El Milagro and Other Stories by Patricia Preciado Martin

Author:Patricia Preciado Martin [Patricia Preciado Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Arizona Press
Published: 2015-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

1 "Shorty"

2 "Stinky Queen" (literally, "flatulant, stinky crown")

3 a Mexican custom in which 15-year-old girls are presented to society (debutantes)

4 bridesmaids

La Bailarina

The Dancer

All I ever really wanted to be was a dancer — a ballerina — the kind that gets all dressed up in something white and frothy with feathers and see-through veils and white silk stockings and white satin toe shoes and a paste-jewel crown. A ballerina is always a beautiful, sad princess who has ladies-in-waiting with flowers in their hair dancing around her. She's rescued from the witch in black by a handsome prince who leaps and twirls and throws her in the air and carries her upside down (she doesn't seem to mind), and nobody ever falls down.

The people who come to see you dance the ballet are real fancy. We went to see Swan Lake at the Temple of Music and Art on a school field trip once. The men wore tuxedos and top hats, and the ladies wore long dresses with white gloves and ropes of fake pearls. They had stoles made out of dead faxes and rabbits with little staring glass eyes, some with their tails still attached. The concert hall was painted all in gilt, and there was a red velvet curtain with gold tassels and a crystal chandelier as big as our house. It was all very high class.

But when I asked Papá about classical ballet lessons, he said, "No seas simple. They don't give lessons like that on our side of town, and who do you think is going to be chauffeuring you three times a week to the East Side Ballet Academy? Your Mamá doesn't drive, and I'm moonlighting at Blackie's Service Station. Anyway, those kind of dance lessons are for rich giieritas, and you'd be out of place."

He gave me a big smile and a hug, but I didn't feel any better.

"Okay, okay," I persisted. "What about tap-dancing lessons? They have classes after school at the "Y" on Third Avenue, and they're real cheap, and I can take the bus. My friend Graciela gets to go, and she says it's real fun. The shoes are neat — black patent leather tied with a ribbon at the ankle, with taps on the heel and toe so you clack-clack whenever you walk, and sometimes they make little sparks when you're dancing."

"No seas ridícula," he countered. "There's no way I'm going to give you permission to take those tap-dancing lessons and wear a skintight leotard — que no tiene vergüenza la juventud1 — and those short skirts that when you twirl around enseñan todo, hasta los calzoncillos y las nalgas.2 My compadre told me he went to a recital to see his niece, your friend Graciela, and the girls were all wearing pancake makeup and blue eyeshadow and bright red lipstick, and they all looked like you know what. Excuse me, but that's what he said.

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