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Show Moon - 62 she could draw them better, trying to find the underneath of the world that made it real, to see it in its bones. She discovered, for example, that what makes a face seem real was not so much the outline as the shadow. And nothing was ever just one color. Grass, if you looked at it long enough, was every color in the world. And ballet. Joy wrapped her arms around the music like it was the trunk of a tree, let the sounds carry her to the top where she became as weightless as a bird. Her body was flawed, with a spine not quite straight-probably inherited from Ruth-and feet that rolled inward, her hamstrings stiffer than most. But, perhaps because she was outside their circle, she was able more than the other girls to let the feeling of the dance take over her body and transform it into something beautiful. She was given the main solo parts for an upcoming recital. It would be her first performance and she'd get to wear a costume white and frothy as an angel cloud. She practiced every day. Stretching and doing grand plies, she worked as if her life depended on it, which perhaps it did. There came, too, light for the spirit. One day Joy tiptoed into the neighborhood Catholic church on the way home from school to see the inside. She was astonished, for this was so unlike the church James took them to with its plain white pews and stark walls. Here were row upon row of votive candles sparkling like stars. In the window was an enormous stained-glass angel, her arms spread wide as if to lift her up and carry her home in a soft rush of wings like a plume of smoke. She knelt down in front of a statue of the Virgin, hoping no one would question her right to do this. It was wonderful to think of a mother to pray to, a |
