Trinity, 1945

“Words can destroy, warp time and space in ways far greater than they were intended.” She wheezed, sucking in air with shallow breaths as she stared out the window. Arms, thin and frail, pulled the blanket up tight against her chest.

“Let me help you.” Father Douglas said, adjusting the blanket to cover the woman. 

The storm outside rumbled, threatening to break through the glass into the small room. 

 “Those words, back at Carmadean’s Dance Camp, deep in the desert near Ruidoso, New Mexico in the summer of ‘45, they changed the direction of my life. I didn’t understand then the impact, the consequences then, but it affected me just as much as the Trinity bomb did, though we didn’t find out about that until later.” She coughed, thick wet hacks, echoing sharp and loud against the linoleum floor and hard walls. “I was 13 years old when the explosion hit, and it changed all our lives forever."  

***********

Rachel didn’t hear the thunderous bang, so much as felt it, a rumble deep in her chest, waking her up after hours twisting and turning on the hard top bunk. The sound seemed to be part of a dream, her fathers gruff voice calling her from across the world, ‘wake up, wake up!’  

With his voice echoing around her, the bed bounced, moving from under her, shifting until it disappeared entirely and then she was airborne, floating toward his voice in the clouds. She reached out, she could fly to him! Then a thud, pain in her elbows, and knee as she landed on the other girls’ bags strewn across the floor.  

Rachel assumed the girls' screams were directed at her, being the fool who fell out of her bunk bed, but when she finally stood, straightening her gingham nightgown to cover the bulges her too-large body made with a sheepish grin, no one noticed.

 All the girls ignored her, focused on the window and the bright light streaming in.

Rachel sighed at being left out again. She loved to watch the musicals, the dancing; Ginger Rogers in “Lady in the Dark’, or Ann Miller, whose shoes were a blur in her routines in ‘Reveille with Beverly’, or ‘Sailors’ Holiday’, her absolute favorite of all because it reminded her of Daddy, gone over three months now. 

 But Rachel couldn’t dance as well as these girls. Built wide like Daddy, her heavy legs only made a dull scuffle that couldn’t match the tight staccato drum beat of the other girls when they tap danced. 

 She couldn’t quite get the spinning down either, the pirouette, and no matter how much she focused her attention at a fixed point, her balance unfixed and she bounced into the girls next to her. 

Mama had sent her to this camp to forget the loss, the death that had rocked her world, escape in what she loved. She knew in her heart no dance camp would solve her problems. How could she forget, how could she smile when Daddy was dead?   

 Ms. Winters slammed the door open as she ran in after the earth quaked. She wore only a thin yellow nightgown. Rachel couldn’t look away from her body exposed under the transparent cotton, loose and floppy underneath.  

 “Everyone OK? What happened!” Ms. Winters screamed, both hands on her loose hair before she ran right back out. Ms. Winters ran a professional ballet company in the winter, and had started this summer camp for girls to relax and dance, away from the big city in the middle of the New Mexico desert.  Always manically happy, anxious or angry, Ms. Winters’ screams didn't upset Rachel as much as the shock to see the woman not in her dance tights, and dress, her hair not coiffed in a perfect bun.  

Rachel winced against the light flooding in as if a thousand light bulbs had been switched on outside. She must have slept in she grimaced, cursing herself. Seen as the worst dancer at the camp, she didn’t want to be thought of as lazy too. The other girls already avoided her, and now it was midday! 

She picked up a bag she had landed on, the contents strewn across the floor.

Everyone envied the beautiful blue carpet bag, only given out to the girls who traveled with the professional ballet company. Some photos spilled out, she collected them fast to stuff them back inside, glancing at the images. The photos of a little girl she recognized as Julie, young and beautiful. A photo of her with a tall man, holding hands and smiling. Another with a woman, a gorgeous spitting image of Julie, but- she put her fingers across the photo, confused. This meant-

She looked up at the rest of the girls, eleven teenagers, all lined up at the window peering out, also still in their pajamas. Rachel stuffed the pictures back in the bag. “What’s going on?” She asked.

“Someone turned on the sun!” Betty exclaimed, her light blue nightgown falling off her narrow shoulders. Giddy energy bubbled in the wood-walled cabin as if they had each eaten through a bag of Jolly Ranchers. The girls jostled to look out into the desert, and the unreal brightness. “Is the sun just early?” Sara asked, her hand up shading her eyes.  

“Maybe it’s a military exercise? We are still at war-” Gertrude scrunched down, her hand over her mouth to cover her teeth, twisted and turned every which way but straight. A growth spurt had shot her up half a foot taller than anyone else, and as she mumbled if she spoke at all, all the girls assumed she was as dumb as she was tall.

“That’s stupid.” Julie said. Julie had an effervescent beauty, bright brown eyes and a tan which made all the other girls jealous. The oldest girl at camp at 16, her full breasts, and wide hips gave her words an importance the other girls wouldn’t have for a couple more years. “It’s just a thunderstorm, of course.”  

“Don’t go outside!” Ms. Winters slammed the door open again. “It’s the end of the world! Oh god, I have to call my mother!” She screamed, leaving again.

Wide eyed, each of the girls looked around, hushed whispers into their neighbors ears. Except for Rachel of course, she stood alone.   

Rachel followed all the girls outside into the bright, cold day. The dazzling blue New Mexico sky covered the desert like an upturned bowl. Huge mountains etched one corner of the horizon and an orange glow hovered in the distance, a hope for a new day. A sparkle in the air, unseen but felt, crackled through each of the dozen girls filling them with boundless energy. All of them marveled at the sunless bright day as they twirled with huge smiles among the dry desert sand and rocks in their pajamas, breaking into small groups of two, and three for pas de deux, and pas de trois ballet dances.

In pure joy Julie found herself without a dance partner, and caught Rachel's eyes with a smile.  

 Julie, who had ignored Rachel, not even looking at her before, now grabbed both of her hands and leaning back, began spinning her around and around.

God had answered her prayers. His immeasurable power had turned night into day, had shifted the ground and her place in it, and she thanked Him breathlessly as she twirled. Rachel threw her head back in pure bliss, her eyes closed against the incandescent blue white sky.

“ What time is it?” Rachel asked when Julia let her go to spin another girl into ecstasy. 

“It’s five in the morning.” Sara answered. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Sara reached out and grabbed Rachel’s hand, her skin soft and warm. Yesterday Sara refused to dance in Rachel’s circle, accepting the kitchen duty instead of having to touch the fat girl who couldn’t dance. Now she pulled her into another spin. Rachel never wanted this amazing and glorious day to end.  

 Ms. Winters told Maria, the cook, to start breakfast early as everyone was up. The girls giggled into their orange juice, and cream-of-wheat at the long tables just outside of the dance studio.

“ I wish my dad could’ve seen this.” Rachel sat on the far edge of the table staring out into the desert.    

“You can tell him about it.” Sara smiled, turning back to her breakfast. . 

“No I can't, he’s dead.” Rachel said, staring at her bare feet collecting dirt. “I can’t tell him nothing. And it's my fault. I had bad thoughts so he caught the fever. He would have lived, but I didn't pray hard enough. ”

Gertrude shook her head. “God works in mysterious ways.” She mumbled into her palm. 

“God can do whatever he wants!” Rachel screamed. “He can snap his fingers and you’re dead.” Tears poured down her cheeks, she stomped the ground again, and again. “Or- wave his hand, and make it rain!”  

Julie laughed. “You’re just a little girl. You don’t know anything.”

 “It’s not your fault. God doesn’t work like that.” Sara said, and reached out to hold Rachel’s hand. 

 The cool morning wind picked up and swirled dust around her legs. Rachel gripped Sara’s hand tight. “You don’t know, Julie! Everything is so easy for you because- you’re beautiful.”

Julie turned to look at Rachel, her chin up. “You don’t know me, what my life is.”

 Rachel wiped the back of her arm against her face, smearing her snot and tears across her cheek. She squeezed Sara’s hand. The comfort of having a friend, finally, a connection, gave Rachel the confidence to use her newfound knowledge as a cudgel.

“I know why you're such a good dancer Julie.” Rachel spoke slow and deliberate, drawing the others in to listen.  

“It’s cause you’re a negro. I saw the pictures in your bag of your mom and your dad. You look just like your mom. She's a negro, and you are too.”  

Her accusation, a bomb dropped in the middle of the table, crashed in silence.  

A few whispers escaped. “Did she really say that?” “It can’t be true?” 

But then Rachel’s words, an uncontrollable force, hot and flammable, exploded. Each girl turned to look at Julie, and saw the truth as she deflated, her face blotchy red with shame. The sharp reality flew out, razor edged shrapnel cutting through skin and bone to land at each girls’ heart.

 They rocked back on their heels as the implications of this new version of Julie rolled through them, and her sudden otherness, as she now belonged to a whole different race of people.

“No!” Gertrude cried out, not in a denial, but in unbelief, so shocked she didn’t even cover her mouth. The blast area grew as each girl understood what Rachel’s words meant. The sobs poured out of Julie, glistening her cheeks with pain. 

Rachel felt a presence behind her and turned to see Ms. Winters, her arms folded tight against her chest, a sneer etched across her face. “You lied to me!” She shouted at Julie. “You put my company at risk!” 

A few white flakes floated down over the girls. . 

“Is it snowing?” Sara asked.

“You’re so dumb.” Julie sneered, her hands waving at the sky. “There are no clouds, it’s the middle of summer!” 

Sara jumped up, stepped into a neat pirouette, and then a cartwheel, spinning upside down and then right side up, straight arms and legs, into another, and another and then turning on a single hand to drop into a roundoff, standing up her hands wide. Her face tilted up into the blue sky. 

“I just felt something on my face!" Sara cried.

Julie collected the little white flakes on her hand, the little white particles dusting her arms, shoulders and hair. She pressed the flakes to her face and shook with tears

“Snow is frozen ice, cold. This snow is warm. I don’t think-” Gertrude said, her hands out, reaching up.  

Rachel looked at her new friend, the first girl who has talked to her, had touched her. She had to defend her. She rubbed her hands together and then pressed the flakes into her face and neck.  

“It feels kind of good!” She said, closing her eyes, then a lighting bolt of an idea.

“It’s summer snow! Rachel said, her eyes connected to Sara. They were a team now, and teammates worked together. “Summer snow is warm, of course.” 

“My dad told me about snow, you can stick out your tongue and catch the snowflakes in your mouth.” Sara’s tongue reached down to her chin as she spun in place.

“I got one!” Rachel said, her head back, eyes closed as the flakes floated gently down. “They don’t taste good though”. She spat at the ground.

“Come on, let's go to Cedar Creek!” Sara cried out.   

"Ms. Winters! It's snowing! Can we go to Cedar Creek?”

Ms. Winters looked up into the sky, strain and worry outlined in deep wrinkles on her face, not exactly sure what snow was either. “Yes, you all go. Julie, I need to talk to you.” She glowered at her once- star pupil. “Be back for dinner girls.  

Rachel and Sara had their bathing suits on in moments and were the first ones out the door to the path that led down to Cedar creek.

“Isn’t this the best- we’re so lucky!“ Rachel laughed. They held hands, dancing together as the warm flakes rained around them, changing their lives forever.    

************

She breathed in her oxygen mask. Two deep breaths. Her story still echoed in the small room. Father Douglas sat still in his black robes, his white collar cutting in his neck.

“What about the rest of the girls from the camp? God, you were so close to the bomb test!” Father Douglas asked.

“I’m the last one, they all died.”

"Well, in your 36 years you have lived a full life!" He said. "The Free Negro Dance Company, and then integrating the San Francisco Ballet- you're a legend Julie." Father Douglas beamed.

She smiled at the thought of her good friends Gertrude and Bonnie. "I remember them all, especially Rachel."

Father Douglas leaned over the over the 36 year old woman racked with cancer. He held her hand, careful to avoid the tubes in her wrist.  He began to pray.

Rain rumbled a fast staccato beat against the window.

“Our father, who art in heaven...”