would have the time.
Félicie's face peaked between the curtains, and her smile was bright enough to light up the room.
"Morning! I got us breakfast!"
"Good morning," Odette answered, amused. "Did you raise with the lark?"
"I dunno," Félicie's head said with a slight pout, still hanging between the curtains. "I woke up feeling I had just slept for a few minutes but it was morning already… Did Rudy bring me back here?"
Odette finished fastening up her waistcoat before answering.
"Monsieur Mérante brought you up here while you were sleeping," she finally murmured, studying the increasingly worried face of her girl. "You really ought to say no to Rudy when you are too tired to train, you know," she added as an afterthought, before opening the curtain and stepping into the living room.
"Monsieur Mérante brought me up? Oh god, oh no, oh he must hate me, first I was late to his class, then I danced awfully at rehearsal on stage, and finally he had to carry me back here…!" Félicie whimpered, nervously pressing her hands against her chest.
"Félicie, it's okay," Odette murmured, slowly grabbing her shoulders in a comforting manner. "You will do better today. You have been very tired recently, what with the Nutcracker season barely ending, plus the very cold temperature… It will be okay, you will rebound. Listen to your body and trust yourself."
The girl nodded, before suddenly rushing to hug her timidly. Odette calmy hugged her back. The child had been doing that recently, when they were alone, randomly hugging her, taking her arm, lying right against her when they were both sitting side by side. Needing contact, of any kind, as if to fill what she lacked of before.
"Let's eat," the woman finally murmured, stroking affectionately the girl's hair. "Oh, you brought back the book. I was wondering where it was last night…"
"Yes!" Félicie exclaimed, immediately seating in front of the generous plate. "I had just left it in Rudy's classroom. I actually read another poem with him, and he tried making it sound romantic but really, he is exaggerating waaayyyy to much," she grimaced.
"I guess he does that," Odette laughed. "Can you read the poem to me then?"
"Yes!" the girl answered, plunging a spoon full of eggs in her mouth while looking for the right page. "Hmmm… Ah yesh, it'sh thish one!"
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Odette murmured, delicately chewing on a toast.
The girl gulped her food down and frowned over the book, concentrating.
"A wink from Hesper, falling fast in the wintry sky, comes through the even blue, dear, like a word from you… Is it good-bye?" The girl began. "Across the miles between us, I send you sigh for sigh. Good-Night, sweet friend, good-night: till life and all take flight, never good-bye."
They remained silent for a moment, then Félicie raised her eyes toward Odette, still frowning.
"It's weird, because it's shorter than the one we read on stage, yet it seems so much more complicated… I really don't get it," she admitted.
"Then it will be your duty today, to understand it," Odette answered calmly before coming to a standstill, listening onto something. "I have to go, I need to clean the hall before students arrive," she murmured, quickly drinking some tea on the way. "You don't have class this morning right?"
"No, there's rehearsal for the Corps de Ballet," Félicie answered, watching her quickly eat a bit of eggs before rising and getting her feet in her shoes.
"Alright, then here are your tasks: bring everything back to Emma, find some sense into that poem, and then come find me when you are done, we will train on the dancing part you did awfully yesterday, alright?" The thin woman listed before reaching for her cane.
"Yes Ma'am! Er, I can finish this right?" she added hesitantly.
"Save me a toast for when you come to me, you can eat the rest," the woman smiled before exiting. "See you later kid."
"Yes!" the girl whispered in triumph, before waving towards the door. "Byyyye!"
Louis Mérante was the Opéra staff member with the most unpredictable schedule. Sometimes, the Ballet Master seemed to have no care for social or personal life, and could spend long evenings or days in his classroom, probably dancing or choreographing. To avoid unexpected encounters with him, Odette had chosen to clean it at the very end of her daily scheduled routine.
She was thus not used to the light flooding in during the day from those large bay windows. She was not used to seeing him dancing either, which he was currently doing, his legs working on a delicate footwork including levés and pliés.
She had climbed those long stairs, but had stopped when her barely high enough eyes had spotted him, his back to her. He didn't have his usual coat on, and the sunlight made him look like some kind of angel, his white shirt reflecting all the light it could. Looking at him dancing, it made her heart clench with envy and admiration. He was still very much at the top of his shape, and clearly deserved that Ballet Master position.
"Can you come help me on something please?" He asked suddenly and she startled.
"Oh Louis, really, I am way too old for those complicated moves you know," a woman's voice sighted from the left.
Odette silently took another step, making sure she was still hidden, and inspected the middle-aged woman currently stretching.
"Come on, just a minute," he insisted, and she sighted again before complying. "Here, can you do this? Plié, pointé, pointé, sauté, arabesque, posing."
She executed and he hummed thoughtfully.
"No," he finally muttered. "It doesn't work."
"You will find it out, don't worry," the silver-haired lady affectionately patted his shoulder.
Odette knew her. She had been one of the new teachers from five years ago, arriving after the new Opéra construction was achieved, like Mérante. Madame Louise Rochefort, French ballerina, was a residing teacher at Milan for many years before deciding she should come back to her roots, to the school that had trained her. She was in charge of instructing the youngest classes, from five to twelve years old, as well as the general barre and centre everyday warm-up for all students and Troup members.
"What about one more pointé?" Mérante murmured while trying out his choreography.
She didn't know why he wanted to see her when she came here. Now, she was starting to have a feeling about it. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, reopened them and started climbing the stairs again. She would get to the end of this.
She let her cane slightly tap the ground soundly when she reached the top stair. Both dancers turned around and Louis Mérante immediately drew closer to her.
"Madame Odette. Thank you for coming," he said, his walk light and easy.
"Good morning Monsieur, Madame," Odette said, meeting his gaze steadily.
"Good morning, Madame," Madame Rochefort smiled amiably while joining Mérante's side.
"Yes, good morning," Louis Mérante nodded impatiently. "I believe you two have never met, right?" He asked, looking between them.
"We have seen each other around corners but never been really introduced, I believe," Madame Rochefort admitted, and Odette nodded silently.
"I see. Madame Odette, this is Madame Rochefort, she is one of the residing teachers here, she teaches the youngest children and the everyday warm-up," he introduced before turning to the woman. "Madame Odette was a ballerina here before a tragic incident robbed dancing from her. She has been taught for twelve years at the Opéra nonetheless, and as a former Prima Ballerina, she has strong knowledge of what the Opéra requires from students and dancers. You have seen Félicie Lebras' improvements in the last four months, right?"
"Yes, a tremendous progress," Madame Rochefort nodded, curiously studying Odette.
"Madame Odette taught her," he seemed immensely satisfied while saying that. "Prior to coming to the Opéra for the first time, which was five months ago, Félicie Lebras knew nothing of classical ballet."
Madame Rochefort seemed speechless for a few seconds, opening wide eyes, before she frowned, looking Louis Mérante closer in the eye.
"Are you serious Louis?" She murmured, before suddenly turning towards Odette. "Nothing at all? Really?"
"It is true," Odette admitted. "But she has a young body and a deep passion for dance. She worked really hard to achieve that result."
"Yes, yes," the other woman said, frowning. "But that's because you taught her, right?"
"Yes… She was still following Monsieur Mérante's classes though, she learnt with him too," Odette weakly tried to justify.
"That is truly impressive on your part, nonetheless," Louis Mérante countered, a smile on his lips.
"Thank you," Odette murmured, throwing an unsure glance towards him.
"Which is why I would like you to join the teaching staff of the Opéra," he added calmly. "Madame Rochefort is looking for an assistant, and you would fit the position perfectly."
"Indeed," the female teacher smiled.
Silence fell and Odette awkwardly shuffled her weight on her cane.
"You would be willing to take an assistant who cannot dance and can barely walk?" She ended questioning the other woman, her eyes studying her intently.
"My dear," Madame Rochefort began patiently. "There are a few things I have learnt as a teacher those last twenty-five years. Primo, a good dancer does not necessarily make a good dance teacher. And secondo, when you teach dance, you don't necessarily need to dance yourself. You mostly need to know what to watch and correct. You are giving dance, not using it," she explained caringly. "So yes, I would be willing to take you as my assistant, because you clearly have what is needed to be a good assistant."
Odette slightly bit her lip, and stole a quick glance at Louis Mérante. He was almost physically glowing, his eyes never leaving her.
"Well, in this case," she finally answered. "I would love to give it a try, under two specific conditions. One, if I do not feel comfortable, I would like to keep the possibility of going back to cleaning only."
"Of course," Mérante nodded.
"And two, I would like my first try to be in Félicie's class," she finished, a bit embarrassed to show how unsure she felt.
"This can be arranged," Madame Rochefort agreed. "I have a barre class with ten to fourteen years old tomorrow morning at 10 AM. Would that work?"
"Yes," Odette accepted, relieved.
"Fantastic," Mérante murmured, finally pulling his coveting eyes away from the cleaner to go retrieve his vest. "I will go warn our esteemed director that we should be looking for another cleaner then, and let you two discuss class details. Please Madame Odette, do come by Monsieur Vaucorbeil's office tonight, around 6 PM, he will have you sign a new employment contract. Have a good day ladies," he added as an afterthought.
His hand briefly laid on Odette's back as he was rounding her to take down the stairs. She didn't say a word, and didn't notice Madame Rochefort's raised eyebrow either.
"Well," the female teacher murmured once they were alone. "Always in a hurry that man, isn't he?"
Odette smiled timidly.
"Now come, I will talk you through what I expect on barre exercises from ten to fourteen years old," she added joyfully, aiming towards the barre.
"I think it's about having an intuition that something is happening to someone," Dora enunciated gravely.
"What?" Camille exclaimed from her silent stand on the side while Félicie declaimed her dense poetry to her friends. "Absolutely not. It's about two friends being separated by distance and one is wishing for the other's well-being, because they can't see each other."
"No, I really think something is fishy in this story," Nora muttered, deeply lost in her thoughts.
"Really?" Félicie whispered, looking between each girl with fascination.
"You are nut," Camille enunciated, resuming her stretching.
"I don't know, he did say something fell from the sky," the red-haired muttered. "Mother Superior told us quite a lot about signs from the sky at the orphanage…"
"Why are you here anyway?" Dora asked, aiming at Camille with an unfriendly stare.
"I am training because I am going to be the best ballerina of the Opéra Troup one day," the blond girl answered haughtily. "What are YOU doing here? Class doesn't start before 2 PM."
"I thought you had everything in your house to train," Nora observed astutely.
"We are here because we accompanied our younger brothers to their music lessons," Dora answered.
"How many are you in your family?" Camille muttered, grimacing, voluntarily avoiding Nora's question.
"Six, Papa, Mama, our twin brothers and us," Nora explained while finishing her bun.
"So annoying to be that many," the blond dancer commented, using the wall to work on her split.
"At the orphanage, there was one big room with all the kids in it. Before we left, there was twenty-six of us," Félicie said thoughtfully. "I'm so used to all the kids around, I think I would be lonely if I were to be totally on my own now. I'm glad I have Odette."
Silence fell and the twin sisters observed Camille pinching her lips, before exchanging a knowing look.
"Oh, man, Odette! I forgot I had to join her! Sorry, gotta go!" Félicie exclaimed suddenly horrified, rushing out of the room.
At 10 PM on Thursdays, she knew the woman was usually cleaning those empty classrooms in the dance wing first floor. She didn't take long to reach the only open one, and found her mother figure standing still in front of a barre, one hand on it and the other one raised on the side.
Félicie had to look twice before realising the woman was doing very slow pointes, her right leg obviously shaking.
"Odette?" Félicie murmured, both worried and fascinated.
The caretaker stopped abruptly and turned towards the young girl, bearing a guilty face.
"Are you… dancing?" The red-haired dared ask timidly.
"Not really," the woman shrugged. "Merely testing my limits… Don't sweat about it. I was expecting you an hour ago, kid," she added severely.
"I was thinking about the poem, sorry," Félicie said, still hesitant. "Are you sure you are ok? You look more sweaty than usual."
"Why thank you," ironically answered Odette, rolling her eyeballs. "I feel really pretty now."
"Well, you are beautiful, as usual," the girl shrugged. "But you look like you've been cleaning the main stairway twice in a row already. Let me help you and get some rest maybe?"
Odette remained a few seconds speechless as Félicie took her broom and began energetically sweeping all the dust straight through the opened windows.
"Did you get some sense into your poem?" The woman finally asked, slowly grabbing a brush to clean the floor as well.
It had been ten years since she had last heard someone say she was beautiful.
"Well, I asked Dora and Nora's opinions, but then Camille didn't agree with them so…"
"Camille is not training at home? What is she doing here at this hour," Odette murmured, more to herself than to her protégée.
"Maybe she is trying to escape her mom," Félicie suggested anyway. "That woman is a really scary witch."
Odette remained silent. She could still see Régine dancing on stage. Her flaming, angry eyes when Odette got the Prima Ballerina offering. Her rage after the fire. She had paid that rage to the hundredfold those last ten years, she knew that. She couldn't have avoided it, that was for sure.
"Maybe I should ask Rudy… He looks like the educated type of person," Félicie mused aloud.
"He certainly does," Odette admitted with amusement.
"But I can't ask him before barre lesson tomorrow, he told me he wouldn't be around today."
Silence.
"About your barre lesson," Odette finally said, eyeing the young girl carefully. "Something… unexpected, happened to me this morning."
"Really? What is it? Oh, oh, did you receive free food from Emma?" Félicie tried to guess.
"No," Odette cut her sternly, not reacting to her disappointed face. "I was offered to be Madame Rochefort's assistant."
"WHAT?" Félicie startled, almost dropping her broom out of the window. "You mean, dance assistant?"
"Yes."
"NEAT! Oh I'm so happy for you! Are you happy? Of course you must be, you won't be cleaning anymore, and you can actually help people dance better! Ha! That must be why you were dancing right now then?! Oh la la, I can't WAIT to see Dora and Nora's faces, they will be soooo surprised! They will also love you, I promise, they are really awesome you know!" Félicie sprouted without a break, completely enthralled.
"Calm down, Félicie," Odette murmured, a weird unpleasant feeling in the stomach.
She still didn't know if she was ready yet.
"You don't look happy," the red-haired frowned. "Why?"
"Well… Maybe you should try putting yourself in my shoes," Odette muttered, busying herself again with her brush. "Imagine you are a top dancer, and suddenly your body doesn't allow you to dance anymore, and you are expected to give dance lessons to younger dancers, that will probably wonder about how legit you are to train them, especially if you cannot demonstrate the technic… Of course, I'm worried."
Félicie thought for a few seconds, before a large smile broke on her face.
"But Odette… Isn't that what you did with me? And you taught me everything I know! You corrected each of my movements, and you used your hands when you wanted to demonstrate what my feet should do. So it will be fine right? You just have to do exactly the same with everyone else in class," the girl explained as if it was the most simple thing in the world.
"I certainly envy your optimism," Odette murmured with a weak smile.
"I wouldn't be here if you were not how you are, Odette," Félicie timidly said, smiling back. "You… I think you are wonderful, and I also think they will all love you like I do."
The woman blushed and threw a confused look at the red-haired girl.
"Well, what a morning," she finally answered to the declaration. "First you tell me I'm beautiful, then I'm wonderful… What did I do to deserve all that praising?" She smiled tenderly, raising a hand to brush the blushing girl's cheek.
"I… Well…"
At a loss for words, Félicie rushed her arms around the woman's neck, suddenly sniffling slightly.
"I'm just very happy for you," came her muffled voice. "Because… because I care for you."
Tenderness spread through Odette's body, and she hugged back.
"I'm glad," she murmured, gently stroking the girl's mane.
The day went by faster than expected. When Odette showed up in the Director's office at the appointed time, the man was alone. She carefully hid her disappointment about it. Auguste Vaucorbeil made quite a show about how glad he was that she had accepted the position, and insisted upon showing her the teachers' lounge, fortunately empty. She didn't have the heart to tell him she was well aware of the room, having had to clean it every day for the last ten years. She was just glad no one was in it to see her.
She needed more time to mentally prepare. It reminded her of her first dancing performances on stage, of how nervous she was before a public at first. It certainly didn't last though.
When she climbed the stairs back to the attic, after a quick stop by the kitchen to grab some leftover food discreetly, Félicie was already there, spread on a chair lazily. The girl smelt clean for once, which reminded Odette tomorrow morning was her own full cleaning day. She usually went to the laundry room at 5 AM, as she was certain no one would be around at this hour to witness her.
"A wink from Hesper, falling fast in the wintry sky, comes through the even blue, dear, like a word from you… Is it good-bye?" Félicie read aloud. "Across the miles between us, I send you sigh for sigh. Good-Night, sweet friend, good-night: till life and all take flight, never good-bye."
Odette raised an eyebrow as she lowered the book.
"I think I got it," the girl announced to her, her wet hair dripping on the floor. "I don't know if it is the truth, but I made my own story about that poem, and I really think it fits."
"I see," Odette murmured, grabbing an old towel on a cupboard and calmly indicating the child to sit on the chair in front of her. "Would you like to tell me?"
"Yes," Félicie nodded, lowering her head back between the careful hands. "I think it's the story of someone who is daydreaming, when suddenly, he sees something, maybe a cloud in the sky, and this something reminds him of a friend. It's like, when sometimes I go to the stage room, I see this old clockwork backstage, and it makes me think of Victor and the music box. At the orphanage, I always had this nightmare, regularly, and it seemed like a bad memory I couldn't remember. But Victor was always there to remind me it was only a dream."
"Can you hand me the brush please?" murmured Odette, listening carefully while treading her fingers through the girl's locks.
"Here," Félicie said. "So in the poem, the man has that kind of dream too, and he doesn't know either if it's good or bad, so in the end, he does like Victor did at the time. He said Goodnight after reassuring me, and not Goodbye, because nothing bad had actually happened, it was just a dream. And a good dream in the end."
Silence fell, the calm rhythm of Odette brushing the girl's hair seeming to slowly numb the child.
"Do you still have that dream now?" Odette asked.
"Sometimes. But I know what it really means now, so it's less scary," Félicie yawned.
"That's good," the woman murmured, finally letting go of her soft hair.
"Was it the right answer?" the red-haired asked sleepily, eyeing the woman undoing her own hair to brush it. "Was I right?"
"There is no right or wrong answers with poetry, Félicie," Odette said, brushing slowly her dark mass. "The poet certainly meant something when he wrote this, but you also found a meaning through his words, and that is as important as his original meaning. Poetry makes you think and feel at the same time, it is unique. If you keep thinking about the words, you will find new meanings every day."
Félicie harrumphed.
"It's true everyone had a different way of understanding it," she murmured, her eyes closing slowly. "What is your meaning, Odette?"
"I will tell you if you go to bed right now," she said, before disappearing behind the curtains.
When she came back, the child was buried in her bed, blinking furiously against sleep, determined to get her answer. The caretaker sat on the blanket and affectionately tucked it around Félicie.
"To me, the poem is about a promise of faithfulness. Yes, we are still friends. Yes, you are still important to me and I will not cut off any ties with you. It is important to renew that promise regularly, because sometimes, it is easy to forget about sustaining a relationship with what or who you love," Odette explained slowly, watching until Félicie's eyes completely closed.
She sighted softly when the kid's breathing starting to slow, and got up, aiming eagerly for her bed.
"Dance," Félicie's voice sighted, stopping her. "I promise dance."
Then she snored slightly, and Odette turned away, thinking.
She had made a promise like that, a long time ago. A promise to herself. A promise to always love dance. And she still loved it. But for ten years, she had not dared to dance. She had stayed away from that old, now unreachable joy. Was it goodbye now? Or could she still reach it? After all, she was still alive.
Odette slowly started to stretch. It would take time, it would hurt. But she wanted to try dancing again.
She was glad she was clean, it helped her grow confidence. She was standing next to Madame Rochefort, watching children entering and taking their spot at the barre. Teenagers, long and thin bodies. The Coryphées were last to arrive, barely getting out of Louis Mérante's class. That red hair and that smile helped appeasing the new assistant. Her grip on her cane lessened, and she allowed herself to breath more slowly. She could do it.
"Good morning class. Before we begin warming up, I would like to introduce my new assistant. Madame Odette will help me correct your posture, and will give you tips for a better chaining of steps. I expect from all of you as much respect for her as you would be giving me. Would you consider otherwise, you will be banned from my classroom. Am I clear, students?" Madame Rochefort enunciated with a pleasant smile.
"Yes, Madame Rochefort," the classroom murmured, eyeing Odette curiously.
"Very well. Let's begin then, first position, second, back to first, plié, tendu front, back to fifth, plié, tendu behind, back to fifth, plié, and all over again," the woman listed, using her hands to mimic the feet movements. "Thank you Edgard," she added as a signal to the pianist, who began a slow composition.
As one, all students began moving, legs swift and graceful. Odette took a minute to observe and list in her head. Those were the most experimented, those were the Coryphées, obviously the youngest and least experimented, those were the slow but careful ones, those were hot-headed and impatient to start 'real dancing', those were lofty and proud… She knew very easily how to read dancers. She had been watching all kinds of dancers since she was five.
"Use your arms, children! I'm here to see ballet dancers, not a military parade!" Madame Rochefort exclaimed.
Odette started moving after the third warm up exercise. She knew she had a good feel on the room now. It was time to muster her courage and start moving. Making her own place.
Madame Rochefort was mostly busy with the elder kids, so Odette naturally went next to the Coryphées first. Félicie's posture was alright, Camille's was impeccable, as usual. She began ushering advices to the other girls first, and they applied them immediately. Only when she reached those hot-headed thirteen years old did she began using her cane to adjust their bodies. Rudy was first, what with this terrible tendency he had to always dramatically widen his movements…
Exercises smoothly unfolded, and Odette lost track of time, concentrated on the students. They finished barre and went centre, working on pirouettes then on jumps. Before she realised it, it was 12 AM and class was over. Sweaty students poured out of the room with Madame Rochefort's goodbye, and Félicie had the decency to wait for all other kids to leave before jumping on Odette.
"You were Awesome!" The child whispered, her eyes looming above adoringly, her hands clutching the woman's. "Did you like it?"
Odette smiled and brushed some hair out of the girl's face. She heard Madame Rochefort grow closer behind her.
"Yes," she said softly. "But we will talk later okay? You should go change."
"Yeah sure," the red-haired agreed, before timidly bowing in front of her actual teacher and rushing out of the room.
"She is such a luminous child, isn't she?" Madame Rochefort murmured, her gaze grazing the closing door.
"She has a remarkable strength of mind," Odette admitted.
"Yes. I am glad you found each other," the woman nodded before smiling directly to her assistant. "So! Ready to continue?"
"Did I do what you needed from me?" the brunette countered.
"Certainly, Odette. Forgive my familiarity, but watching you give advices and correct postures, I felt like it was something natural. I wish I could have witnessed it sooner. Please, tell me you will continue assisting me," The teacher almost begged.
Odette blushed a bit but remained steady.
"I really enjoyed it," she finally answered. "I would like to continue indeed."
"Fantastic! I will see you at 5:30 PM then, to prepare for the Opéra Troup Barre and Centre end of day warm-up. Compreso?"
Odette nodded, bowed when the woman left the room, and almost dropped down to the floor as all tension left her. She was just realising how her right knee hurt. Well, she was in for some exercises then.
Félicie wasn't there when she reached the kitchen. Odette didn't usually eat at lunch, mostly to save up some money, even if Emma was always ready to spare her a few cooked goods. She didn't want to get her friend into trouble so most of the time, she would refuse it, arguing it would be more useful to the Troup. After all, Félicie and her were exceptionally lodged at the Opéra, only principal dancers were offered housing usually. Feeding on the Troup's meals would be pushing the boundaries a bit too much. She could at least pay for breakfast and dinner for both of them.
"Look at who it is. Our secretive little birdy," came a familiar amused voice.
Emma was sitting on a stool, her back to the wall, peeling potatoes without even looking at them.
"Secretive? How am I secretive?" Odette answered, amused, bringing a stool next to her to sit.
"Well, another little bird told me you had a book on English poetry," the cook mentioned, raising a brow towards her friend. "Why didn't you tell me you visited the good Doctor?"
"Oh! I forgot to tell you, everything has been so… busy, since yesterday morning," Odette sighted, enjoying the cool feeling of the wall against her back.
"So he is still alive, that small man?" Emma asked, her eyes never leaving the pot cooking.
"Alive and kicking. He came to the Nutcracker's last representation, on Monday, saw me on his pee break and asked to give me a check-in the next morning," she summed up.
"Ah yes, his small bladder. I remember," the cook laughed.
"He said I should be walking normally by now," Odette murmured. "I never tried to walk normally after the accident."
"What are you talking about?" Emma frowned, detaching her eyes from her pot to look at Odette. "I saw you for months trying to walk normally in the hospital courtyard."
"Yes, but I wasn't healed then. After I was out, after the Doctor gave me the cane, I never tried to walk normally again. I hurt for so long, why try to force it?"
"I see," the strong woman nodded, standing to take her pot out of the fire. "Well, it's never too late right?"
"I don't know," Odette murmured. "I feel… old. Used."
"And yet, you want to try it. Yes, I know you my friend," Emma smiled, eyeing her friend's slight blush. "Want a plate?"
"No, thank you. I think I will try to see the extent of my body strength. Maybe I could walk normally again. It will never give my younger, healthier body back to me, but maybe it could help me feel better," Odette said, resolutely standing and grabbing her cane. "Maybe it will even give some dance back to me."
"I am glad," Emma said, peacefully, before holding an apple to her. "You will need all the energy you can get. Please, take it."
"… Thank you, Emma. I am glad I have you to listen to my complaints and feed me," she smiled.
"And I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," the woman replied, suddenly straight to the eyes honest.
"You have largely paid back for that already, Emma," Odette countered.
"Yes. But now we are close friends. And close friends care for each other."
"Indeed, my friend."
Everything went both smoothly and very fast. Students and Troup's members got used to her guidance quite naturally. Also, a new cleaner was found, and Odette showed him the ropes of cleaning her part of the Opéra. It was strange, for her first few days, to find herself not busy or sweaty because of cleaning everything all the time. She was still quite busy with all those classes, and with Félicie's personal training (she had promised Mérante she would make her the best dancer after all).
But fortunately, she still had all the time she needed to stretch and exercise herself, at first in private, then… then Félicie intruded, as usual, and she had to spill the beans about her need to walk, but also to dance again, her belief that she could. The child was ecstatic and insisted to help her, to train with her. It was not easy, to have to show her weakened body in front of someone else, but she was glad in the end. Félicie became the most convinced of them both that she could do it, even though she had not tried to dance in ten years, and she was constant and generous in her praising. And Lord knew she needed that support… Each day she hurt, each day was a trial, each night she wanted to stop and give up. Each morning Félicie would remind her of her progress, and Odette would see the pride and determination in her eyes. It kept her afloat.
The child was also useful to keep an eye out for anyone prone to appear while Odette was training in their far away, barely used classroom. She missed only once, when Rosita Mori stumbled upon them both doing pointes at the barre (always on her left leg for Odette, she couldn't physically stay on the right one). The young woman had a soft smile and came straight to Odette, asking her very seriously for dancing advices.
It was at that moment Odette learnt about Swan Lake being the traditional show in preparation for next season.
"Madame Odette?" she heard the worried voice of Rosita calling her. "Are you okay? I am sorry, I thought Monsieur Mérante or Madame Rochefort would have told you about Swan Lake already…"
She had taken two deep breaths, eyes closed, granting herself a few seconds of flooding memories. Then she had closed the gate in her mind.
"They did not. But it is fine. What help can I give you Rosita?" She asked slowly, feeling Félicie's eyes worryingly jumping between them both.
"I… Forgive me, but I did some research. On why Swan Lake had not been played at Paris Opéra in a while," Rosita said, working up her own courage to ask.
Silence fell.
"Why?" Félicie finally asked, not bearing all that quietness.
"Because last time it was produced, I caught fire on the night of its first representation," Odette murmured.
"Indeed," Rosita whispered, while Félicie's eyes seemed to be about to jump out of their sockets. "And you were the Prima at the time, under Marie Taglioni's teaching."
"You are well informed," Odette answered placidly.
Rosita lowered her head timidly.
"Forgive me for bringing back such memories. I would not have done so if I knew you were not aware of Swan Lake," the Prima confessed guiltily.
"Well, now I know," Odette muttered, feeling her slippers getting heavier with each breath.
She needed her cane right now.
"I can come back later if you prefer," Rosita suggested.
"No," Odette sighted. "Don't be silly. I just... I need to sit."
Félicie jumped like a cannonball, and brought back a stool hanging in a corner. Slowly, Odette got down on it, Rosita and Félicie worryingly surveying her. She felt completely useless, as if all her energy had been burnt up by her memories, raising from deep inside of her, never to come back, she was sure of it.
"I am truly sorry."
Rosita Mauri looked terribly guilty, her head hanging low, nicking on her lower lip.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Odette said, raising her chin. "It is not you who should have warned me beforehand."
A timid smile lightened the young woman's face.
"What is it I can help you with then?" Odette added, after some seconds.
"I am going to dance the Swan Princess. I… I asked Madame Périssé about it, and Monsieur Mérante as well, and other teachers, but most of them gave me very superficial advices on how to treat Odette and Odile. When I found out you had learnt both yourself, and under Marie Taglioni's direction with that, I was… very hopeful. Because I am encountering trouble with Odile, and I thought, maybe you would know how to help me…?" The Prima finished, looking hopefully into Odette's eyes.
Félicie grabbed Odette's arm before she could answer. Her eyes were clouded. There wasn't a need for words, and the teacher slowly brought the girl's head to her. She was the one that needed contact this time… Darn that perceptive girl.
"It's funny," Odette finally murmured thoughtfully. "I loved Odile. I could dance her like the back of my hand… It's Odette that took so long to learn for me."
"Really?" Rosita gaped. "Oh dear, I would have never guessed."
"Really," Odette smiled weakly. "You can show me your Odile if you want, and I will try to help you the best I can. But first, you must promise me one thing, Rosita."
"Anything," the Prima resolutely answered.
"Whatever happens, you will never go on stage without proper fire-proof tutu."
Silence fell one last time.
"I swear on my dear mother's head," Rosita finally answered, her hand on her heart, her eyes frank and honest.
"Alright. Put your slippers on then."
"What makes you think you can dance again, my dear?"
The question was entirely sincere, especially coming from him. Doctor Toussaint was watching Odette curiously from above his glasses. She was slowly walking back and forth in his office, feeling the difference from a month ago, the way her body seemed more pliant, yet still very stiff unfortunately.
"I'm not delusional Doctor. I have made peace with the fact that I won't ever be able to dance like I used to. I just… want… to use my body. I liked using it once upon a time. I would like to reach its new limits and see if I am at peace with those," she tried to explain.
"I see," he murmured. "You have made remarkable progress in one month as well, I am very impressed Odette."
"I thought about quitting, several times. I thought I couldn't make it. But Félicie kept pushing me and I… I don't want to disappoint her," she confessed.
"Like any mother," he smiled. "Could you show me what you can do and cannot do in term of dancing?"
"You are not going to discourage me about danciting?" She answered, surprised.
"My dear, why would I? It has been ten years, your body is your own now, you can do whatever you want with it. And you are still quite young as well, so everything is possible," the man joyously said while watching her getting on her tip-toes.
She did a few low arabesques and pirouettes, only on her left leg, then tried a pointe on both her feet, but gave up quickly when her right leg began trembling tremendously.
"Your right knee is the problem," the doctor immediately noticed. "Maybe your right hip as well. Well, they were the deepest wounds after all. Can I see them please?"
She took off her underpants and raised her dress. The burn had left ugly traces from her right ankle to her stomach, all places in contact with the tutu that so suddenly caught fire. Her skin in some places, showed off a patchwork of darker or redder skin among the whites and yellows. Emma once laughed that a painter would love to use her as his pallet.
"It is because of the scars' thickness," Doctor Toussaint murmured thoughtfully. "You have healed really well, especially after the third surgery and the grafts test, but your skin seems to have repaired itself in a thicker way around your knee and besides your right hip. It confirms the theory that skin really cannot repair itself when the burn is too deep…"
"Can I do something to make it more flexible despite its thickness?"
"There could be solutions. Another surgery would be one of them, maybe if we have the opportunity, to use grafts again…?" He stopped when he saw her livid face. "Or maybe not surgery. Maybe local treatment to loosen and stretch the skin? I know of creams that could help, but they would be expensive…"
"I have been saving to rent my own place with Félicie," Odette murmured. "Maybe I could try those creams for some days and see if I can afford it with that money… But it is not my decision only."
"I will give you a prescription for a whole year, so you can make your own choice whenever you want," the doctor said, trotting to his desk to write down a few words. "Unfortunately my dear, I do not have better to offer you for now, but I will have a look at oriental medicine, some Chinese doctors brought really interesting techniques from their part of the world some months ago…" He added more to himself.
"Thank you, Doctor."
"It is my pleasure, my dear, truly. Seeing you suddenly trying to make peace with your body… It is something I hoped to see years ago," he laughed while handing her the paper.
"My mind was not ready for it years ago. I am not even sure I am ready now…" Odette sighted while adjusting her clothes back. "There are people… people who believe in me. Did I tell you I was offered an assistant position at the Opéra? I am not cleaning anymore."
"I am glad to hear that. Your body will be thankful of such less stress too," the doctor approved.
"Yes. I have been feeling it in the last few months. I feel energised, and I have time to train myself… I am really thankful. I hope I will be able to keep up with theirs expectations," she confessed, crossing her arms in a protective manner.
"My dear, it is not people's expectations you must fulfil. You have set your own goal, your own training. If you keep making progress with it and discovering new things you can do with each day passing, you will feel stronger, and that strength will radiate on everyone around you. I can already see some rays coming from you as we speak. You are not the same person as that young woman I saw cleaning the hall of the Opéra, one month ago. I know you can see it too. Keep the faith, keep your friends and your family close by, and you will shine again my dear," the good doctor lectured her kindly.
"I owe you a lot, Doctor."
"Don't be silly," the man smiled. "You owe yourself more than you owe me."