“Of course,” said Herr Tarangolian. “But where do you want to begin? The domestic circumstances in this case are a lot more difficult than you suspect … And don’t you say yourself that children cannot and should not be spared anything?”
“My God, Coco, how thick you are today! An everlasting kindergarten is not my notion of an ideal world. Of course they should grow up. But in a different way.”
“Don’t you think that a good portion of the unhappiness we see here is because too much is being demanded, Fiokla Ignatieva?” asked Herr Tarangolian. “Excuse me, but surely you see the pain in her eyes each time you criticize.”
“You’re confusing cause and effect, my dear — just like everyone else. I can’t do anything to help you, but I have to do something so she doesn’t make the same mistake.” She turned to Tanya and looked her over from head to toe. “Believe me, Coco,” she said, nervously inhaling, “there is no other cure than this. I know exactly why I have my children dance. I assure you, it’s not just fun and games.”
“I know, my dear,” said the prefect. “I truly admire you. You know that.”
“I know you do. But you don’t believe me. Even though we’re true soul mates, you and I. You wouldn’t be such a good prefect if you weren’t so musically — or should I say, dancerly — inclined.”
“Aha,” laughed Herr Tarangolian. “You flatter me too much. My job might be better compared to belly dancing than to your harmonious choreographies.”
“In any case, it’s a question of hearing — of hearing that goes down to the blood and bones.”
“Very beautifully put. That’s what I do: I bend my bones to the harmony of my sphere.”
“Now don’t go senile on me, my dear Coco,” Madame Aritonovich said drily. “You’re getting sentimental. But I suspect you’re simply being insincere — and always have been. You enjoy the tune you dance to, don’t try and pretend with me!” She turned back to Tanya. “Come, Tanya, once more, all by yourself. All the others to the barre!”
The person clearly most bored by the constant repetition was Solly Brill.
“As far as I’m concerned you can take all this jumping up and down and stick it in a pipe,” he said. “Anyway, I like soccer better. But this? Nothing but shmontses. Too much aesthetics and not enough athletics. From the pedagogical point of view, the whole thing is off target. What does it have to do with here and now? D’you hear about the game on shabbes afternoon? Makkabi over Jahn? Did they take a tanning or what? Seven to three — a nice embarrassment for the swastiklers. And then they wanted to get fresh on top of that. So they paid for it with a couple of teeth. Then they wanted to get at the referee. But he gave Strobel — that’s the center for Jahn — such a blow it laid him out. And meanwhile the guy was one of them. Next Sunday it’s Makkabi against Mircea Doboş. Well, I’m excited … And what are we doing?” he finished, morose. “Hopping around on our tiptoes in a hooped skirt. Am I some kind of dying swan or what? The whole thing is nothing but shmontses.”
Then, one morning, Tanya had a breakdown. She fainted for a very brief moment, and had already come to by the time anyone could help her. She smiled, a little embarrassed and confused, but it was a smile — and we hadn’t seen her smile in weeks. Then she said quietly: “It’s nothing, I’m fine, I can keep dancing.”
“Did you hurt yourself?” asked Madame Aritonovich. “Let me see you move your feet. Nothing hurts?”
“No,” said Tanya. “Please, may I continue right now? And from the beginning, if that’s all right?”
Madame Aritonovich helped her to her feet, face-to-face, and looked her in the eye. “Fine, from the beginning, then.”
I’ve occasionally wondered whether Madame Aritonovich might have seen those first movements Tanya made by looking in the mirror, but that’s impossible, because she was walking away from her, in the direction of Herr Tarangolian, who was sitting in his usual corner. In any case she had turned her back to Tanya and was heading toward the prefect with such a triumphantly relieved smile that I, a rather clumsy snowflake deployed close to that same corner, couldn’t help being amazed. The prefect lifted his heavy eyes as she approached his chair, and said: “How did you do that, you sorceress?”
“It wasn’t me,” said Madame Aritonovich. “Could I please have a light, Coco?” I saw how her hands were shaking. She lit her cigarette with the match he offered, and only then did she turn around to look at Tanya.
“This is one of the few truly miraculous events I have witnessed in my entire long life,” said the prefect. Madame Aritonovich did not respond. She was focused on Tanya’s dancing.
“Ahh,” said the prefect, gasping with glee. “Fiokla — such a port des bras! But don’t pretend — that was you, you’re the one who brought it out of her.” He expressed his delight in an artificial excitement. “I admit, the child was always talented, we agreed on that from the very beginning, but this, this is brilliant. Brava, brava!” He applauded. “You see …” He played the awestruck admirer with such verve that he wound up being truly moved. “What balance, what elevation, what ballon!”
(Ballon refers to a special trick in dance, or better, the divinely given ability of a ballet dancer to appear to hold a position in the air, as if released from gravity. The effect is attained by the dancer’s rapidity in assuming the desired position during a jump, which makes the flight seem more drawn out, relaxed, and full of élan.)
“She already had all of that,” said Madame Aritonovich. “What she had lost, and has now regained, is herself.”
“I admire you, Fiokla Ignatieva,” said Herr Tarangolian. He kissed her hand ardently.
When the scene was over, Madame Aritonovich said: “Well done, Tanya. And the rest of you were excellent. Ice cream for everyone. Who would like to volunteer to go get it?”
We broke out in cheers. Herr Tarangolian got up, went over to Tanya, took the red carnation out of its buttonhole and presented it to her with a very seriously intended, exaggeratedly gallant bow.
“Nu, finally something worth hearing: ice cream for everyone,” said Solly Brill. And then, to Tanya: “You could have come up a little sooner with the dance discipline and all that, you know.” He sighed. “Whimsical creatures, these women, by God!”
He had planted himself in the middle of the room and watched Herr Tarangolian, who had righted himself after bowing to Tanya and was gravely prancing back to Madame. “Herr Coco, you have a button open!”
The prefect looked down at himself, dismayed and embarrassed. “No, on your left gaiter,” said Solly. “Why? What did you think?”
That same afternoon Tanya was missing at home. They called for her but she didn’t come. They went looking for her, increasingly agitated, but she was nowhere to be found. We were forced to ask at the neighbors, but she hadn’t been seen there either. Uncle Sergei was sent into town to look for her at Madame Aritonovich’s or at the institute. But she wasn’t there, either. They were on the point of asking the prefect to contact the police when she came striding through the garden gate — accompanied by our father and Aunt Paulette.
Without paying any attention to our mother’s worried expression, our father went straight to his room. That was the sign of a rising crisis, and everyone took pains not to say a single unnecessary word.