Waltz Time - Entry Two: Ballet Class

Waltz Time

Entry Two: Ballet Class

I hadn’t heard if anyone got the job. The audition felt like a blur — the kind you only half-remember after you leave the studio and return to the noise of the city. I tried not to think about it too much.

Then one morning, a few weeks later, I walked into Finis Jhung’s ballet class on the Upper West Side — the advanced one for theater professionals. The studio was huge, but you still had to arrive early to secure a spot at the barre. If class started at 9:00 am, I was there at 8:30 am waiting for him to open the door. Finis was a legend. Dancers from every corner of the city packed that room to move under his watchful eye.

I got there just in time and spotted a familiar face. You.

I recognized you immediately, standing at the far end of the barre, focused, already warm, and mid–tendu. You glanced my way during pliés, just briefly, and I smiled — surprised that I was even smiling. I hadn’t expected to see you again, let alone feel that small flicker of something familiar in the middle of a dance class.

I didn’t know if you remembered me. I didn’t even know if you’d been hired.

During the transition from barre to floor work, I quietly made my way toward the water fountain — mostly to cool off, partly to maybe run into you. Before I could look up, I heard:

“Hi! Do you remember me?”

You startled me. I had fully planned to be the one casually seeking you out, strictly for information, of course. You beat me to it — with that open smile and easy voice I remembered.

I laughed. “Yes, I remember you.”

I asked if you’d heard anything from casting, and you nodded. “I got it. I leave for tour in two months.”

“Oh. Congrats,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed. “I guess I didn’t get it.”

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice soft. “You’ll get the next one.”

A beat passed. Then: 

“Can we meet after class? I’m heading toward the 72nd Street Station”

I nodded, maybe too quickly. “Sure. I’m going that way too.”

We hadn’t even danced together in that class, but something had shifted — subtly, quietly, between one barre and the next. A shared glance. A brief conversation. A promise of something more.

It was still just a waltz.

But the tempo was starting to change.

💖 Anna