COUGHTRY 23
Leslie A. Coughtry
Professor Ersinghaus
Creative Writing
25 April 2017
The Value of the Hair Sticks
The life of a prima ballerina is one of dedication, loneliness, obsession, beauty, creativity, precision, and isolation. There are many qualities inherent in the title itself, just the word “prima”. When the moment happens that the music and the art come together and capture the talented artist, he or she knows in that instant, that “this” is what they live for… nothing else matters.
Sophia learned at a very early age that if she worked very hard and learned everything that was expected of her that the rewards would be plenty. She was the only child born to her immigrant parents who came to the United States (Brooklyn, New York), just five years before Sophia had been born. She was told by her teachers that she had a perfect body physique to be a ballerina. With her long, thick, wavy, auburn hair pulled up into a knot, Sophia, an ordinary girl by most standards, could be made up beautifully to carry out the drama that her body was conveying to the audience.
Sophia’s Father, Saul Hietzman, was a hard-working man, short in stature, with ruddy skin, and piercing brown eyes. He was balding on top; Sophia always believed his story about how he had lost his hair one day when he took his hat off, which he never went out without. From his extensive business experience in “the old country” as he called Germany, he knew the in’s and out’s of the garment industry, and Sophia realized his moral and ethical behavior early on. Saul was as sharp today at fifty-four as he was when he graduated from law school, although if anyone asked him he would be glad to tell them he was much more tired. Carmen, Sophia’s Mother, just turning forty, showed signs of stress in her face; she tells of how she still stays awake nights, still worrying about their flight and safety, even though they had left that terribly painful life almost seventeen years before. Somewhat hunched over when she stood up, Carmen suffered from the residual effects of a fall when she was younger. She wore her long, chestnut brown hair with golden highlights and a few grays here and there, gathered, twisted, and secured with two beautiful sticks painted in a soft black and gold, and adorned with beautiful jewels. Her Mother had given her the sticks the last time she saw her, just before she and Saul left Germany; they had been her Mother’s. The hair sticks were a gift that she wanted to pass down to Sophia and her daughter, and she promised Sophia that she could wear them when she danced as a prima ballerina someday. Carmen was an extremely hard worker, a seamstress, whose specialty was beadwork. She and Saul arrived in the states and set up her business in one corner of their two-room flat. Saul took samples of her work around the area, and within a few weeks she was inundated with orders; she made dresses, skirts, scarves, babies’ outfits, linens and special requests. She was fast in her creative work, and could take some of the work with her to do when not in her “office”. From his business sense and their dedication, Saul quickly built a garment business with a team of dressmakers. Within a short time Saks took on their line and their business took off.
Saul and Carmen were thrilled when their daughter was born, and they wanted to give her all of the privileges and niceties that they had never had growing up in Nazi Germany. Sophia started dance lessons at three years old, when they bought her the first pair of pink satin toe shoes. They were more of a symbol to Sophia; she knew at the young age of five that she wanted to be a prima ballerina. She began taking jazz, tap, and gymnastics, but her passion grew to be ballet. At seven years old she auditioned for the Nutcracker’s Suite, and won a part.
Saul and Carmen bought a house in New Rochelle, New York when Sophia entered school so that she could have her own bedroom, and they could set up a small dance studio in the basement for Sophia to practice her craft. At eleven years old, Sophia wanted to take the train by herself, to her lessons in Manhattan, but her Mother would not hear of it; Sophia was not old enough. It wasn’t that she wasn’t becoming more mature, but the dangers of a young girl in the city by herself were too great for her parents to allow this. Carmen had flashbacks of her life in Nazi Germany as a young girl, always watching where she was going and who was around her. It had been a terrible time for her as she saw the Nazi’s take her uncles and father, and kill one of her cousins because he stood up to them. Her life had been to hide and always be on guard. She wanted to bring her mother to the United States when she and Saul came, but because of her ailing health, her aunts said it was better she stay with them.
Carmen brought Sophia to her lessons on the train, and would take along some of her handiwork to do as she watched her daughter. The studio even gave her a small space where she could set up and work. Sophia wanted to stay later and later; her Mother felt it right for them to leave after her lesson and two additional hours of practice. She had to make dinner for her husband when they got home. Saul was patient, but as he grew sleepy, he grew worried when the two that he lived for, were not home from the city.
At thirteen, Sophia and a friend, Jennifer, also a student at the studio, finally came up with a plan that their parents agreed to, allowing them to take the train themselves, as long as they promised to be home by 6:00. The conductor kept a special eye out for them, even making sure that they were on the six o’clock train back to New Rochelle. She was never allowed to go into the city alone. Her father would be waiting at the station to bring the girls home. In the summer and on school vacations, she often went into the city just to practice, she loved the atmosphere and the feeling of being immersed in what she called “her art”, and being around professionals that she felt would help advance her towards the goal: to wear the hair sticks and her pink satin toe shoes as a prima ballerina.
Her parents worked hard to afford Sophia’s lessons and to take her to some of the major ballets around the country and abroad. As Sophia grew from a young child with big dreams into a young woman with an obsession to become a prima ballerina, her parents, especially her mother, saw their sweet young child emerge into a moody, at times verbally-abusive young woman. Her mother tried to approach Sophia about how many hours she was spending in the city practicing. She also was concerned at the amount of food that Sophia was not eating; it was obvious that she was losing weight. Each time her mother broached the topic of her getting enough rest and enough nourishment to feed her growing body, Sophia would begin a tantrum of yelling at her.
“It is none of your business how much food I eat. When I am a prima ballerina, you’ll see all the practice was worth it! All the auditions we are doing at the studio will finally prove it. You’ll see. I will one day be in the ballet. You’ll be in the audience and when I am lifted up and spun around, you will see that I was right in practicing every second I could. You’ll see.”
“Sophia, I know you are practicing to meet your goal, but you need to give your body nutrition and…” she is cut off by Sophia.
“Mom, please, you just don’t understand any of this. I eat. I go to school. I practice. Repeat! I eat. I go to school. I practice. Repeat. Dance is my life!”
“O.k. Sophia, please don’t get upset and yell. Your Father is resting and he worries when he hears you so upset. Please just eat some some fruit then.”
Sophia grabbed an apple and a banana, got up from the table in a huff, and told her Mother she was going to do her homework. What she did not tell her Mother, or anyone else, was how blistered and bloody her feet were. She had been told by other dancers how to wrap her feet while she danced, but her feet were bleeding now and she was using more bandages and tape. She thought as she got into the warm tub to soak her tired body as well as her feet, “Oh, tomorrow I’ll ask Fredricka what the best way is to bandage my feet. She will tell me without making a big deal out of it.” She laid back in the tub and put a wet folded washcloth over her eyes. She wondered what she could take to ease the pain, aspirin just wasn’t doing it. She would ask Fredricka…tomorrow…it would be fine tomorrow.
At school the next day, Sophia sought out Fredrika, a senior dancer at the studio, and asked her if she could speak to her when they were alone, perhaps at lunchbreak. So at lunchtime the two met outside the café.
“Thanks for coming out. I have a couple blisters on my foot. What should I get to cover them? And what can I get for pain?”
Fredricka was anxious to help her. “We use cut gauze pads from the apothecary. You can get some medical cream if they are bad? Do you want me to help you?”
Sophia was quick to say, “Oh, I can do it. But thanks you are a real friend. What about pain?”
“Well, you can use aspirin but it really does nothing. Most of us go to this guy in the city that will give you anything you want to get rid of the pain. He’ll give you these opioid pills if he thinks the pain is bad enough and you’ve tried the standard over-the-counter stuff.”
“How do I get an appointment to see him?”
“I can get you in. He only takes cash and it is 75 dollars each visit.”
“Where do I get that much money? Even if I miss all my lessons, it would take me three weeks to come up with that much!”
“You just have to come up with the first 75 and the cost of the pills t the apothecary. After that if you sell a few, you can pay that way.”
“O.K. Make the appointment, I’ll get the money somehow. Thanks Fredricka.”
“Sure, anything to help a fellow up and coming prima.”
A few days later, Sophia saw Fredricka and they went to the doctor’s appointment, she paid the 75 in cash, and in exchange got a prescription for 120 opioid pills. They went to the apothecary that Fredricka told her they all went to, filled the prescription, and then she went home to take one and get some relief. On the way home, Fredricka asked Sophia, “How did you get the money?”
“Oh, my Father gave it to me; I told him I needed money for clothes I saw in the city. He was happy to give it to me.”
“Well, take the pills as he says, then you won’t have any problems with them. Make sure that you eat something like a saltless cracker so it doesn’t upset your stomach.”
“I will be sure to. Thanks again. See you at school.”
“Yeh, I can’t wait ‘til summer break!”
Back at rehearsal at the studio, Sophia was greeted with some of the girls congratulating her; she had been chosen by the directors of Chicago Ballet’s Swan Lake to perform as a prima ballerina. She screamed with excitement and ran to her Teacher.
“Is it true? Is it true? You have to tell me.”
“Yes Sophia. You won your spot! I am so proud of you. Come here let me give you a hug!” He hugged her extremely thin body; even he thought she was really quite thin. “Now, there are a few things you need to do. You need to have your parents sign these forms. The first is a form to permit you to be in the ballet; then there is a permission slip for you to live in the Chicago ballet’s apartment housing. The production will provide your room and board. Some of the older girls will be assigned to you as your big-sister while you are there. You will get a $20.00 stipend for food and transportation weekly. You also get a $50.00 stipend for ballet shoes and stockings; you will buy those at a local store that will fit them. Your Parents are welcome to come and help set you up.” But that was the last thing Sophia wanted. She wanted to be in charge of her own life, not having to deal with her parents telling her to eat, to rest, get some sleep, “etcetera!” she yelled out, as if in a conversation with her Mother.
“Have your parents look over everything, give me a call if they want to, or just come in. They will sign the paperwork, and we can begin planning things. It sounds so wonderful for you, Sophia.”
“Well, thanks for the news! My parents are gonna freak!!!” Sophia just stayed for her lesson. She ran to take the next earliest train, Jennifer stayed behind; she called her Mother to get a ride from the train and to call Sophia’s Dad to pick her up at the station. Sophia bounded down the escalator almost knocking a little girl down.” Sorry!” she yelled as she ran through the halls to the train track. She just made it in time. She ran down the aisle of the train and found a window seat; she practically fell into the seat. She was free; finally she would be free. The train finally pulled into the station and Sophia’s Dad was waiting for her. She ran over to him and jumped onto him, wrapping her long legs around him. He was startled, not because of her gymnast move, but because he could feel the bones in her pelvis as he held her up. He did not remember her having been so thin.
“Oh, Daddy, I made it! I made it!”
“You made it? You made what?”
“I made the cut. I am going to be a prima ballerina!”
“Sophia that is just wonderful, darling! Let’s get home and tell Mommy,” not really knowing what that was all about.
They drove into the driveway of their blue Cape with black shutters. Sophia jumped out of the car and ran into the house calling: “Mom, Mommy, Mom where are you?”
Carmen was in the kitchen making their dinner. Sophia ran in, gave her Mother a kiss, and said, “Mommy you have to hear this! Sit down, Daddy’s coming. Daddy, hurry!”
“O.K. I’m here. Go ahead Sophia.”
Sophia would have stood on the table if her Mother would have let her. “O.K. Mom and Dad, I have been accepted as a prima ballerina in Chicago! See Mom, this is it!”