What I soon realized, however, was that Mrs.
Westington needed me as much as Echo did. She was
brimful of wisdom and a lifetime of experiences she
desperately had to share with someone she loved. I
like that. I like the feeling of being important to
someone and loved. Even when Daddy and Mama and
my older sister. Brenda. and I were all still together. I
didn't feel as needed as I felt here in the old house and
vineyard property in northern California.
A wrong turn onto a dead-end road brought me
to this place and to these people. After my mother's
death, which wasn't all that long after my father's
secret fatal illness. I had gone to live with Brenda and
her lover. Celia. Both attended college in Memphis.
where Brenda had won an athletic scholarship. Like
my parents. I ignored any thoughts about Brenda's
being gay. I had no doubts that my parents knew it to
be true but kept it locked in their hearts. I was afraid
to ask any questions, afraid that the same questions
might someday be asked of me, afraid that on the back
of my neck I would feel the breeze of all that
whispering.
My deep unhappiness after Mama's passing and
then a traumatic sexual incident with Celia sent me
fleeing to my uncle Palaver, my mother's brother, for
emotional asylum. Before I came here to Mrs.
Westington's home, I had been living and traveling for
months with my uncle. He was a magician and an
excellent ventriloquist who mainly went from theater
to theater in his motor home to perform. I soon