his heart. Just don't go thinking that's the way to solve
all your problems and follow in his footsteps. April.
It's as good as putting your head in the sand." Of course. I knew what she meant. I still had all
of his magic paraphernalia. Nothing had been moved
or touched, and when I moved in, besides my Mr.
Panda teddy bear that my father had given me years
ago, I brought in some of Uncle Palaver's tricks with
me. It gave me the feeling he was still there. Under his
tutelage. I had mastered many of the illusions and
tricks, and also had become an amateur ventriloquist
myself. Eventually. I would use Destiny and perform
for Echo and Tyler Monahan, her tutor, who would
become mine as well,
When I had run away from Brenda. I had run away from school. too. I was not yet eighteen and I wanted to get my high school equivalency. I had no idea what I would do with my life. but I knew I was at a great disadvantage without the diploma. As Mrs. Westington would say. "You have fewer roads to travel and in this world you need to have every direction available to you."
But this and much more was all to come at the end of the new journey I had begun.
Mrs. Westington said that even if you sit in one place your whole life, you still make many trips down many different roads.
"And the grave is just a way station, just a place to wait for the next train. It's why I don't visit cemeteries. The dead have all gone on their way, all the ones I loved. But they'll always be here." she said, gently tapping her long, honey right forefinger against her temple. "They'll always be here. I hear their voices, even their footsteps."
When she said things like that, we'd all be quiet. Trevor, me, and especially Echo, who saw our thoughtfulness and even though she was deaf, heard our silence.
The four of us looked out at that advancing night from the front porch. We were not like most people when it came to the approaching darkness.
We thought about it.
I Amnesia
. Filtered through the sheer white cotton curtains, the sudden sun snapped my eyelids open. For a long moment. I lay there staring up at the center ceiling light fixture, an oversized silver blue lantern with four small bulbs. My thoughts and memories spun like milk and coffee that were stirred vigorously, all of it mixing into a cup of confusion.
Where was I? How did I get here? Had all that happened since Daddy deserted us been only a dream, a long, sticky nightmare against which I had struggled and battled into the morning? If that were only true. I thought. If I really had awakened to a second chance, how would I change my life? What would I do differently? I was afraid to think about any of it. What if I did something that would bring it all back?
It didn't surprise me that I was plagued by indecision. Every significant choice I had made, especially recently, seemed to have taken me into deeper shadows, deeper bewilderment and
pandemonium. I was dangerously close to becoming inert, terrified of moving in any direction.
Lying there and struggling to remember it all. I realized how much I wanted to become an amnesiac. Forgetting was so temptingly luxurious. Yes, how wonderful it would be if today really was the first day of my life. I thought. Daddy wouldn't have died of a brain tumor he had kept secret from us. Mama wouldn't have become so depressed she had to overdose on sleeping pills. My sister. Brenda, wouldn't hate me for being unable to reject her girlfriend Celia's advances, and I wouldn't have had to watch Uncle Palaver drink himself to death. Surely that was enough to drive anyone willingly into a state of amnesia.
I took a deep breath and sat up slowly. My nightgown was a little snug under my arms. Mrs. Westington had insisted I use whatever of her daughter Rhona's clothing I could fit into, which really wasn't much more than this pink nightgown I now wore. The closet was filled with what looked like relatively unworn garments, pretty one-piece dresses, skirts, and blouses I could only dream of wearing. I was still a good twenty pounds overweight and hated the sight of myself undressed. The roll of fat around my waist made it look like I had swallowed a small inner tube. When I was younger, I used to wonder if I could poke myself with a pin and let the fat out as I could let the air out of a balloon. I came close to trying it.
Despite my weight. I did hold up every pretty garment Rhona had left behind and dream of what I would look like if I could actually fit into each. When I sifted through the closet. I realized Rhona had left a considerable wardrobe. A few skirts and blouses actually still had sales tags hanging on them. There were at least two-dozen pairs of shoes. However, when she had abandoned her responsibilities nearly ten years ago, she had left more than just her clothing and other material possessions behind. According to Mrs. Westington, Rhona had deserted her deaf daughter. Echo, without a good-bye, without a promise to return. She hadn't even left a note for her to read someday explaining why she had left her!
"She gave that girl nothing but her name. When she left, it was as if that daughter of mine turned into a puff of smoke," Mrs. Westington said, and snapped her fingers. She sat in her favorite chair and talked about Rhona. While she did, she fixed her eves on the wall behind me as if she could see it all projected and running like a home movie.
"She was always unhappy, always complaining. She told me she had to get away and have some fun with her life. She couldn't stomach being responsible for a child, especially a disabled one. One day she was gone, just like that. I should have expected it. She never cared a tinker's damn about anything that wasn't solely for her own pleasure. I swear that girl was born without a conscience. The good angels must have been on vacation when I gave birth. She was my daughter and I did what I could bringing her up. but you'd have to dig deeply into the well of stinginess to find someone more self-centered,"