November 6, 2010
Today was one of Renesmee’s and my ballet-practice days. We met in Edward’s old room at the appointed hour, where the end half of the room had been converted to a mini-studio complete with professional barre. Esme and I had figured Edward wouldn’t feel at all anxious if we practiced in his own room, and so far it seemed to be just fine. Of course, we had also kept it to a bare minimum, as I’d promised we would; just wood floors, the barre, and mirror behind the whole length of the barre. Since the other two walls were entirely made of glass, there was plenty of light, and it felt much more open and larger than it actually was.
We did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself! And it was so convenient to have Edward’s stereo and entire music collection right there in the same room. So I’d had to move a few piles of books – so what? We had a huge library made specifically to store books. What I had done in Edward’s room was an improvement.
Okay, so maybe I hadn’t gotten a written thank-you note for transforming his old bedroom. Maybe he rolled his eyes a little when he saw it. But not much more than he usually does, anyway.
Whatever. Ness and I were having a blast! Because she was already so skilled, and probably had been born with these abilities, we didn’t practice the normal way – you know, plies and form and posture … she had that down flat. Instead, we had agreed to perform a different ballet each practice. So far, Renesmee liked Sleeping Beauty the best, but there were still plenty for us to do.
Today, we were doing Coppelia, which was making Nessie and I both giggle as she acted out Coppelia’s exaggerated stiff doll movements, gradually loosening into her own graceful twirls as the story progressed. It wasn’t quite as amazing as the full ballet would have been, since I could only play so many roles – Dr. Coppelius and Franz – while Ness played Coppelia and Swanilda. But then again, it was only practice.
Within the first four minutes, Rosalie wandered casually into the room, silently observed us for a moment, and then drifted over to Edward’s leather sofa and sat down. She curled up on the arm closer to us, and tried to look bored, twirling her hair with one hand.
Then Esme, who had stopped working as soon as she heard Renesmee and I both go into Edward’s room, decided to leave her own room and come walking down the hallway. She carried a book of wallpaper swatches, which she abandoned as soon as she joined Rose on the sofa.
Finally, Bella stopped pretending to watch TV downstairs, and came up to join the audience. There was just barely room for all three of them on the couch, so they gave up on the pretense of having other reasons to be in the room, and unabashedly watched our every move.
Having an audience made Renesmee’s eyes sparkle and her moves even more inspired. It led me to think about human experiences. What do all little girls want? To be prima ballerina, right? Why else do they all go to ballet class (and then drop out once they realize how insanely demanding it is)?
In a handful of years, Renesmee would be an adult. Would she still love to dance? Actually, she probably would, given her level of talent and passion. It’s not like ballet would ruin her legs and feet, cripple her back, or give her an eating disorder the way it did to so many human girls. She would be able to enjoy it for hundreds of years, if she chose to.
But not as a little girl, without a care in the world aside from happiness and fun. A girl who, it seemed more and more every day, loved to make other people feel happy even more than she loved to be made happy herself.
The idea blossomed into a plan. We would have a recital, with Edward at the piano, and Rosalie, Esme, Bella and I as the corps. It would be great to have a male lead or two, but I just could not imagine Jasper agreeing to it. He loves me – but that’s asking a bit much!
Although, for Renesmee … see, it’s so funny: the girl who wants to make everyone else happy ends up with them wrapped around her little finger, lining up for turns to make her happy. Jazz might agree to this for Nessie. But for some reason I couldn’t see it!
There was something blocking the recital. Maybe someone … But who wouldn’t want this to happen? It definitely wasn’t just the involvement of the wolves, who would definitely be in attendance; I should still be able to see the preparations, the rehearsals …
Well, there was still some time to figure it out, assuming Ness wanted to do The Nutcracker at Christmas. If she preferred, we could wait til Valentine’s Day and do Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, or even Swan Lake.
But in the meantime …
“Hey, guys?” I abruptly turned to face the looky-loos, who blinked up at me in surprise, as I was interrupting my own practice.
“Want to join us?”
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