"I don't know," he said. He looked away and squeezed his temples.
"I'm sorry. Uncle Palaver. I didn't mean to make you think about it.''
He didn't answer. After a moment. I left him sitting there and went to my room to begin to pack my clothes and my possessions. Celia stopped in to say good-bye.
"I'm the point man." she declared. "You know, the one who goes ahead and makes sure things are all right for the others following."
I was sitting on the floor next to a carton I was filling with old letters, pictures, souvenirs from trips, each item attached to a memory that replayed before me. I hadn't realized it, but tears were streaming down my cheeks, zigzagging across my jaw bone.
"Oh. April." Celia said, kneeling down beside me to hug me. "You poor dear. Ifs all so much harder for the younger child. I know. Psychologists talk about the length of time between the cutting of the umbilical chord and the present. Brenda's already one through something of a separation by attending college away from home, not that she's any less devastated. I just don't want you to feel like you're alone in the world, okay? I know how terrible that could be."
I wiped away the tears.
"We'll be there for each other now." she added, kissing me on the cheek. "We'll be like the Three Musketeers, okay?"
I nodded. Was she really this excited about it, o
r was she pretending for my sake?
"Don't expect me to be a good cook. I was never a good cook," she kidded. "Is there anything you need me to do for you'?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No, thank you."
"Okay, then. I'll see you soon. You'll like this new neighborhood, and I'm sure the school is fine. 'Bye for now," she added, and left.
I sat there looking after her and then looking at the carton. It seemed I needed to continually reinforce reality, continually convince myself all this was really and truly happening. I returned to packing, and a little while later. Brenda looked in on me,
"How is it going?" she asked.
I shrugged. "All right, I guess, I don't really have all that much that I want to take."
"No, neither do I. We're leaving a lot here. Everything in the garage, all the lawn equipment... someone will get a very good deal. I'm sure. Uncle Palaver is thinking of leaving tonight," she added. and I looked up sharply.
"So soon?"
"There's really no point in his lingering around. April, I nave him some of Mama's things, their mother's cameo and an ivory jewelry case that had belonged to her. He's on the phone making his arrangements."
"I thought he'd stay until we left," I said. Letting him go was such a final and definitive thing. Maybe I would never see him again.
"There's no point in that, and anyone can see how painful it is for him to just sit around here watching us pack up to leave. We'll call him when we're established in Memphis and give him our phone number and address."
"How will we find him?"
"I have his itinerary, the one Mama had out on Daddy's desk." she said. "He told me he's sticking to it, and it's nearly a year's scheduled performances, places, addresses, even phone numbers of the theaters."
I dropped an old diary into the carton and stood up. "Maybe I should spend some time with him. then."
"It would be better for us if you get done what you have to get done." Brenda replied. "He's not running right out."
"I hate doing this."
"I know, but this isn't going to be the last time you or I do things we hate to do. It's a part of life we can't escape. April."
"What doesn't destroy me makes me stronger." I muttered, and she smiled.
"You remember that."
"I should. I've heard you say it a thousand times when you're nearly exhausted or in some sort of pain exercising and running."