My dad tried to hide my mom from me as long as he could. I remember asking about her at a young age. Who was she? Was I anything like her? What did she do for a living?
I was about to start high school when I first had the courage to really ask my dad about my mom. We had just came home from Aunt Jessie’s funeral; we had just said goodbye to Uncle Mason and Skylar for the day. It was silent, like we were both mentally exhausted from the day we had. I looked at my dad as he ate the takeout we got before we got home. He was on his phone, paying me no mind. I sat there, feeling the word vomit come up towards my throat. I picked the cuticles on my hands, looking down at them as I called out for my dad. He looked up at me when I did.
“What’s the real reason mom left?” I asked.
…
I walked to Sonia’s room, nervous to see what she wanted to talk to me about. I can’t lie; Sonia has been a hard-ass for the majority of the rehearsals. I thought that maybe she hated me or something the way she would nitpick every mistake I made on stage. I just didn’t understand why out of all the dancers in the production, she would only focus on me and the mistakes I made. Sahim would tell me to not worry about it too much, and that was just Sonia’s personality. Something told me it was always something more than just that.
I knocked on her hotel door and it immediately opens. Sonia stands there and looks at me.
“Hi, Grace,” Sonia said. “Come on in.” I slowly walked into Sonia’s room; clearly her room was bigger and more expensive than what the dancers were staying in.
“Your assistant said you wanted to speak to me,” I mentioned, sitting on the chair directly across Sonia in the living room area.
“Yes,” Sonia answered and readjusting in her seat. “I wanted to talk to you about the production.” I assumed that much, Sonia. She looks directly at me before she continues. “We wanted to change some things around with the last number of the production; the ‘Proper’ number.”
“Okay,” I simply said, worrying about the changes she wants to make. Is she taking me out of that number? Is she completely cutting out that number because of me?
“I want you to learn the complete solo part of the number,” Sonia stated, not giving it any room to linger in the air. “I and the rest of the production team think that splitting the solo isn’t necessary. You embody the message of the piece flawlessly.” I had to blink a couple of times to realize that this wasn’t some sort of dream I was having. Did she just compliment my dancing for once this entire time?
“Wow, uhm; thank you,” I said, clearly trying to find the right words to say. “That truly means a lot to me.” Sonia smiles at me.
“When I first danced at the original production, there was this dancer that did more than just dance ; she told a story,” Sonia began to say. “She was the type of dancer that you didn’t find in your typical studio. It was like she was born to dance or something. The director of the production wanted her to finish with a dance solo and when I tell you I can still remember that dance step-by-step; it was simply mesmerizing.” Sonia stopped for a moment and looked back at me. “Her name was Mollie Sue Castro.”
“Oh,” I quickly reacted, not realizing that the dancer she was talking about was my mom.
“Yes,” Sonia answered, laughing at my response. “Mollie was the best dancer in that production, and that says a lot considering all of the dancers were the top in their respective academies. Mollie was always different though. I didn’t speak to her a lot, but when she did she always was focused on the dance numbers and really danced at each rehearsal like it was the real thing. She was offered the solo the night before the opening show; a couple of the dancers and I went out and saw Mollie dancing for what nearly was at least 6 hours straight. How do I know that? I left the rehearsal space that afternoon and returned late at night; she was still dancing.”
“She sounds like she was dedicated in her craft,” I said, trying to not give away the fact that Mollie is my mother. I don’t know if Sonia knows that or not, but I figured it was best to keep it to myself.
“She was,” Sonia agreed. “I don’t know what she went on to do after the production, but I can only imagine it was amazing things, because she was an amazing dancer.” Sonia laughed to herself before she said anything else. “Your dancing reminds me a lot of hers. I swear I didn’t remember much of Mollie until I first saw you dance, in which the technique and style were uncannily similar.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked, wanting to hear Sonia open up more about my technique. We all knew she was once a dancer herself and that she participated in the first-ever dance production, so hearing her talk about my dancing in a positive way felt good. It made me feel like I was actually doing something right in my life.
“A great thing,” Sonia answered. “I think you are capable of making history just like Mollie did, because–this stays between us–we haven’t had a dancer like her in the following productions like her since she was in it herself. That was until I saw you dance for the first time. You have a real talent that exceeds a lot of the others in this production, and you all are some of the nation’s best dancers.”
“Thank you, Sonia,” I genuinely said. “That really means a lot to me, considering I thought you hated my dancing or something.” I tried to laugh it off since Sonia had opened up to me a bit more, but she didn’t laugh along.
“Make no mistake, Grace,” Sonia began to explain. “If you feel like my comments or critique is harsh or stern, it’s only because you have so much potential to be amazing for the production. You’re a seamless dancer, but you always look like you have 500 things on your mind when you dance. I need you to focus and really believe that you are a natural-born dancer. Because you are.” I didn’t say anything back to Sonia, only because she was right. I do always have so much on my mind when I’m dancing; I always did. I feel like I’m constantly having things run through my mind.
“I don’t think there’s ever been a time when I didn’t,” I said out loud. I looked at Sonia to clarify. “You know, have so much on my mind.”
“We all do,” Sonia argued. “And for most of us, it hinders us from living life to it’s fullest potential.” Sonia leaned forward and looked directly at me with a stern look on her face. “Whatever you have going on in your life brought you here. You and every other person in this production are here because of a decision you all made, so why let things out of your control ruin the things that you are in control of?” Sonia’s alarm on her phone goes off, which cuts her sentence short. She turns off her alarm and takes a deep breath before she says anything else. “I do have another occasion in about 30 minutes, so I’ll let you go and relax for the night. Let me know if the dance solo is something you are interested in doing; you’ll have to be at rehearsal early to be taught the beginning of the solo.”
I nod my head, understanding Sonia and her directions. She smiles and gets up from her seat, which then makes me stand up.
“Thank you for seeing me, Grace,” Sonia gently said. “I apologize if this conversation happened later than we intended, but we have an entire year to work together professionally.”
“Thank you,” I simply said, walking towards the front door to exit.
…
My dad thinks before he says anything to me. It’s different; he would answer right away and very vague just to move on from the subject. I was shocked he even said anything to me.
“Your mom was–is–an amazing dancer,” he began to say. “She dedicated her life to dancing, even if it affected the relationships around her. I used to travel all the way uptown to make her dance shows just because she was very selective to who watched her dance. I had the luxury of being one of the few that she felt comfortable enough to dance in front of.” He smiled as he spoke about their younger days, but I knew things would change as it quickly faded away.
“As we got older, her career became more damaging to our relationship. Settling down wasn’t something your mother wasn’t ready to do, even if it was gradually happening. We both had to sacrifice some parts of our lives to make sure that you were okay, and that we were properly taking care of you. Your mom wasn’t ready to sacrifice things like I was.” He sighed before he continued to explain. “Your mom wanted to further herself and her career–“
“So she just fucking left me for dance?” I asked, angry now. My dad looked at me sternly and scrunched his eyebrows.
“Language,” he simply said.
“My mom left me to pursue her dance career?!” I got up from my seat, feeling the tears forming in my eyes.
“Grace,” my dad called out for me, but it was too late.
I hated my mom for choosing dance over her own daughter, and I hate that I loved doing the thing she left me for.
Letters From Liz. 