As far back as I can remember I have always loved ballet dancing. Even when I was so small that I had to stand on my chair to see over the audience at my first show, The performance enchanted me. So much in fact that I twirled, and leapt and walked on my tiptoes everyday around the house, until one time when I got so dizzy from spinning that I accidentally knocked over, and broke, a china vase and was told “No more dancing in the house”. My goal in life was to become a world class ballerina and someday perform in the Rdeca Preproga, slovenian for Red Carpet, parade which takes place in Russia every year at the old palace in Moscow.
Then, a year or two later after expressing much interest in learning to dance, I was surprised one Christmas with my first pair of ballet slippers and a trip to the local ballet school to see about getting me some lessons. I was so excited about my first lesson, I could hardly stop talking about it or asking questions which no one I knew could answer. I didn’t know any dancers. Since I received my ballet shoes on Christmas day, we weren’t to visit the ballet school until a week later, as not to bother the instructors during the holidays. I decided there was plenty of time for me to start “practicing”, and wore my slippers everywhere I went. As a result they were quite worn out by the end of the month. My Grandmama grumbled at having to get me a new pair, but even as she tossed my soiled slippers in the trash, I think I saw her chuckle.
Also for as long as I can remember I have lived with my grandmama in St. Petersburg, Russia. My mother had died before my first birthday from a tumor growing inside of her. I couldn’t remember her at all having been so young when she died, but Grandmama told me just to imagine an older version of myself because I looked just like she did at my age. According to Grandmama, we were both tall and thin, had straight, almost black hair, dark chocolate eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across our cheeks and noses. Even though Grandmama and I live in Russia, we were really Italian and my roots showed in my looks. My father died after my mother for reasons unknown to me. Grandmama says that it was because he loved my mother so much that when she passed away he couldn’t bear to live without her. Somehow I find it hard to believe that he simply died of depression. An unknown disease maybe, or he caused his own death. I mean, Grandmama lost her husband in the revolution and she’s still alive. Also my father wouldn’t have been completely alone. He still had me and the rest of his kids. My siblings, the youngest being 12 years older than me, were away at school in France at the time I was born and when they heard that my parents were dead they just stayed where they were I guess. So I have actually never met them.Sometimes I wonder if they know that I even exist.
When I was six years old I asked Grandmama for my siblings names and addresses so that I could write them letters telling them about me. Grandmama looked surprised when I asked this but said yes, and in minutes she was sitting down with me at the kitchen table helping me write my letter. Then Grandmama folded it up really small, put in an envelope and we went across town to give it to the post office to be sent. After that, all that was left to do was wait. Every day when I got home from school I would ask Grandmama “Can we go to the post office today?” And everyday the answer was “not today”, until the end of the week. When I had almost given up, Grandmama announced that it was time to check if anything had come for us in the mail that week. I was so excited that I couldn’t keep from chattering about it on the way there. There were so many “what if’s” I thought. What if I had an older sister who had the same status as Lydia Lopokova, a famous Russian ballerina, did at the time. Of course now I think it incredibly silly of me to hope for that. Or what if we were going to visit my siblings in France. What if they were to come live with me and Grandmama.
When we at last came to the post office, my enthusiasm caused a burst of energy to surge through my tiny body and I raced into the building with Grandmama jogging behind me. But when Grandmama asked about our mail and the person behind the desk replied that there was none, my excitement dropped down to deep disappointment. I even started crying, for my hopes had been set so high and now they were crushed. Grandmama, at an attempt to calm me, quickly said, “Don’t worry Lia , we’ll write another one.”
So each week after that Grandmama and I would compose a new letter and send it off to my brother and sister’s addresses in France. Sometimes I would even draw pictures to go with them. And every Friday when we went to the post office the situation was always the same, no replies. After about two months of this I finally decided that I didn’t want to write to them anymore. And Grandmama did not stop me, so I have never tried to communicate with my family ever again.
Ten years later almost nothing had changed. I went to school which was not particularly enjoyable but I still did pretty well, had a handful of friends that I saw from time to time, and the highlight of my everyday, ballet lessons. I had the most perfectly normal life of any 16 year old growing up in St. Petersburg in 1932, until recently.
It all started when I was whizzing home on my bicycle after school to grab my ballet stuff before lessons. Usually, Grandmama was in her room taking her afternoon nap at this time, but today she was sitting at the kitchen table tearing up some piece of paper. When I got closer I could see that there was stamp and an address. It was a letter envelope!
“Grandmama, why are you tearing up that letter?”, I asked. Grandmama jumped in her chair, obviously startled , and glanced up at me. Wow! I thought. She must really be going deaf if she can’t even hear me closing that heavy old front door, which is really more like slamming because it is so big and heavy.
“Nothing darling”, she replied almost instantly. “Just disposing of some old mail. Oh look at the time!”, she said pointing a shaky finger at the clock. “ You’d better hurry or you’ll be late for your dancing lesson.”
So before I had even set foot in my own house for more than two minutes, I was being hustled out. But instead of going right to the ballet school like Grandmama had asked me to, I just stood in front of the door for a little while thinking. No way did I believe that that was really just some “old mail”. It’s possible, but Grandmama always kept the house spotless, so she wouldn’t be just finding something, unless her eyesight was getting bad too. Also, why was she acting so strange? There’s definitely something more to it . Oh well, I know Grandmama, and she won’t do anything stupid. She may be elderly, but she’s not crazy, and as for the letter, I’m not worried. Grandmama has no connections outside of town, everyone she knew and loved is dead except for me, and I’m not expecting any letters. In fact, I haven’t had anything to do with mail since… Wait. No, it couldn’t be. It’s impossible.
Ahh, I’m here at last. Staring in awe at the big room in front of me. Smooth wooden floors, a huge mirror lining one of the one of the four great walls, the other three dressed in majestic floral wall paper of deep purple, and a perfectly sanded, slender ballet bar. Everything seemed like glass, sparkling clean and so fragile that I felt if I put any weight on anything it would crack. But of course it never does, and as soon as I start to glide across the smooth surface that is the floor, it feels strong and hard enough to hold the moon. From the moment I first set foot in this place I knew I could stay there for a long time. The only thing that would make it better would be for the ceiling to open up so that I could dance under the stars. My first years at the ballet school I practiced with a whole group of girls my age in another practice room downstairs. Then when I was 12, head of the ballet school, Madame Fidolia, pulled me aside one day before class and asked me to stay for a few minutes afterwards. It turned out that she wanted to tell me that after observing me for the last few years she had seen that I possessed quite a bit of rare talent for my age. I was extremely flexible and had quickly mastered most dance steps only shortly after I had been taught them.
“And so”, she said. “Any further instruction you receive in classical ballet at this school will come from private tutoring with me.” I was shocked. I had no idea Madame had been stalking me like this, or that she apparently thought I was so good, although it was true that I had been ahead of the class most of the time. Without thinking too much about it, I said yes. Even if I thought Madame Fiolia a little strange and scary, it couldn’t be worse than being in that slow class. I didn’t have friends in it anyway.
So that is why I am here today, waiting for Madame in this gorgeous room so that I can start my lesson. It was like any other practice day, I had arrived at precisely 2:45, changed into my white satin ballet dress and shoes which were a shiny pale peachish color, and was warming up before practice when Madame came into the room looking happy which was quite unusual. She wasn’t smiling, but she was walking faster than usual and not really leaning on her cane so I was pretty sure something was out of the ordinary. And I was right. Madame hustled over to me, her heels clicking on the floor, and sounded out of breath as she started to explain things to me.
“Lia, get ready quick! A man has come, come to watch you dance.” At her saying this, a rather short gentle man wearing a top hat and well groomed black mustache strolled in.
“Hello”, he said. “ Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Nicholas Trankov, conductor of the Russian circus and the famous Rdeca Preproga, which I’m sure you've heard of.” Had I heard of it? I thought. It has only been my lifelong dream since I was five to participate in it. But instead I replied
“Lia”, with a curtsey and a blush creeping up from my neck.
“Well Lia, I’m so sorry to surprise you like this but I prefer to see dance pupils perform for me on the spot without any preparations.” He paused and then as if sensing my confusion added
“Your instructor wrote to me about what an extraordinary dancer you are and I just had to come and see for myself.” Wow, so I was to audition for the very person who held my dream, maybe even my entire future in the palm of his hand. Was I ready at all?
“Let’s start with this”, he pulled out a record player that started to play a famous Russian piece.
“Show me all you know”, he said. And so I did, making up my own routine as I went along. Each twirl, step, and leap flowed into the other, and all the while I was keeping my back arched and my toes pointed. I tried to put into action everything Madame and I had worked on, taking into consideration what and what not to do, doing a lot of what I was good at and and not doing much of what I didn’t excel at. All my nervousness about it being an audition melted away and I was simply doing what I love for my own pleasure.And on the music’s last notes I was somewhat disappointed that it was over, yet still I had to know what this man would say.
“Marvelous, marvelous!”,he announced while applauding me. “Now why don’t you come stand over here for me now.” Then Mr. Trankov came over and started twisting me in all different ways. Leg up here, arms down there, head this way, toes pointed this way. Next he asked me to perform a variety of dance steps, separately at first, then two at a time and so on until I was dancing short sequences of them.
“Well”, Mr. Trankov said, when he was evidently finished testing me. “You were right Madam, this girl sure is talented. Then switching over to me he said, “I’d like an addition to the parade fleet. If your interested we start training in one week at the Dancing Centre in St. square. Then we leave for Moscow in a month. He then handed me a business card, looked me in the eye and said, “I hope that you will decide to become one of us.” And then he left, walking out just as calmly as he had come in, as if nothing exciting had ever happened. Well, I guess it hadn’t, for him anyways. He probably does stuff like this on a regular basis. But for me, this could be the start of my career. If not, then at least I would get to do something that I have always wanted to do, dance in the Rdeca Preproga parade. This was huge!
Since lessons were over by this time I quickly pedaled home to tell Grandmama the good news. But when it all came spilling out about how this could be the start of of my life as a world class ballerina, if Mr. Trankov would maybe offer me a contract to join his circus, Grandmama did not look as pleased as I had expected. She looked as though she was forcing the smile on her face and… were those tear welling up in her eyes?
“Grandmama?” I asked.
“Lia”, she said. “You know I love you and I want the best for you. Just make sure you know what you really want so that you can make the right decisions.”
“Grandmama, I love you too but you know I can’t stay here forever.”
“I know”, she said.
The next day I went back to the ballet school, not really for my lessons but just so Madame and I could meet and talk about all of this. We did and then I went home. When I got inside, the house was completely dark. “Must've been a power outage”, I thought.
“Grandmama, I’m home”, I hollard. No answer. I eventually found her in bed asleep. She looked so peaceful, I hated to wake her, but I couldn’t find any candles. Grandmama had been strangely rearranging most things in our home and now I didn’t know where anything was. I would be fine to wait. I liked the quiet stillness of the dark, but I knew Grandmama might freak out if she woke up on her own in complete darkness. So I started to shake her awake.
“Grandmama, wake up”. She remained asleep. I shook harder. “Come on Grandmama, wake up!” Now I was yelling. Panic began to set in. Why wasn’t she waking? “Grandmama wake up, I need you, please, please wake up! Then I put my hand in front of her nose and mouth. There was no breath.” Grandmama please you have to wake up! Oh God no, please somebody help me, SOMEBODY!
Grandmama’s funeral took place only three days later. I almost can’t be sad yet because I’m still trying to sort everything out. How could my life have gone from being so good too this happening? At least now I know what I’m going to do. Mr. Trankov showed up earlier at Grandmama’s funeral and offered me a contract to join the circus. He said that he knows I’m grieving so I have until after the parade to decide. Although now it feels like nothing, not even that could ever bring me joy. But why not accept? I have no one else to be with, nowhere else to go. At least then I’d have a roof over my head and the chance of finding new joy in the future. There’ll be no regrets, right? Or will there? I’m so busy pondering this I don’t notice the woman coming up behind me. When she taps my shoulder I turn and try to make out the face, blurry and distorted by my tears. After they clear up, I can tell that she is a stranger but also seems somewhat familiar. She looked like what I had always imagined my mother to look like, beautiful, tall and thin, strait, almost black hair, and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, except for this woman was younger, about early twenties.
“Hello”, she said. “ Are you Lia Castinelli?” I nodded. “ Thank goodness”, she said and without another word she rushed forward and threw her arms around me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you”, she sobbed.
“Wait, wait”, I stammered pulling her off. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Lia, about everything. I’m your sister, Clara. You wouldn’t have met me, and I just recently found out about you. I sent you a letter telling you that I was coming. It should have arrived a few days ago.
“What are you talking about?”
“Here, come sit down. It’s a long story.”
So I spent the next half hour on a nearby bench with my sister, whom I didn’t know I had, filling me in on the last few years of her life. I turns out that she’s not my only sibling. I also have an oldest sister and an older brother. The reason I have never met them before is that when they heard the news that our parents had died, they also somehow heard that the child our mother had given birth to (me) had also perished. Believing that they now had no close family left in Russia decided to stay at school in France where they could stay with an aunt who could be responsible for them and keep them during the holidays. She apparently didn’t know of my existence either. Clara had recently found out about me from a person living in her old apartment, who had been trying to find her for a long time to hand over all those letters I wrote so many years ago. When I was young and writing letters to my siblings Grandmama only had the addresses of where they were living shortly before I was born. But since then they had all graduated and moved away to a different part of the country. And that’s why I never got replies to any of those letters. They never got them.
“When I finally got all of those letters, I felt horrible...”, she said. “ knowing I had a lost little sister somewhere, and I had to find you. When I found out where you lived, I sent you and your Grandmother a letter telling you I was coming. There was no time to wait for a reply so I just left and assumed you knew I was arriving.
That must've been the letter I caught Grandmama tearing up that afternoon. It had to have been. Who else could’ve been sending us mail? But why was she so angry? Did she truly not want my sister to come?
“But now that I've found you at last”, Clara went on, “everything will be as it should. You’ll come to France to live with us, and oh Lia, they have the most elite schools there. You will learn so much and graduate with high honors. There are so many opportunities for women nowadays and...”
“Wait, stop Clara!” I cut in.
“What”, she looked offended.
“Look, I’m almost old enough to be on my own anyways and right now I might have somewhere else to go. I’m a ballerina and the circus master of the Russian circus just offered me a contract to join the circus. It’s an opportunity I might never have again if I turn this this one down. We’ll still see each other from time to time. I’ll come visit you, but I just don’t need you to look after me like a child. I can take care of myself.
“Oh, well think on it will you. But make the decision fast. 
“All right” I said “And while you're in town I’d still love to visit. I’m dancing in the Rdeca Preproga parade. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it but it’s a big event here in Russia. The empress even attended when she still ruled. I’d sure love it if you came.
To my relief a smile spread across my sister’s face.
“I’d love to”, she said.
Two weeks later days later, I’m with the rest of the performers waiting for the parade to start. I should be excited, but I’m scared. Not about the parade though, I know I’ll do great. It’s what comes after. When I’m done there’ll be two people waiting for an answer they expected long ago. It’s  been over a week, so I should have made a decision by now, right? But I haven’t. I keep thinking back to what Grandmama said on the night when I thought my life was completely perfect. “Make sure you know what you really want”. But what do I really want? How do I know which one is the right decision? Oh, it’s starting. I may have difficulties in the near future, but at least for now I can forget everything and just dance`.