Her attitude about me often made me wonder if Daddy had the same thoughts when he looked at me. I was caught in a maddening cycle. The more depressed I became about myself, the more I abused myself, and the abuse continued to make me distasteful to myself.
It's got to end, I thought. I need self-discipline. To punctuate my conclusions. I dropped to the floor and began to go through a battery of exercises Brenda had once designed for me: leg lifts, sit-ups, trunk twists, even jogging in place until my heart was pounding and I was sweating so much, my body was slippery. Then I took a shower, instead of a bath, and scrubbed at my rolls of fat so hard, someone would think I was trying to shave them off.
Tired, but surprisingly happy about it. I dressed and went down to dinner, determined to push away the delicious but fattening foods Mrs. Westington had prepared. She would be upset. but I would stand my ground. She was sure to see the determination in my face and retreat.
However, instead of being upset with me. Mrs. Westington had an amused look on her face when I limited my portion of mashed potatoes to a teaspoon and I took no bread and butter. I ate only the chicken and vegetables and drank a glass of water. Once in a while I caught her and Trevor exchanging glances. I absolutely refused to eat any dessert, especially her homemade blackberry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I was dying to have it, but I slammed down the lid hard on my gluttony,
"Aren't you feeling all right, dear?" Mrs. Westington asked me. "You're not eating very much."
"I'm fine, I have to lose weight." I said. "My sister reminded me when we spoke," I added, even though she hadn't.
"Oh. Well, your sister is looking after your best interests. I'm sure," she said. I thought I saw her wink at Trevor.
Echo appeared to be mimicking my eating, however, and that did annoy Mrs. Westington. I quickly signed to her that I had to lose weight. She didn't. She remembered
I
had told her I had no boyfriend because I was too fat.
"You want a boyfriend now?" she asked me through her "No." I told her. "I just want to like myself."
She looked skeptical and then she ate normally.
That night, after dinner, while Echo was doing her homework, I returned to the motor home by myself. I stepped in quietly, flicked on the light switch, and closed the door behind me. Then I went into the living room and sat on the sofa across from Destiny. Now that Mrs. Westington had given me permission to do so. I decided I would take her into the house and up to my room after all. I couldn't help thinking she was lonely, but maybe I was just projecting my own loneliness. Any day now, our attorney would be calling to tell me to get the motor home ready for auction anyway. I'd have to come here and pack away all that was inside, the linens, dishes, books, and mementos that had belonged to Uncle Palaver. I had to decide what of that I wanted to keep and what I wanted to give away or sell.
To me it looked like Destiny was sitting there anticipating something very dramatic would be done with her. I imagined the doll missing Uncle Palaver.
I
was thinking like a little girl who talked to her doll as if the doll were alive. As children we could pretend and no one would think it was anything but cute, but at a certain age, all make-believe had to stop abruptly or else we'd be considered abnormal. And yet we all talk to ourselves as if there were someone else there, as if we were two people, chastising ourselves for doing something stupid, complimenting ourselves for doing something good. We need to talk to ourselves, don't we? I thought. The doll just made it easier in a real way.
"It's time to go," I told Destiny. "Time to leave. Uncle Palaver's never coming back. We're alone in the world, you and I. We have only each other now. I can't imagine Brenda liking my bringing you into her home. but I promise. I won't go anywhere without you,"
I fought the temptation to throw my voice and have Destiny reply to me just the way Uncle Palaver often did. If I did that. I would surely scare myself. I thought, and sighed deeply. I looked around. I really had to beg-in organizing things in here. Maybe tomorrow I'd ask Trevor to give me some of the cartons he had for the cases of wine and I, would label everything after I had packed it away.
I looked at my watch. Carrying Destiny back to the house and up the stairs to my bedroom would be quite a sight. I wanted Echo to be asleep and even Mrs. Westington to be in her room. I'll just wait, I thought. I was going to turn on the little television set and rose to do so, when
I
heard a gentle tapping at the motor home door.
It surprised me.
"Who could that be?" I asked Destiny.
I rose and opened the door to see Tyler Monahan standing there.
"Hi," he said.
"What are you doing back here?" I asked.
He showed me a videotape. "I thought you could use this. It's a tape
I
forgot I had, a tape of sign instruction. It will make it easier and quicker for you to learn," he said.
"Oh. Thanks." I didn't move and he didn't move. "How did you know I was here?"
"I asked for you at the house and Mrs. Westington said she thought you had gone out for a walk. I saw the lights on in the mobile home."
"How did you get away from work?"
"We're closed for inventory. I forgot," he said. He started to look annoyed at my questions and then gazed past me. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"I've got to get started on packing. I was just thinking about everything. The call could come any day to put the motor home up for auction and I'll have to get everything personal out of it."
He nodded and just stood there. I realized how silly it was talking to each other over the small stairway.
"Come on in if you want." I said. I backed away and he came in, closing the door behind him. He glanced at Destiny.
"I still can't let over that doll. You do wonders with it," he said, then looked about. I meant to ask you where you slept when you traveled with your uncle. On the sofa?"
"No, up there." I said, nodding at the bunk above the driver's seat.
"Oh. I guess you couldn't toss and turn too much," he said, looking up at it.
"I'm not a light sleeper. but I never fell out. Would you like something to drink? I know we still have some sodas in the refrigerator." I went to it and looked. "Cokes and ginger ales."
"No, that's all right, thanks," he said. He placed the videotape on the coffee table and looked again at Destiny. "It's funny, but it seems like her eyes move with you as you move about."
"I know.
-
"I never saw anything like it. Those lips look soft."
"They are. As you saw, she's soft wherever she is supposed to be." I said.
He looked like he wanted to see for himself, but I didn't give him permission to touch her. He hovered about her, looking at her ears, her fingers.
"She has pierced ears. too?"
"Yes. Occasionally, Uncle Palaver put earrings on her, depending upon the outfits, the show. You can take her pulse if you want," I said. It had always intrigued me.
"What? Take her pulse? You're kidding."
I shook my head and he brought his fingers to her wrist slowly. His eyes widened.
"How..."
"Something electrical run by the batteries to simulate a heartbeat. Stagehands used to get a real kick out of it, but they couldn't touch her when Uncle Palaver was around."
"What was the point of having that?"
I didn't answer. I knew the point. The more she resembled the real Destiny, the happier Uncle Palaver could be. I wouldn't even begin to tell him other things, like when he gave her a bath or brushed her teeth, things I had seen him do, but never mentioned to him or asked him about for fear of embarrassing him. In those earlier days when I was with him. I had one fear and that was I would upset him too much and he would send me back to Brenda or leave me on some street corner in some village.
Tyler sat on the sofa and shook his head at Destiny. Then he looked up at me as though lie just remembered I was there. too.
"So where did you live before you went to live with your sister in Memphis?" he asked.
"A small community called Hickory about ninety miles from Memphis. My father was an attorney there. Where did you go to college?' "California State. Northridge," he said. "Did you always want to do this kind of work?" "No."
"What made you go into it then?"
"My mother has a sister who had a child born deaf. My uncle was embarrassed by him,"
"Why?"
"He saw him as an indication of his own personal, manly failure. He had produced an imperfect child. He did nothing to help the boy, refused to spend money on special instructors or a special school. He had only the most basic help. My uncle even forbade my aunt from practicing signing with him, especially in front of other people. I remember thinking the child was like agbird with a broken wing, never able to fly. He was growing up wild, sort of like Helen Keller, in a way. You know about her?"
"Sure."
"Anyway, as a hobby almost. I studied signing and whenever I could, whenever my uncle wasn't around. I practiced it with my nephew and slowly began to teach him things. My aunt knew I was doing it, but said nothing, hoping my uncle would never find out. My nephew was almost as hungry for knowledge as Echo is and learned rapidly. His mental
development improved almost geometrically and he slowly began to develop social skills as well. By the time my uncle found out what I was doing, his son had become an honor roll student. It all took him by surprise and he could do nothing but accept the compliments. I knew then that I had a special gift for this and this was what I wanted to do with my life."
"What a wonderful story. How lucky you art."
"Yes," he said. He looked pensive and then a bit sad. I thought that was because he missed the work he had done.
"Couldn't your mother have found someone else to help her and leave you working at the school in Los Angeles?" I asked.
"No," he said sharply. "It's a family business, She needs me."
"It can't be more important than what you were doing."
He looked up at me. His eyes told me he agreed, but he shook his head. "Family," he said. "is more important."
"It seems selfish to me," I told him, refusing to be quiet about it.
He looked away. "I didn't exactly tell you the truth about Echo." he said after a moment of silence, during which I thought he was just going to get up and leave because I was so opinionated.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean. I told you the truth about the rock, but she pushes herself on me in ways."
"Pushes herself?"
"Physically, deliberately pressing her breasts against me, that sort of thing. I stop her, of course, but she's getting more and more aggressive about it and she is becoming a woman. It makes me
uncomfortable."
"She's going to be very pretty." I said.
"Yes. This is why I have to stop tutoring her and why I was so upset when Mrs. Westington brought you into their home to be her companion."
"Why? What did I have to do with it?"
"I thought it would prevent her even longer from permitting Echo to go to school. You're nice and you'd probably be a good companion, but it's not what she needs."
"Oh. You're probably right about that," I admitted.
"I won't leave before I help you," he promised. "You should get a high school diploma. You can't do much in this world without that at least and you might want to go on with your education."
"I don't know what I want. I just know I don't want to be me," I said, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Why would you say that?"
"Why? Look at me! Beside what's happened to me and my family. I'm not someone anyone would care about. I'm just a blob with eyes and a mouth."
"That's not true. Just lose some weight. Big
,
deal. You have a very pretty face." he said.
"Thank you, but I'm not fishing for a
compliment."
"I'm not biting on the hook," he replied quickly, and we both laughed.
He looked about the motor home again. "What a great little clubhouse this would make. huh?"
"I suppose."
"Well, until it gets carted off, maybe we'll use it. It could be our classroom once in a while,"
"Really?"
"Why not?"
"Okay. Oh. I have to get the generator charged, run the engine."
"I'll help you organize things and pack, too, if you like."
"Thank you, but what about your mother and the time you're already spending here and..."
"Don't worry about that." He looked at Destiny again and then turned to me. "Did your uncle dress her in a costume for the show?"
"Oh, yes." I rose and went to the closet. "Here are two," I said, showing him. They belonged to the real Destiny."
"So the doll is exactly her height, weight, measurements. everything?"
"As far as I know. yes." I said.
He stared at her and nodded. Then he looked up at me. "Did you have a costume in the show?"
"I
did but
my weight went up and down so much that I wore it only when I had lost weight. Now, as you can see, I've gained it all back."
"Let's see the costume you wore.'
I squinted and felt the folds form in my forehead. "It's nothing," I said.
"Come on," he urged. "Don't be bashful,"
I turned to the closet, hung up Destiny's outfits, and took out mine. He rose and took it from my hands to hold up in front of me.
"Doesn't look like you can't fit in it"
"I can't. My bulging waist will show."
It really wasn't much more than an abbreviated one-piece bathing suit in bright colors. The back was open almost below my waist. The bodice had cups that lifted my breasts and made them look even larger, deepening my cleavage. There were secret pockets where I kept coins and other things used in some of the tricks Uncle Palaver performed.
"Put
it
on. Let me see."
"No. I'll be embarrassed.'"
"Destiny," he said, turning to the doll. "Should she do it? What do you think? There," he said quickly. "She nodded."
"Oh, she did not."
"I saw her do it. Go ahead. Put it on."
I thought about it a moment and then walked back into Uncle Palaver's bedroom to change into it. I didn't look great, but I didn't look as bad as I thought I would. When I stepped out, Tyler turned and widened his eves,
"You look very good," he said. I was sucking in my stomach. "Turn around."
I did and he whistled.
"My legs look like they belong on a baby elephant."
"They're not that bad. You don't have to lose all that much. April. and I'm not simply trying to make you feel good. You've known me long enough to know I'm brutally honest when I have to be."
I stared at him, not knowing what to say. He stepped up to me, pouring his eves into mine. He brought his lips closer and closer. I was afraid to move, afraid I was dreaming and I would wake up. His kiss was so soft. I wasn't sure