The Old Brown Suitcase Read Free Page A

Fleuri has chosen me to dance a solo in the ballet’s annual gala at the Grand Theatre of Warsaw. I will dance the “Oberek,” a Polish national dance. It is very fast and I love it. You have to dance many different steps and pivot and hop from one foot to the other. Madame Fleuri has explained the theme. It will be a garden where butterflies, birds, flowers and other garden things will dance to celebrate life. So I must get a costume made, and it will be in the style of my favourite flower. That doesn’t take any time to decide. I love sunflowers best.
    Mother and I take a
dorozhka
on our way to the dressmaker. It’s a carriage driven by a horse. We can watch the streets and the people, and the clopping of the horse’s hooves along the pavement sounds like a musical instrument. The driver wears a navy-blue dash cap. He has red cheeks and a long whip. I love the
dorozhka.
    We are bringing packages of materials for my costume. We ride for a long time across the city and finally through a part of Warsaw that is not as pretty as my own Aleje Jerozolimskie. Finally we arrive. Mother gives the driver a few coins and tells him to wait.
    We enter a building and go through a corridor into the courtyard, then down the stairs into an apartment. A woman greets us, smiling and bowing to Mother. Her apartment is dark and shabby. Mother hands the woman our parcels and the woman opens them.
    Out come clouds of green satin and golden tulle, and suddenly the room is no longer dark or shabby.
    “We need a ballet dress with a green bodice, a skirt of gold petals, a gold-petalled hat and green satin leggings,” instructs Mother. The dressmaker makes a sketch. How can she make all that? I wonder excitedly. On the way out, the dressmaker assures us that the dress will be ready within a week. And she keeps her word.
    On the day of the dress rehearsal I put on my costume. It’s like a cloud, a burst of golden petals on a green stem. All my classmates clap in praise, and even Madame Fleuri comments, “
Très, très jolie, Mademoiselle Lenska.
”
    On the evening of the performance, I am so excited I cannot think of anything else. Father drops me off backstage and kisses me for good luck.
    My classmates are magically transformed. There is Ola the swan, Felix the bird, Joanna the butterfly and many more flowers. There is even a big red strawberry, a blueberry and a raspberry. The stage is set with green trees and grass. With only half an hour left before the performance, I can feel goose bumps all over.
    Madame Fleuri, dressed in black, her grey hair tied up in a knot on top of her head, lines us up. We enter the stage in order of performance, and sit down on the grassy floor, forming a background for the dancers.
    The orchestra below the stage is making musical sounds, but the great curtain is still closed. Then all is still. Madame Fleuri reminds me that I go on first.
    The orchestra starts playing, and the curtain slowly opens to loud clapping from the darkened theatre. I get up, but my feet feel like stones. The stage lights are blinding. I run up to centre stage and pause. Should I dance in this garden for the other flowers and creatures, or should I dance for the dark mass that I can barely see? My decision is swift. The music of the Oberek begins. I dance, and forget all about the performance, my fear and blinding lights. I fly with the music as it swells the air. I can barely stop with the music, and I make my bow, just as we rehearsed it.
    There is a strange hush in the theatre. None of my classmates are clapping. Do they not like my dancing?
    Madame Fleuri comes up the stage and asks me to dance again, this time facing the audience. I am embarrassed. What have I done? I turn around and all of a sudden there is thunderous clapping and laughter coming from the dark pit below. I want to run off the stage but my feet won’t move. Yet I must dance again, I must. The Oberek theme begins once more, but this time my dancing feels different.