Martha

My name is Martha.

Just Martha?

Yes, just Martha.

Why is it that you have no last name?

It’s a long story.

The director turned his head from side to side, to glance at his two co-judges, the women teachers on either side of him, then back to Martha. Well, it sounds like a story that I would love to hear, but of course this is not the time. After today, if all goes well for you, perhaps I will then have plenty of time to get to to know you more. I wish you the best of luck, Miss, uh, Martha.

Thank you. Martha clasped her hands together as if to signify thank you, and quickly turned away toward the record player in the corner. She gently placed the needle on the record and then ran tip-toe to the center of the audition space and placed her feet and hands in first position with her head bowed, ready to begin. From the corner of her eye, she spotted her backpack nestled on the floor against the record table. The Happy Face patch caught a ray of sun and looked as bright as the day her mother gave it to her 15 years ago. In reality, it was grayed with age and wear, but it was still Martha’s most prized possession. Even though she has never let her back pack our of her sight in all that time, if something did happen she would make sure to at least always keep the patch. Mommy will always be here, she had touched Martha’s heart, So always keep your happy face. 

Martha took a deep breath and the Copland strings and tick tock percussion began the suspenseful music as she began to depict in dance, her life, before the judges. That freezing cold January day soon after Christmas. She was back in school, Kindergarten, at a circle table coloring a snowman when the teacher gently tapped her on the shoulder and said, Martha, please come with me. 

Martha knew it was something bad. She could feel it deep in her stomach. Her gut felt like cement, and it took all her effort to trudge along with the teacher to the door, where the principal stood, with a struggled smile on her face and she said as she reached out her hand to Martha, Come with me, Dear. There is something I want to talk to you about. Clug, clug, clug went Martha’s heavy feet as she let herself be lead to the office. 

In front of the desk, was another woman, sitting with her body twisted to greet Martha. The too had that smile that meant there was really nothing to smile about. 

The principal rounded to her chair behind the desk and gestured for Martha to sit in the second chair next to the strange woman who wore a navy blue blazer, tight skirt and sensible shoes. Her hands were folded stiffly on her lap.

Martha, the principal began. Martha’s eyes snapped from the woman’s gaze to the principal’s. I’m sorry to say, honey, but we have some bad news. Martha bowed her head and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Though she stayed silent, deep down she knew that last Christmas visitation was the end. Even though her mother was once again sober and off drugs, and even wore make up and clothes that were clean and neat. 

I’m doing good baby, her mother had said. I think I’m gonna make it this time, and then it’s gonna be you and me. I’m gonna get an apartment and you and I are gonna have a great life. They say if I keep this up, we might be together again in only eight months. Martha wasn’t sure what eight months really meant, but it sounded long. Still, she hugged her mother and agreed that she would stay strong, keep smiling and be patient.  

It was the happiest Christmas of Martha’s life and she chose to believe every word her mother said.

The principal didn’t need to tell Martha what happened. She already knew. Her mother didn’t make it. Her mother was dead. Martha reached for the strap of her backpack and clutched it like she used to clutch her mother’s hand. Now she would be a foster child forever. She lifted her backpack and hugged it tightly, slightly rocking back and forth. 

That last Christmas morning, there was a big box wrapped with brightly colored, red and silver and gold paper with a huge red bow. Martha wanted to open it fast, but the expression of her mother‘s face sitting on the edge of the couch with her hands clenched beneath her chin scrunched around her heart was something Martha didn’t want to rush. Slowly, she peeled off the tape as her mother bounced eagerly beside her. Under the paper was a big white box. She opened the box and fished through the tissue paper and pulled out a navy blue with yellow trim backpack, with a large Happy Face patch on the front. I sewed this on myself. Rehab has all sorts of craft classes and I learned how to sew this. When we get our apartment, we can sew together. It was the most gorgeous thing Martha had ever seen. She looked up at her mother, totally amazed at this special gift. I know it’s hard when you don’t have your own space, and I know you said some things had been taken from you by other kids. So you take this backpack and you put all your things in it and you don’t let it out of your sight—ever. Until we can be together, this backpack is your home away from home and your security. And know that I am always with you in that backpack, no matter what. 

‘No matter what’. Martha knew that grownups didn’t realize that children understood a lot more about certain phrases than they realized. ‘No matter what’ meant something bad was very likely to happen. Just the same, Martha rushed forward and hugged her mother as tight as she could. Thank you so much mommy! This is the best present ever!

Martha, the principal said softy, coming around the desk to hand Martha a tissue. This is Miss Dorothy. The home you were living in was temporary space while your mother was in recovery, and now… she paused before giving Martha more painful news. I’m afraid we will have to move you to a new place. But we think you will really like it there. It has it’s own school and you will get all your meals and there’s a huge playground outside. Miss Dorthy here will see to it that you settle in nicely and get everything you need. 

Martha knew there was nothing she could say. There was no use delaying. Still hugging her backpack, she stood, walked to the door and waited for Miss Dorothy to lead her away. Dorothy and the principal gave each other one last sorrowful look, and then Dorothy said, Come along, dear I’ll make sure to feel comfortable.

The clarinets played choppy, darting music, as Martha spun about looking here, and then looking there, her body flying and searching, exploring her new surroundings: a bed in a single room with a dresser and a mirror. You’re lucky to have your own room. Most places like this have two bunk beds to a room. But here, you have your own space. 

Then, the music stills as she sits staring at the blank wall. As the music slowly builds again, the strings livening up, she is then ten years old, living there five years now. Her best friend is Ethan, who the boys don’t like because he acts like a girl. Ethan is five years older than Martha and took a liking to her as soon as she arrived. He sat with her at dinner her first night—the older kids were encouraged to look after the younger ones. 

What’s your name? he had asked her. 

Martha, she said. 

Martha! Like Martha Graham! he said delighted. 

Martha who? Martha asked, trying not to let her spaghettini fall off the fork. 

She’s one of the best dance choreographers of all time!

Choreog—what?

Choreography. She creates dances. I have books about her in my room. I want to be a professional dancer one day. 

Martha looked at him in amazement. A boy? Dancing? 

Yeah, he said, I can see it in your face. I’m a boy, so what? But the other boys don’t like me. They call me a sissy.

Can I see your books some time? 

Sure!

And so the friendship began, Ethan and Martha always practicing dance moves on the playground. Because of them, the school added dance as sports option. All residents were required to play a sport and the the two of them weren’t any good at baseball, volleyball or any of the other “ball” sports. 

Martha pirouetted across the audition space, thinking about Ethan. He was now a principal dancer with this troupe. She didn’t get to see him much because of the company’s travel schedule but if she got in, they would be together again. 

The final notes are played like staccato question marks: Will I be picked? Did I do well enough? She ended on the floor, her final movement, reaching up to the sky. 

Then silently and gracefully, she stood before the judges. They had smiles on their faces. 

Thank you very much Miss Martha. You will hear from us by mail in two weeks. The best of luck to you. 

Martha said thank you and briskly turned to retrieve her backpack. She caressed the happy face with her fingers. You did it baby! she could have sworn her mother’s voice came through the patch, and she scooted out the door to find Ethan.