He felt a fool in white tights and the thin Capezio slippers.
Zoritch walked around him, inspecting his body from all angles as though he was a sculpture.
“Turn out your leg, like so,” said Zoritch. “And arms thus.”
He did as directed, watched the mirror as the master studied him.
“You want my opinion, then?” said Zoritch.
“Please.”
“You have an ideal physique for ballet, but at eighteen you are far too old. Boys at the Kirov start when they are five, six. Physical attributes, yes. But the mental toughness? It is doubtful.”
It was the perfect thing to tell him.
This is a true story.
Such a good [true] story. For some reason some lines from Harry Chapin’s, “Taxi” came to mind (edited for context):
“Well, another man might have been angry
And another man might have been hurt
But another man never would have let [ballet] go
I [dropped my dream in the dirt.]”
If it was the perfect thing to tell him, maybe it is what he wanted to hear?
Felt the writer in the story, so much between the lines… beautifully written. Sad, perfect in its gaps. Leaves one wanting the best for him.
Ah! Yes! Well done!
Sometimes things work out just as they should. Nicely done.
Was that “mental toughness” comment tossed down as a challenge? It was just what he needed. . . .to succeed? Or to give up? Nice job of leaving us to figure out what happens next.
What’s meant to be will be. Well penned.
Love ballet, hate what they do to the performers – lifestyle, treatment, menial pay.
They’d do better playing sports!
Randy
Sounds like my wife, just tell her she can’t do something and she’ll move heaven and Earth to prove she can. 🙂 Great story.
-David