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Show Moon -198 chenille robe. Her gray hair streams over her shoulders and I see even more what Uncle Michael must have seen. "I called him." She envelops me in a wonderful hug. It occurs to me that David and I forgot to describe ourselves. How will we know each other? This next part I'm not sure I'm going to get right. That's always the case; that ought to go without saying. But important scenes are especially tempting to paint in wild colors, so maybe I can get closer to the truth if I make myself back into a third person, vanish myself into the horizon where the imagination allows the impossible to happen-for two straight lines to meet. Be patient. My artist isn't finished with me yet. David is seated in a booth facing the door. Joy knows it's him because for a stunning moment she thinks he's her Uncle Michael-the same shock of white hair, the same dark eyes, the same wiry build. She stands for a moment, pretending to look around the restaurant to gain some time. But he stands up and waves, though she can't imagine how he knows who she is. She feels like she's on a ship; the band is playing, people are weeping and waving, and any moment the boat will slip off into the sea. She stands up straight like her mother always said she should, worries about how her hair looks, wants not to disappoint him. Finally she goes to him. He has a brilliant smile and eyes that seem to take in everything at once. He offers his hand, bows just enough to be both ironic and respectful. |