Chapter 20: Changes in Latitudes
Private Ice is Best Viewed in Firefox.
"What will I be listening to?"
"Claude Debussy's Sonata for Violin and Piano in G Minor. Give me a signal when it's as loud as you can stand."
If you're going to play something that is anything at all like Claire de Lune, then "audible" is as loud as I can stand. Gina had never liked Debussy. His music was too pretty, too much slipping from chord to chord without much complexity of sound. Then she began to listen to, really listen to the sonata that was willing her head. This was a completely different Debussy than she was used to. It was simple, yes, just a violin and a piano, but this tune was pared down to be stark, bleak even. The violin was haunting--calling out for help but the piano didn't harmonize, it was counterpoint. The music was back and forth between increasing volume and then sudden silence, and Gina could do nothing but simply listen to it. It compelled her to listen. It reached into her mind and filled every crevice until there was nothing left except the music.
When the movement ended, Gina considered the piece. To skate to such a song would be nearly impossible. Every moment would have to be sharp, crisp... and fast. Gina couldn't think of any skater today who would have been able to pull this music off. A professional skater might have gained the skills to handle it, but Gina couldn't see Etienne, or Sandi Madison, or even Akiko Kikusawa skating to this music. Among the current eligibles... definitely not Donna or Ryan O'Connor; SuZhen Li, perhaps... Lisa Truong, well of all the skaters Gina could think of, Lisa had the best combination of technique and artistry-but Lisa had quit skating altogether, to concentrate on her pre-medical studies. No, she knew of no one who could do justice to this music. And Jonathan was right-if he had used this music in Lillehammer, he might very well have created a legend that no one would ever be able to live up to. She glanced over to tell him how much she loved the music (in spite of it being by Debussy).
The look in his eyes stunned her speechless. It was as if she were a butterfly pinned to a velvet tray--every inch of her inside and out lying naked before him. She blushed from the soles of her feet all the way up her entire body, and for a moment it seemed that time froze.
But before she could react or even fathom exactly what she was seeing, the look was gone. It was as if he had swiftly drawn a curtain over his face. For a moment, she felt bereft and lonely. In completely dispassionate tones, he said, "I'd better take you home now or you'll be too exhausted to practice tomorrow."
What just happened? she thought, and then realized the import of his words. A quick check at the LCD clock readout on the VCR had Gina in complete agreement with that statement. Two a.m.! Jean and her father must be wondering what had happened to her.
When Gina let herself into the house about thirty minutes later, after a wordless drive home, the downstairs was silent. Except for Emma, who was practicing her Pitiful Starving Kitty Cat Dance, there was no sign of anyone waiting for her. "Alright," she whispered to the cat, "I'll take care of it." She slipped out of her shoes and put them under the coat tree and then padded quietly into the kitchen. Gina looked at the food dish, which had a quite a few pebbles of dry Cat Chow remaining. She gave the cat an accusing glare, but Emma merely planted herself by the dish and meowed plaintively.
Gina supposed that translated as, It's stale. "I'm such a pushover," she said to the cat, as she poured in a few more grains of kibble. Emma leaped upon the new food and proceeded to munch noisily. "You're welcome, you little beggar."
"Gina, is that you?" Jean's voice came from somewhere in the middle of the landing. Gina popped her head out of the kitchen and waved at her stepmother, who was looking none too alert in a fuzzy green bathrobe and purple slippers.
"Yes, I'm home."
"Did you have a nice visit with Cyndie?" This statement was punctuated by a huge yawn. "No, tell me about it in the morning. G'night." She turned and headed back up the staircase, thus saving Gina from the dilemma of either having to lie about her whereabouts or start a long conversation that it was too late for anyway. They would talk in the morning.
She opened the refrigerator and stared unseeingly at its contents. She was slightly hungry, but it might be the before bed tired hungry. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep right now, though. Probably the result of the combination of excitement and iced tea, she assumed. The contents of the frig stared back at her, but nothing looked terribly appetizing. Milk would be a good idea, but they were out of milk. Eventually, she grabbed a small carton of fat-free yogurt, closed the fridge, and then opened the pantry door and retrieved a box of Rice Krispies. Cereal and yogurt would just about hit the spot, she figured. She poured a large serving into one of the cobalt bowls Jean had fallen in love with in an antique store in Lancaster and then emptied a carton of peach yogurt on top of that. The cereal fizzed happily.
Attracted by the noise, Emma jumped up on the counter, but Gina rescued her snack just in time. "Mine!" The cat just gave her an affronted look and stared at her from the floor. Gina ignored the little beast. Grabbing a clean spoon from the open dishwasher (left open as a blatant "empty me" hint), she leaned back against the sink and considered her "nearly 3 am and still awake" options. There was always the hope of an interesting late movie on television--which then reminded her that Cody had a copy of the 1993 World Championships in his possession (It was the only year Cyndie and I got to go-of course I have it on tape! But they only televised our free dance.). Gina had never seen the event as it had taken place during the year she was avoiding even hearing about skating. But according to all reports she's heard later, the men's competition had been one of the best events ever, more exciting than even the infamous Battle of the Brians in 1988.
After her conversation with Jonathan tonight, she was curious to see this event. As it had been at least six years since she'd seen him skate, she really couldn't remember anything specific. Just that he had been technically brilliant.... And mesmerizing. As for Etienne, his showmanship was always entertaining; Gina had been a fan of his for years. Ok, admit it, Gina, more than a fan. Well, why shouldn't she admire him? He was an excellent skater, always knowing exactly how to bring an audience to their feet. It was fun to watch him skate; no one ever knew what he was going to come up with next. Gina appreciated that kind of creativity. And he's adorable and nice and sweet and funny and... oh boy... dating Donna. Still, she could guiltlessly drool over him on video tape.
With Emma hot on her heels (or, more likely, on the heels of the cereal), Gina went into the den. Leaving the lights out, by the glow of the VCR she managed to one-handedly get a tape cued up. She sat down on the floor in front of the couch, turned the tape on, hit pause, got up, and retrieved the spoon from the kitchen counter, narrowly avoiding tripping over the cat every step of the way.
Finally ready, she sat back down again. After a preparatory bite of the cereal and yogurt combination-which she could almost convince herself that it tasted like peach pie-she reactivated the tape and began to re-educate herself on Jonathan and Etienne's career. And it truly was an education, because the broadcast was chock-full of media hype.
The men's night began with a retrospective of the previous year's Olympics, showing Jonathan, in black slacks, a loose white silk shirt, and red sash around his waist, doing the final scratch spin to Chopin's "Revolutionary Etude." Over the roar of the crowd, Dick Button could be heard, crowing, "Now that is the way a scratch spin should be done. A perfect ending to a fine, fine performance." And Jonathan, with a look of triumph and happiness in his eyes as the scores of 5.9s and 6.0s came up for Artistic Impression, while Peggy Fleming stated, "That is going to be very difficult for Etienne LeClerc to beat, but they left a tiny bit of room."
The broadcast instantly segued into highlights from Etienne's 92 program, showing him doing a fast and complex footwork sequence with haunting violin music in the background, and then, just as Peggy said, "He's skating beautifully," he fell on the second jump of a triple axel-triple toe combination.
What music is he skating to?
Only half listening to the voice over, which explained that that one error might have cost Etienne the Olympic medal, Gina scrambled to find her 1992 Olympic tape. Gina didn't really remember Etienne's program from that year, but even from that snippet, it didn't seem to have been the kind of skating she was used to seeing from him in more recent history.
Quickly, she popped the Olympic tape in and fast-forwarded to Etienne's long program. But unfortunately, this was before ABC Sports was actually telling the viewers what the program music was (Jean would probably know, though). Gina didn't recognize it at all, although once she watched the program, she could hear similarities between Etienne's music and Jonathan's favored Debussy. This piece was lighter, less dramatically complex, and called for quicker, shorter movements--but it was classical, and it was a violin sonata of some kind. Well, I certainly don't ever remember Etienne skating to this kind of music! And, she thought, backing the tape up to watch Jonathan's Chopin piece, if Etienne hadn't fallen, he very well might have won the Gold Medal. The performances were that close. That in itself was a surprise, for the common mindset was that Jonathan Griffin had always been unbeatable and very likely would have remained that way for some time.
A slurping sound interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to see that the Piggy Kitty had moved in on her cereal. "Emma!"
But she was more interested in the tapes anyway. Something odd was going on, but she couldn't quite frame her ideas into words yet. Gina had always taken it for granted that Etienne versus Jonathan had been the battle of a technically brilliant entertainer against a technically strong artist. But 1992, now that she had watched it again, had not been that way. Was 1993 more of the same story?
She put the 1993 Worlds tape back in, and pushed Emma and the food out of the way. The pre-competition hype continued, basically it was an attempt to create tension over whether or not Jonathan could hold off Etienne this year. "Actually, Emma, this is pretty silly," Gina said, as the music from Rocky began to play, and images of Etienne and Jonathan, both wearing boxer's robes were superimposed on the screen. Then an overly elegant graphic bearing the words, "1993 World Figure Skating Championships," scrolled across the screen, followed by a live shot of Dick Button and Peggy Fleming in the broadcast booth over the rink.
Gina grabbed a pillow and a quilt from the couch and made herself comfortable again. She figured she must be in that zone of wide-awake that followed total exhaustion.
After the obligatory introduction, Dick got straight to the point. "The big question tonight is, can Jonathan Griffin become the next three-time world champion? Or will Etienne LeClerc finally end his perennial bridesmaid status and bring the Gold medal home to France?"
"Possibly not home to France," Peggy said. "Only three months ago, Etienne suddenly switched coaches and moved to Colorado Springs after having problems with the French Federation. They took away his funding, and for a while it looked like he might not even be able to afford to continue." Gina hadn't known about that, although she was aware that Etienne had been training in the United States for quite some time.
Dick picked up where Peggy left off. "Etienne did have a very rough Autumn season, and didn't even win his own nationals. But as of last month, he was skating much stronger, and he won the European Championships in Copenhagen. Meanwhile, Jonathan has seemed virtually unbeatable, winning the NHK Trophy and the Piruetten Cup, and more recently, the US Nationals six weeks ago. And of course we shouldn't discount two young Russian skaters--"
Gina fast-forwarded through the rest of the introductions--the two young Russians in question had never overtaken either Jonathan or Etienne. Over the mechanical whir, she could hear the crunch of tires on the driveway, and a set of headlights swept across the room, and then dimmed. A motor idled for a bit. Jocelyn, dropping Cody off, Gina assumed. Emma, who had become convinced that Cody was her person (much to Cody's dismay), leaped to attention and then dashed to the door, fur quivering in anticipation.
At least five minutes later, she heard the car door open and shut and then the sound of footsteps coming up the walk. Gina considered getting up to open the door, but she was too ensconced to move. Maybe he'd go right up to bed. She rested her head back on the sofa and waited through the sound of keys jingling, the door slowly inching open and then shut, the snick of a deadbolt lock, the swish of a boot being pulled off, then dropped with a clunk, then another with a more muffled clunk immediately followed by a loud MEOOOOOOW!!!!
A streak of gray fur shot across Gina's lap and burrowed under a chair on the far side of the room, where it stopped and settled in a ball of annoyed puff.
"Emma!" Cody stage whispered from the doorway. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. Kitty? Kitty?" He gave a low whistle.
Gina laughed to herself. So much for the story about hating cats, Neill. You're a pushover. Then, as Cody entered the room, before he could potentially repeat his clumsiness on her, Gina said, "She's hiding under the chair in Full Loaf position."
Cody flicked on the light and peered over the back of the couch. "What are you doing still up?" He then went over to the chair and got down on all fours. "Are you ok? Did I break your tail?"
Even from halfway across the room, Gina could have sworn she heard the cat give a sniff. "I'm still too awake to sleep," she said, in answer to the question he'd addressed to her.
"Ok, I've got you-OW!-No, I don't. Fine. Be that way. Just like a fem-line." He rocked back to his feet and then went over to the couch and sat down behind Gina. "Oh, you've got the 93 tape in. What did you think of the Free Dance?"
"Haven't gotten to it yet. I think I just went past the men's short programs." Gina stopped the tape just in time to see Terrence Stafford fall out of a salchow. Ack. She started speeding through again.
"You couldn't have. It wasn't shown that year. They only showed the long programs for everyone except the Ladies'. Oh, I remember this competition. The Battle of the Shakespeares."
"The what?"
"It's coming up in a sec... that was the name the hype machine gave it. Instead of the battle of the Brians or the battle of the Carmens, this was the year of the battling Shakespeares. Well, there you are you little furball," he added as Emma trotted out from under the chair and hopped into his lap. "I knew if I ignored you, you'd come out. Oh, here it is, rewind a few and then hit play."
She did as he suggested.
"At the moment, Dmitri Shabayev is the leader followed by Terrance Stafford and Yvgeny Obradovich. Coming up next, Etienne LeClerc will once again attempt to wrest the Gold away from Jonathan Griffin. And for the first time in three years, Etienne actually has a lead going into the long program. But as you recall, the long program is worth two thirds of the final score, so whoever wins tonight, will be the newest World Champion. We'll have the final two programs when we return," Dick said.
Gina hit forward again. "I'm still surprised I missed watching this the first time around." Well, no she wasn't. This event had occurred during the custody battle, and Gina had had other things on her mind by then anyway.
"This was probably one of the best World Championships ever. I still remember every second of their short programs. Shit, Gina, they were both magnificent. I would have hated to've been judging that day. Griffin skated to Shenandoah and the audience was on its feet almost the entire time. I didn't think anything could top that, but then three skaters after that Etienne skated to-let me see if I can remember, it was a classical piece. Ode to Joy... Anyway, he was totally into his music. Just one of those performances where you can tell the skater is transformed by the music. A quiet hush just came over everyone in the building."
Ode to Joy? That was it... that was the element that was tickling at her brain. She started to ask him, but then-
"Stop, here's the funny bit. The Shakespeare stuff," Cody said.
The tape clicked into action again. "Before Etienne's program, let's take a moment to compare what you'll be seeing from the two men," Peggy said.
A blue screen with a little chart appeared. "Both men have seven triples and a quad planned tonight," Dick narrated, as a list of jumps appeared under each man's name. Gina could see that both Etienne and Jonathan had planned solo quad toes, triple flips, triple loops, triple axels, and triple salchows. Jonathan was also doing a triple axel-triple toe, and a triple lutz-double toe, while Etienne was doing a triple salchow-triple loop, and a triple flip-double loop. Based on jump content, Gina thought that Jonathan had a slightly more difficult program-but there was much more to skating than jumps. "As you can see, Jonathan is taking a risk with that treacherous triple axel combination."
"What is interesting is that both men are playing characters from Shakespearean plays," Peggy said. "Etienne is using a more classic piece, music from Felix Mendelssohn's A Midsummer Night's Dream, while Jonathan has chosen to use music from Paul Chihara's modern ballet, The Tempest. He told me he will be skating the role of Prospero, the banished wizard."
"And Etienne is portraying a concept: that the course of love ne'er did run smooth," Dick said.
"But hopefully the course of his skating will," Peggy said.
"Very shortly we'll discover which man is to be or not to be the 1993 World Champion," Dick said.
"Boooooo!" Cody said to the television. "It wasn't funny back then, and it's still not funny. A pun by any other name would smell as bad."
"Shut up!" Gina said, pulling the pillow out from behind her and throwing it at him. "It's starting."
Etienne appeared on the screen, wearing a bizarre jumpsuit-the basic material was black, but it looked like he'd stood in the middle of a room and had people flick red, blue, purple, green, and orange paint at him. But his skating made Gina forget about the ugly costume. Yes, he was nailing the jumps-but there was a total connection to the music too, which made the jumps appear to be simply part of the background. Dick Button, however, found something to criticize in the sit spin position.
Something was off though; it was nothing she could quite put into words... but the 1993 Etienne was a completely different skater when compared to the Etienne she knew now. Usually, skaters grew artistically. He apparently had gone in an unexpected direction. "Cody? Does something seem odd to you about this program?"
"Besides the costume?"
"Yeah." Like Cody had any right to talk about costume ugliness, she thought to herself.
"Nope. The footwork is a bit simplistic-wait 'til you see Griffin's. Otherwise it's a great program. Probably the best he's ever done." He leaned over her shoulder and grabbed the bowl of cereal-yogurt. "You gonna finish this?"
"The cat got it."
"Figures." He put the bowl on the end table. "One of my ex-girlfriends used to eat cereal and yogurt all the time. Got me hooked on it."
Gina didn't bother trying to trace the thought process that had led him to that point. She turned back to the TV and watched the scores flash across the screen. 5.8 and 5.9 technical, and 5.9's and 6.0's for artistic impression. Dick and Peggy started talking about just what Jonathan would have to do in order to best those marks. Easy-be perfect.
And that was exactly what he did. As brash as Etienne's costume was, Jonathan's was more subdued, a simple pair of black pants and a loose indigo blue silk shirt (the exact color of his eyes), with shiny little planets and stars embossed with sequins. He began with his arms crossed in front of him with his hands on his shoulders, which had the effect of making it look like he was wearing a cape. He held that arm position until right before the quad toe, so that on the check out of the landing, he looked like he had just exploded into motion. By the time the program ended, Gina was convinced that Jonathan was Shakespeare's Prospero. He was fantastic! And this man is your coach now, Gina!
"Brilliant," Dick Button pronounced. "Absolutely brilliant."
"But is it enough to overtake Etienne?" Peggy asked.
"I think so," Dick said.
"The Great and Powerful Oz has spoken," Cody said from above her.
"Well, we know that it was," Gina said. But now that she'd finally gotten to see both programs, she realized just how incredibly close the competition had been that night. Jonathan's program was dramatic and moody-but on an aesthetic level it wasn't any more "artistic" than Etienne's had been. Jonathan's technique was slightly better, his spins were just a little faster, and his footwork was more complex (although Etienne had done a very good job with the "simpler" footwork). And when the marks came up, straight 5.9s for technique and, like Etienne, a mixture of 5.9's and 6.0's for artistic interpretation, it was five judges to four in favor of Jonathan. "I had no idea how close Etienne came to winning that."
"Griffin always did have the dramatic and artistic role down pat," Cody said as he snatched the remote control out of her hands and began forwarding the tape. "But Etienne was no slouch either. Dance should be right after this."
Gina had wanted to see the medal ceremony, but she supposed she could wait until Cody went to bed. "I think Etienne is fantastic. He's been my favorite skater for a long time-and the way that he moves out there..." she broke off with a blush, but since her back was to Cody, it didn't really matter. "But, here's the weirdness. This might sound a bit confusing because I'm trying to think this through-you're right, this is the best I've even seen him skate. And this competition happened five years ago. This competition he skated to Beethoven and Mendelssohn, and the year before the Olympics it was also something classical. What's he skated to in the five years since then?"
Cody was quiet for a moment. "Ok, this year, it was music from Les Miserables ...and um... and of course I remember spaghetti western thing with the Moricionne music... and didn't he do Jurassic Park one year? Oh yeah, and he did Braveheart in 1997, because I remember there were costume issues in the Champion Series Final because of the make-up and the skirt. Let's see what am I forgetting? That's right, there was a James Bond theme one year."
"Right. All soundtrack stuff. Don't you find that to be an artistic step backwards?" She turned to look at him.
He shrugged. "Not really. Audiences get more involved when they recognize the music. It's no big deal. Besides, remember he switched coaches that year. Maybe his new coach picked out all the program music."
Gina thought there was more to it than that-but it was after three in the morning. She was tired... maybe she was just seeing things. Maybe she was just imagining this stuff because she wanted to have an insight into Etienne's personality. Maybe she was just going insane.
"Turn around Gina, and watch the Neill siblings show you what Ice Dance is really about."
On the TV, resplendent in fringed red outfits, Cody and Cyndie were skating to the center of the ice. "Cyndie Neill and Cody Neill of the United State of America," said a voice in heavily accented English.
"This is a young team, and they're currently in 19th place," Peggy said, "but they have a lot of potential."
"They'll be skating to the music of Aaron Copland," Dick added.
Their names, ages, and heights were flashed across the screen. "They spelled your name wrong," Gina said, noticing that Neill was spelled 'N-i-e-l-l'."
"Everyone spells it wrong-they've been doing that since our first competition. In fact half the time I spell it wrong." The music from Rodeo began, and Cyndie and Cody started skating arm in arm across the ice.
"They have an energetic quality, but I think the judges will mark them down for too much side-by-side skating," Dick said.
"Shut up, Dick," Cody said.
"Did they?" Gina asked. The routine was nice, but, the footwork was fairly simplistic, and Cyndie looked like she was holding her arms too stiffly.
"Hell, yes."
"And look at this lift," Dick continued. "Cody is doing some strong footwork here, and you don't always see that on a lift, but look at her feet. She has got to point those toes."
"Shut up, Dick!" Cody said again. He shifted around restlessly.
"You know," Gina said, before Cody could throw something-like the cat-at the television. "I think Megan might end up being a better partner for you than Cyndie. At least Megan seems more comfortable with the face to face skating and backward footwork."
He let out a huff of air. "Yeah, by the time we had gotten to this point, I don't think Cyndie really enjoyed skating anymore. At first, when we were little kids, it was a blast, but later on, she resented all the time she had to put into it. She never got to be a teenager, never got to go to college-she put her whole life into Neill and Neill, but she knew we'd never make the top five, or even the top ten. I was the one who kept pressuring her to keep going. If I hadn't been her brother, she'd have quit a lot sooner."
Good assessment, Gina thought, returning her attention to the television. Cody looked happy to be on the ice, but Cyndie seemed just a little bit labored. When they reached their final pose, she actually looked relieved.
"A creditable effort for their first World Championships," Dick said.
"Shut up, Dick," Cody said one last time, but Gina had the feeling that it was just habit that made him repeat the phrase. He stretched, his joints popping loudly. "Well, I'm gonna mosey, now. It's been a too long day."
"But you had a nice evening though, right?" Gina said, suddenly curious as to why he had come home at all. From the way he and Jocelyn had been acting, she would have thought that he would have spent the night. But maybe, once again, she was misreading the situation.
"I had a great evening," Cody said. "The exhibition went very well, the party was a blast, and Jocelyn is a lot of fun. A great girl. Yes, she's really a great girl. Woman. She's fun." He picked up her cereal bowl. "I'll drop this off in the sink. It tends to dry like glue." He stood up and ambled towards the kitchen, Emma a close distance behind. "Oh, if I didn't tell you before, super job tonight. Keep skating, Gina, you've definitely got a better chance at the gold than I ever did. Good night."
"Night," Gina said, thinking that 'fun' and 'great' didn't really bode well for Jocelyn. Or maybe it was a guy thing to act less serious. Or maybe, once again she was overanalyzing. She rewound the tape, and before Cody's footsteps had completely dopplered upstairs out of range, she was watching Etienne and Jonathan's programs once again.
"Transformed by the music," Cody had said.
Yes, that was it. Not just transformed by the music...both Etienne and Jonathan, in spite of the different moods of their programs, were reveling in the joy it was to skate, to fly with blades on your feet, to be a part of the music.
Transformed by joy.
That's how I want to skate. I want to be transformed by joy.
Not even bothering with the remote, she waited out five commercials while she pondered the concept. How do you let go of yourself enough to give your soul over to the music and the audience, and yet keep enough of yourself so that you don't get lost? And once you learned how to do that, could you make sure you never forgot?
Three men on the podium: Jonathan in the middle, flanked by Etienne and Dmitri Shabayev. Shabayev as impassive as ever, Etienne with what looked like hurt in his eyes as he gazed upon the color of his silver medal, and ... Jonathan... smiling... completely happy. Joy. Would he ever have the look on his face again? He shook Dmitri's hand, and then turned to Etienne and his smile grew even wider. He took hold of Etienne's wrist and pulled him to the top of the podium, so that the two stood on an equal level. Etienne looked surprised for just a moment, and then he hugged the gold medalist.
"Would you look at that," Dick said, as the crowd erupted in loud cheers.
"I think Jonathan is acknowledging that he wouldn't be on the top if Etienne hadn't been pushing him all the way," Peggy said.
"And the fact that in almost any other competition, Etienne's performances would have been more than enough to win."
The opening notes of The Star Spangled Banner began to play, and the camera superimposed a shot of the three flags raising over their faces. And then Gina was sure that she hadn't been imagining or overanalyzing anything at all. This frozen moment would never be repeated, except on the medium of video tape. Jonathan would never stand atop a podium again-but Gina had already known that. But something had happened to Etienne too... Gina didn't know when it happened, what it was, she didn't even know if Etienne was aware of it. Yes, he was the best skater in the world; he had proven that five times over. And he was still a showman and an entertainer and probably even technically better now than he had been in 1993. But...after that year, Etienne had never again skated with the artistry, the passion, the joy that he had in this competition and in the Olympics the year before. But...why not?
Earlier that evening, and now it seemed like weeks had passed since she'd spoken with Etienne on the balcony, he talked about being happy to be out on the ice. No... that wasn't it. He talked about how people said he looked happy to be out there. And looking happy wasn't the same as being happy. But either way, happiness wasn't joy. Joy was something more, something infinite and intangible, something necessary and enriching.
Something that Etienne had lost.
Text Copyright © 1999-2000 Karen Frank
