Portia waved back to her students before they exited the class room. After her last student left and closed the door, Portia pulled out a CD from her bag and put it into the player. She pushed the play button, then walked straight to the center of the room, standing straight while facing her own reflection on the mirror-wall. Seconds later, L’Aura’s song, Una Favola, started to flow out from the speaker and she started to move along with the rhythm.
The happiest moments for Portia were when she could dance on her own. Everything just faded out. She could forget everything, even who or what she was, as long as the song was playing and her body was moving.
When the song finally ended, Portia heard some claps from the door. She turned her head to find Jennifer there.
“Listening to the song and watching the way you dance…… oh my my, that was so beautiful,” Jennifer sighed and shook her head in admiration. “That….. was the most perfect arabesque penchee, grand jete, and pirouette that I’ve ever seen in my entire existence. But, well…. What do you expect from Juilliard’s graduate other than perfection?”
Portia smiled. “You’re exaggerating it,” she said. “But, thank you.”
The Juilliard School, or mostly known as Juilliard, was one of the most prestigious schools of performance art in the world. The dancing division was well-known in the world of dances due to its education and the artistic training quality.
When Portia was a little child, her mom took her to watch the dancing performance of the dancers from Juilliard. That experience was very memorable for Portia and since then, her biggest dream had been to learn dancings in Juilliard. At first, Portia was highly doubtful that she could ever get in, since there were thousands of people who enrolled themselves and knowing that every year, Juilliard would only accept 5-6 percents of the applicants.
But she made it. She got in. And the day when she read the acceptance letter from Juilliard, was the best day of her life. And the years she had spent dancing in Juilliard, were the best years of her life.
In Juilliard, every dancers, including Portia, got the training of classic ballet and modern dance, because Juilliard Dance wanted to produce true contemporary dancers. The graduates of Juilliard usually joined the ballet club or modern dance club in US and even abroad. Many of them had been the directors of well-known dancing clubs. There were also many of them who started their career as a choreographer and succeeded.
Even before she had graduated from Juilliard, Portia had already been offered to join one of the most famous dancing clubs in the world. But unfortunately, the reality didn’t work the way she wanted it to.
Portia sat on the floor and reached for her water bottle. “You still want to try attending the Juilliard’s audition?” she asked Jennifer.
“Of course,” Jennifer replied while taking her place next to Portia. “I’m not going to give up just because I got rejected twice.”
Jennifer was actually a really great dancer, but Juilliard had always been known for its very high standard. Somehow, Portia herself didn’t really understand what Juilliard actually looking for in a dancer on the audition. Perfect techniques? Potential? Talent? She didn’t know.
“Anyway, I’m going to a Broadway show tonight. You wanna come?” Jennifer asked.
“Sorry, I can’t,” Portia grimaced.
“Ah, you have to go to that person’s place?”
Portia nodded.
“So, how’s she doing now?”
“So-so,” Portia answered shortly and shrugged.
“She’s still mad at you?”
“I don’t know. But, I think so,” Portia said doubtfully. “She’s getting a bit nicer to me, but she’s not particularly nice either, if you know what I mean.”
It had been 2 weeks since Portia decided to help Ellen DeGeneres out. In the past 2 weeks, she had spent most of her time in Ellen’s apartment, doing her duties as the ‘house maid’, like that woman had always called her.
But along that time, she rarely even spoke to Ellen. That woman had almost spent most of her time in her room when Portia was there. She only went out once or twice to grab a cup of coffee or for lunch. Sometimes, Andy came and they both would discuss about work in the living room. If Andy and Ellen had to go somewhere to meet some people, Portia would be permitted to go home.
“What about Regina?” Jennifer asked again.
“Well, sometimes she came to her friend’s place to see me. She said she wants to make sure that her friend treats me well,” Portia said while smiling.
“She’s always nice to you,” Jennifer stated.
Portia’s smile slowly faded, the sparkle in her eyes dimmed, and she quietly mumbled, “Whereas I hope that she’s not that nice to me.”
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Portia pushed the intercom bell and waited for Ellen to open the door from upstairs, just like the usual. But this time, the voice of the woman rang on the intercom. “De Rossi?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Portia replied.
“You bring your car?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Wait there.”
Portia didn’t know what Ellen DeGeneres actually wanted, so she stayed there. She sat on the stoney stairs in front of the building and waited. While she waited, her phone rang.
“Hey, Billy,” Portia said cheerfully after bringing the phone to her left ear. “Yeah, Jennifer asked me earlier but I couldn’t come with you guys today. Sorry… I know… What? Really?” Portia laughed. “I never knew that she’s…..”
Suddenly somebody cleared their throat behind Portia. Portia turned around and looked up to see Ellen who was staring back at her with her signature frown.
“Billy, I need to go now… Sure, you can call me later.” Portia locked her phone screen and stood up, patting the back of her jeans. “So, what’s up?” she asked to Ellen.
Ellen looked a bit reluctant, but finally said, “Take me to the hospital.”
Portia eyes widen in surprise. “What? Why? Is there anything wrong with your wrist?”
Ellen stared at Portia. “No. I just want the doctor to check it and change the bandage.”
“Oh.”
“Andy is on his meeting, so he can’t drive me,” Ellen continued.
“And Regina has already left for San Fransisco to attend the hip-hop festival,” Portia added and nod her head.
“So, the option is taxi or you,” Ellen said. She looked at Portia hesitantly. “Maybe it’d be better if I call the taxi.”
Portia rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’ll take you to the hospital,” she said while jumping down from the stairs and walked to her car that she had parked not far from the building. Ellen trailed behind her.
Portia opened the door and said, “Get in.”
Ellen stared at Portia’s car in disbelief. “This is your car? A Beetle?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I can’t ride this car.”
Portia lifted her eyebrows. “Why not?”
Ellen pointed at Portia’s car with her hand that wasn’t bandaged in silent with her widen eyes.
Portia looked at her car, and then looked back at Ellen. “This car is cute,” she said.
“That’s the problem!” Ellen grumbled.
“So, you want us to take your car? No problem. I don’t mind.”
“And taking the risk of you crushing my Porsche?”
“Well, then….” Portia didn’t finish her sentence, instead swinging her arms to her car meaningfully. “After all, you don’t drive it. I do. So just get in. Okay?”
Ellen was still grumbling when she finally got into the car that she thought was too small and uncomfortable for her. “I think my legs would get cramped,” she mumbled.
“No, it won’t,” Portia said flatly. “Wait, don’t sit on my jacket.”
Portia pulled her jacket from the passenger seat and threw it to the backseat. But Ellen got a glimpse of the sewn writing with the white thread on the chest part of the thin jacket.
“Juilliard?” Ellen asked in disbelief. “Are you really a graduate from Juilliard or did someone give it to you?”
“Graduate of Juilliard isn’t just you, you know?” Portia replied while putting her seatbelt on. And then she looked at Ellen who was still staring at her in surprise. “Please put your seatbelt on.”
“So you ARE a graduate from Juilliard?” Ellen mumbled while wearing her seatbelt. “But, how do you know that I was graduated from Juilliard?”
Portia glanced at the rearview and started to drove the car slowly. “Regina told me once.”
“I guess my friend really has lots of mouths,” she grumbled again. “What else did she say?”
“Not much,” Portia answered. But, judging from a small smile that crossed the other girl’s face, Ellen was pretty sure that Regina had told Portia de Rossi more just for the sake of getting that girl’s attention.
“Regina never told me that you’re a Juilliard’s gradute,” Ellen said.
“That’s because she doesn’t know,” Portia said lightly.
“Regina doesn’t know? Why not?”
“She never asked me.”
Ellen stole a glance at the girl who was still driving next to her. It seemed that Regina did tell a lot of stories about herself –and even about her family and friends – to this girl, but Ellen was wondering about how much did Regina know about Portia de Rossi?
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Ellen got out of the doctor's room with a brand new bandage and the doctor’s statement that her wrist wouldn’t be magically healed in 2 weeks so she should be patient. Be patient? How could she be patient when everytime she looked at her hand that was hanging uselessly in front of her chest she wanted to just crush something?
Ellen exhaled in exasperation and turned her head to the rows of benches in front of the doctor’s room. Where’s that girl? She said she would wait here, but why wasn’t she here? Ellen looked around, and her eyes were fixed on a silhouette of Portia de Rossi who was standing next to the nurse desk and was talking to a middle-aged doctor with glasses on him.
The doctor seemed to be asking some questions to her and Portia answered. Portia smiled a while before she finally saw Ellen. Her eyes widen a bit, and then she turned her head back to the doctor and said something. Probably telling him that she should go.
When Portia was about to turn around, the doctor held her arm and said something once more. Then Ellen saw Portia touched the doctor’s arm back, smiled back and said something to him. The doctor finally sighed and nodded. He looked at Ellen for a split second before turning away and left.
“What did the doctor say?” Portia asked once she had approached Ellen.
Ellen didn’t ask what did the girl talk about with the doctor, since she felt like it was none of her concern, so she said, “Not much has changed.”
“You’ll be alright,” Portia tried to soothe her.
“Easy for you to say,” Ellen spat back.
Portia ignored her and asked, “Where do you wanna go now? Home?”
Ellen was quiet for a moment. Earlier when she talked about Juilliard with the other girl, suddenly she wanted to pay a visit to her piano teacher. It had been a long time since the last time she saw the teacher that had guided her through a lot back then. Ellen rarely had a free time between her working schedule. But, now’s different. Now that she had practically became a disable and jobless, she had all the time in the world to do things she never had time for. Like visiting her teachers and her friends.
“I want to pay a visit to my teacher,” Ellen decided.
“Where’s the house?” Portia asked while fumbling for her key.
“I think right now he’s still at school,” Ellen said. “We’re going to Lincoln Center.”
“Lincoln Center? You mean we’re going to Juilliard?”
“Yes.”
“You know, it’s really hard to find a parking spot there.”
“That’s your business. Just drop me on the main hall, then you can look around for the parking spot. I’ll call you when I’m finished. What’s your number?”
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Talking about music and other fun stuffs with a fun person really made the time went so fast. Ellen and her teacher had been talking for 3 hours long. Reminiscing the past and telling each other about their recent activities. She should’ve done this more often, taking a bit of her free time to relax and not always stressing about work.
“It’s really nice to see you again, Ellen,” said one of her teacher who was already pretty old by now, Mr. Philips, when Ellen said that she should go and not wasting another minute of her teacher’s time. “Come here sometime soon and chat with me. Or when your wrist is already healed, you could come here and show off your skill to the students here. They’d be thrilled if you could be their temporary instructor.”
Ellen laughed. “Of course I will, Mr. Philips. Thank you.”
After she got out of her teacher’s room, Ellen pulled out her phone and called Portia. But the girl didn’t pick up the phone. Ellen tried once more. There was still no answer.
Well, where’s she now? Ellen asked herself. Why didn’t she pick up the phone? Ellen put back her phone on her jean’s pocket. Earlier, that girl had told Ellen that she’d also like to meet some people here while Ellen met her teacher.
Probably that girl was on the dancing studio on the 3rd floor. Since she wasn’t in a hurry and she was in a really good mood after spending the noon with her old teacher, Ellen decided to look around the building she hadn’t visited in a long time while searching for Portia. After all, she had never visited the dancing division on Juilliard. And who knows, maybe she’d meet someone she knew.
That girl wasn’t in the dancing studio on the 3rd floor. But one of the girl whom Ellen asked said, “The senior dancers are on the theater, practicing for the next month’s show. Maybe the person you’re looking for is there.”
Ellen knew the theatre that the girl pointed. After saying her thank you, she walked straight to the theatre. The vast and majestic theatre with the capacity of 993 people was usually used for the shows that the students of Juilliard held. Ellen herself had performed there couple times.
She pushed the door carefully and the waves of the delicate music greeted her. Ellen looked into the theatre from behind the door and observed that the theatre was almost empty beside some numbers of male and female dancers who were practicing on the stage. Ellen sneaked in and stood in the back of the viewers seat rows.
She started to look for Portia inbetween the dancers. But because her position was too far away, she decided to descend the stairs and walked closer to the stage for a clearer view. Her eyes were staring at the dancers one by one, but the girl she was looking for wasn’t in sight. She sighed in annoyance and was about to leave when the music suddenly stopped.
“Okay, let’s take 10!” a woman with a thunder voice exclaimed from the front row of the seat. Ellen got herself wondering whether all of the dancing instructor had that kind of loud voice.
Ellen was already climbing up the stairs when the same woman said again, “And I want you all to meet Portia de Rossi.”
Ellen stopped dead in her track and turned around.
“She’s one of my best dancers from here. I see that some of you have already heard her name before.”
Ellen saw Portia de Rossi stood next to the woman. It seemed like Portia had already changed her clothes and was wearing the thin dancing jacket that Ellen almost sat on earlier in the car.
“Since it happens that she’s paying a visit here, I’ve succeeded upon asking her to show us some moves,” the woman continued. “You can learn a lot from her. So, watch and learn.”
All the dancers on the stage walked to the side and sat there. They looked at Portia in full admiration. Ellen got herself descended the stairs and sat on one of the viewer’s seats in the middle row. She was curious. Actually, her curiosity had emerged the moment she found out that Portia was a graduate of Juilliard. Now, her curiosity had grown more upon hearing the praises that she heard from the instructor.
Portia gave something to the instructor, who handed whatever it was to the man on the side of the stage. A CD, maybe? Ellen couldn’t catch what that was. And then Portia hopped onto the stage with her barefeet, and that was the first time Ellen had ever seen her in a dancing costume.
Tight jacket and tight shorts like almost all the dancers were wearing.
On the stage, some people waved their hands and said something to Portia. Portia waved back and laughed. Then, she took her position on the center of the huge stage. The music started and flowed out from every sides of the theatre. Ellen recognized the song straight away. Una Favola.
As the first tone was waving, so was Portia’s body. Her movements were soft, but under-controlled. The swinging of her arms and legs were graceful, but also strong. Every parts of her body was moving along with the song. Every parts of her was dancing, from the tip of her fingers to the tip of her toes. Even the look on her face was always changing, following the emotion of the dance.
Portia de Rossi’s technique was flawless. She jumped up high like she was floating, she spun around without ever being unsteady. In short, her dancing was beautiful. Ellen had never seen somebody dance like that. She could feel the story that Portia was telling throughout the dance. She could feel her emotion. Her soul. Her heart.
Like everybody in the theatre, Ellen was unable to look away from the girl who was dancing on the stage. It was as though every movements that the girl made, put everybody under a spell. Making everybody stunned.
When the music stopped and so was Portia’s movement, for some seconds there was nothing heard in the theatre. It was complete silence. Then, as if everybody had just woken up from a dream, they started to clap and cheered loudly.
Ellen was still staring at Portia who stood on the stage, swarmed by all the other dancers. Portia seemed to be a bit breathless, but she flashed a wide smile to the people around her.
A graduate from Juilliard was sure as hell could dance beautifully. And Portia de Rossi just danced flawlessly. It was obvious that she danced wholeheartedly. She was succeeded on assuring Ellen that she was a very talented dancer.
But a question remained that left Ellen wondering. A dancer that great should be joining a famous dance club and dance for some really big shows around the world. Then, why did Portia de Rossi chose to teach in a small and unfamous dancing studio?
