April Shadows (10 page)

"Be careful, honey," Mama said.
Brenda nodded and winked at me. My big sister winked at me, and then she drove off slowly, turning out of the driveway and moving until she was c
^,
one.
Mama shook off a sob and put her arm around me.
We stood there staring after Brenda, both of us scared to admit how afraid we were of the silence that lingered.
Both of us scared of tomorrow.

Summer seemed to take forever to end after Brenda left us. I would sit on the grass and then lie back and look up at the sky, just watching the wind move clouds lazily. Sometimes I did it right after one of my runs. I fried having the same enthusiasm about the exercise that I had when Brenda was running beside me or just ahead of me. It was harder to keep it up. but I wanted to do it for her as much as for myself. I couldn't disappoint her. I didn't want her to give up on me.

But it was a lonely time for me. The few friends I had were away for the summer at camps or on family trips. It got so I wanted to sleep later so there would be less time to be awake and the day would pass faster. I was actually glad when school finally began, even though I had a hard time getting back into a regular schedule of activities. I just wanted to drift like those clouds I watched.

My English teacher quoted Henry David Thoreau one day and said. "Time is the stream I go a fishing in." We were learning how different authors treated the concept of time in their works. Thoreau, he said, didn't live his life according to any schedule or any clock. He didn't have appointments hanging over his head. He ignored it all and enjoyed life. When I heard all this and read some of it. I became envious. How wonderful not to care about anything but the moment, to be able to relax and daydream with no one standing over me, reminding me of my
responsibilities.

I also wondered, why teach us about Thoreau? Why torment us? How could we escape from reacting to the ringing of bells, being late, worrying about tomorrow and the days left until an assignment was due? How could we escape from torturing ourselves about our future, our graduation day? For us, the clock was ticking like a time bomb. Time wasn't a stream. Minutes weren't drops of water. They were little bees stinging us every time we dared slack off.

And then I thought about Uncle Palaver out there on the highways of America, driving at his own pace, accepting this date or that if he wished, or not accepting any and just drifting, or parking by a beautiful scenic area and just taking in nature. Suddenly, despite all that Daddy had said about him, I envied him. Time was truly a stream for Uncle Palaver, and vet he was an adult in an adult world. He had to pay taxes and bills and worry about health insurance and all that, but maybe being able to hold on to part of Thoreau's dream was Uncle Palaver's greatest magical achievement.

For Mama, time appeared to have come to a standstill. She, too, lost interest in dates, schedules, obligations, and calendars. She was adrift in a different way, sort of in limbo. The days could come: the days could go. It didn't matter to her. She forgot her own birthday, in fact, and was genuinely surprised to receive gifts from Brenda and me.

I was told by more than one sympathetic mourner that time had healing qualities. Every tick of the clock was supposed to be another step away from the sadness, and soon it would take us so far that we would no longer cry or suffer such great sorrow. However, it wasn't working that way for Mama. She refused to accept tomorrow. She refused to forget. For her, the clock had stopped,

I wrote often to Brenda, and whenever I could. I spoke to her on the telephone about my concerns for Mama. Brenda had opted to attend Thompson University in Memphis because it had such a wellorganized and impressive female athletic department. It was a small college with only a little more than a thousand students, but its record on the basketball and volleyball courts, as well as women's field hockey, was impressive thanks to its recruiting. One of its graduates. Mona LePage, did get chosen for the women's Olympic volleyball team, and the school was very proud of her.

Since the college was in Memphis, most of the students commuted, but there was a small, twohundred-population women's dormitory on the campus. and Brenda shared a room with a girl three years ahead of her. Celia Harding. Apparently, they had met at Brenda's registration and had hit it off so well so quickly that they decided to be roommates. In all her letters and phone calls. Brenda praised and raved about Celia Harding. In fact, she talked so much about her I couldn't help but be jealous. I was surprised, too, when she told me she was bringing Celia home to spend Thanksgiving with us.

First. I thought it was too soon to have an overnight guest, and second. I was afraid Mama wasn't strong enough to entertain a stranger, but Brenda had already discussed it with Mama, and Mama had agreed and even sounded a little excited about it. I relented and admitted to myself that it could be a good thing. It would take Mama's mind off the sadness and give her reason to do a full-blown Thanksgiving dinner. In my heart of hearts, I hoped and prayed that somehow Uncle Palaver would show up as well. He had been at our home only once for Thanksgiving, and I was just five years old at the time and barely remembered.

He called more often now. Mama would get all choked up on the phone, and I would take over and talk to him and hear about his adventurous life on the road. I kept prodding him about Thanksgiving. I didn't want to come right out and say Mama needed him or I needed him, but I came as close to doing that as I could. For a while, I did think he would come, but two weeks before Thanksgiving, he called to tell us about a wonderful opportunity he was given if he went to California. He was going to be featured on more than a dozen regional television shows, and his manager thought it could be just the break he needed to get onto a national television stage of one sort or another.

There were so many talented entertainers out there trying for the big breaks, and so many really deserved one. The competition was fierce, and opportunities like the one presented to Uncle Palaver so rare.

"It would be cruel and unfair to Warner to pressure him to come back here for Thanksgiving and miss his chances. April." Mama told me when I whined a little too much about it. "He has worked too long and too hard."

Of course, she was right, so I stopped talking about him, and when he called again. I wished him luck. He promised to have a copy of one of the television appearances sent to us on video tape.

"Maybe I'll be there for Christmas." he offered. but I did recall him mentioning the possibility of his being hired to do a ten-day cruise out of Los Angeles and down to what was called the Mexican Riviera over Christmas and New Year's Eve.
I
didn't ask him. but I wondered if all of these bookings included Destiny as well. I imagined if she was part of his act, she would accompany him. Besides. I was sure he would want to be with her on New Year's Eve.

Just the thought of spending a New Year's Eve after Daddy's death was terrifying to me. Mama would be so lost. I thought. Maybe I could talk her into our going away, too, I decided. I tried, and she said she would think about it, but I knew it didn't go longer than a few seconds in her mind before floating away and disappearing like smoke.

The day before Brenda was to arrive with Celia. Mama showed some of her old energy. She changed the curtains in the West room and bought a new area rug to put next to the bed. That,afternoon, she decided the bedding now didn't fit the decor and, almost in a panic about it, had me go with her to buy new bedding. There wasn't a spot in the guest room she didn't polish. She washed down the bathroom as if she were out to prevent some sort of infectious disease. I kept asking her to slow down, to rest, but she told me she was fine.

She was still in there diddling about with one thing or another in the evening until she finally decided it was good enough and went to bed. The next morning, she was up before I was and working on the Thanksgiving dinner. She had me do all sorts of cleaning up around the house. I told her I had already vacuumed the living room, but she didn't remember, and she didn't believe it was good enough even if I had done it.

"We'll be exhausted by the time Brenda and her roommate arrive. Mama." I protested. "What good will that be?"

"Stop exaggerating," she told me, and had me wash the windows by the front door.
"Who's coming, the queen of England?" I muttered. She overheard me.
"Your father and I always treat our guests like royalty," she said. "We're old-fashioned that way."
I turned and looked at her. She was smiling, but it was different. That, plus the use of the present tense in relation to Daddy, sounded a small alarm in my heart. Later, it sounded again when I looked in at the dining room table and saw there was one more place setting than we needed.
"Mama," I said softly, entering the kitchen and coming up behind her while she prepared her sweet potato pie, "you put out too many plates."
"What?" she said, turning and grimacing with confusion. "What are you saying?"
"There are only four of us for dinner, not five, unless you invited someone else without telling me."
"Oh,' she said. "I put out five?"
"Yes, Mama."
She shook her head. "Old habits die hard." she said, and returned to her sweet potato pie.
"I'll fix it," I told her.
She didn't reply, but I went into the dining room and rearranged it all. I left the place at the seat that Daddy always occupied empty, just as we had been doing since the day he left. Too many times. I had caught Mama looking at that empty place. Sometimes, she seemed to be seeing him there. I wouldn't say anything. I would pretend not to notice.
To keep my mind off it all the day Brenda and Celia were to arrive. I went into the living room and began reading my English novel assignment. I gazed at the clock from time to time in anticipation. Brenda had told us that she and Celia were meeting with some of their friends first to celebrate a bit and then heading to our house. They were supposed to arrive at one.
Mama was baking two pies, an apple and a pumpkin. Those had been Daddy's favorites, especially on Thanksgiving, and twice this morning, she had told me that.
"We've always had a nice Thanksgiving." she concluded. "Your father once said. 'I think I married you for your Thanksgiving dinners.'
"
She laughed, I was happy to see her do that, but the way she looked when she said these things still bothered me. I couldn't explain why, but it did. For that reason, as much as anything, I couldn't wait for Brenda to arrive. She was already more than a half hour late. Impatient, I couldn't continue reading. I got up and paced about the house, going to the front door to look out every five minutes or so. Finally, I saw her car turn into the driveway, and a surge of excitement and happiness filled my heart.
Wait until she sees me
, I thought. I had lost another ten pounds.
She'll be so proud of me
. Days before Thanksgiving. I was running and exercising more often and even contemplated going out for the girls' volleyball team.
I didn't want to be caught standing and looking out the front window, but I couldn't contain my bulging curiosity about Celia, after all Brenda's letters and all her conversations in which she praised Celia. I had never seen Brenda so taken with any other girl the way she was now taken with Celia. Who was this wondrous person?
When they stepped out of the car.
I
couldn't take my eyes off Celia Harding. She was taller than Brenda and more shapely, with long hair the color of a new penny. She had it tied in a ponytail. I had been hoping she would be short and plain- looking, even as overweight as I still was. As they drew closer. I saw she had beautifully shaped olive-green eyes and a soft, angelic smile, with tiny freckles on the crests of her cheeks. They giggled and brushed shoulders. I opened the door before they got to it and stood looking out at them. It took them by complete surprise.
"April!" Brenda said, as if she never expected to see me. "What were you doing, waiting at the door?"
She turned to Celia and laughed.
"This is my little sister. April. April. meet Celia Harding."
"Hi," she said. "I've heard a lot about you. April."
"Hi," I said. I didn't want to say I had heard a lot about her, and I didn't like being called a little sister.
"Are you going to let us in?" Brenda asked.
"What? Oh." I stepped back, and they entered.
"What a sweet-looking house," Celia said,
Sweet-looking?
What kind of thing was that to say about our home?
"Where's Mama?" Brenda asked me.
"In the kitchen. She's been there most of the day." I said. "working harder than usual because we have a guest,"
"Mama!" Brenda shouted, and walked by me. Celia smiled at me and followed.
I stood out in the hallway and listened to Brenda's introduction of Celia. and Mama's happy voice. In moments, they were all talking at once about the food, their trip, college. It was as if I were completely forgotten. Brenda didn't ask me a single question about my activities or what I was doing at school. Mama was totally absorbed in everything Celia was saving. She sat there with a smile on her face, a smile I hadn't seen so bright and alive for some time.
I
went back to the living room, picked up my book, and flopped into the big chair that used to be Daddy's chair. It was soft, with thick arms, and you could push back on it and bring up a footrest. To me, it felt as if I were in Daddy's arms again.
My eyes ran off the pages of the book. I really didn't absorb any of it. Instead. I continued to listen to the chatter among Mama. Brenda. and Celia. It was as if Celia had been an old friend or even a long-lost sister or something. Their laughter annoyed me. Finally, I heard them start down the hallway to show Celia the rest of the house and her room. They paused in the living room doorway and looked in at me.
"April." Mama said, full of surprise. "Did you meet Brenda's roommate?'
"Yes," I said. "I met them at the door. and I was in the kitchen just before, too. Mama!" I practically screamed.
"Were you? Well, what are you doing?"
"I'm reading my English assignment." I said petulantly. I was still waiting for Brenda to make some comment about my lost weight.
"Oh," Brenda said to Celia instead. "I've got to show you my scrapbook. It's in my room. Let's get you settled into yours," she added, and the two of them continued down the hallway.
"I hope it's all right," Mama cried after them. "I had so little time to prepare." She glanced at me again and then returned to the kitchen.
I sat there sulking until I got bored and rose to see what everyone was doing. Mama had the radio on in the kitchen and was listening to music, which was something she hadn't done for some time. I glanced in at her and saw her checking on everything in and above the stove.
As casually and seemingly as disinterested as I could pretend to be. I strolled down the hallway to Brenda's room and the guest room. The door to the guest room was open. and Celia's bag was still unopened on the bed. The door to Brenda's room was closed. I stood there, listening as hard as I could. They were talking, but not very loudly and occasionally, I heard a ripple of laughter from both of them.
Brenda had never had a close girlfriend in the sense most of the girls I knew had. I couldn't remember a time she had ever invited anyone to sleep over or have dinner with us, and she was never invited to anyone else's house. either. She palled around with her teammates in school, but they never did anything else together. Perhaps that was why Mama was so excited
^-
about Celia, I thought. Still, it was odd that I had never given it much thought until now. Even I. who was probably tied for the most unpopular girl in history, had girlfriends over on occasion. It didn't create a close, best-friend relationship or anything, but it was something.
I thought about knocking on Brenda's door. It had been months since she had left, and although we wrote to each other and spoke on the phone, we still had a lot of catching up to do. Why wasn't that as important to her as it was to me? Celia was probably just demanding so much attention. I thought, She looked like a spoiled woman. I concluded, although I had no way to defend or explain that. I knocked on Brenda's door.
"Yes?"
I opened the door and looked in. They were both on Brenda's bed, lying side by side and turned toward each other. The sight of someone else in Brenda's bed stopped me cold. I had never slept with her or crawled in beside her, even when we were in mourning. Brenda leaned on her left elbow and looked my way.
"Mama need us?" she asked. "No, not yet," I said.
"What's up?"
"Um. I spoke to Uncle Palaver yesterday," I said, searching for something quickly.
"Yeah, Mama told me when I called. Uncle Palaver," she explained,"is my mother's younger brother."
"Oh, yes, the magician. I was hoping to see him," Celia said, sitting up.
She had untied her hair and shook her head so the strands would fall loosely about her shoulders. Her hair looked so soft and light I thought the strands could float. My own hair always felt coarse and rough to me, no matter what wonder shampoo and treatment I employed.
"I was hoping he'd tell us how to make Ms. Gitalong disappear," Celia added, and they both laughed.
"Who's Ms. Gitalong?" I asked. grimacing.
"She's the dorm mother. Her real name is Gitman, but everyone calls her Gitalong because they'd like her to git along," Brenda explained. "'Celia gave her the name, and it's stuck."
The two of them laughed again.
"It doesn't sound like you're enjoying being there," I said, not hiding my hope that it was true.
"Oh, we find ways to enjoy ourselves," Brenda said, and they giggled.
I had never heard Brenda laugh so much or giggle. It was growing even more annoying.
"I'm thinking of going out for the girls' volleyball team this year." I said. "I didn't tell you on the phone because I wasn't sure, but now I am."
"Great," Brenda said. She turned back to Celia. "I think we should get ready for dinner. Why don't you ask Mama how much longer, April? Ask her if she wants us to do anything," she added.
"She doesn't."
I
said. "You know she doesn't. I'll ask her anyway," I said, relenting quickly, and looked at Celia, who held her smile on me like a flashlight.
I turned and hurried out to the kitchen.
"Brenda and her friend want to know how much longer. Mama," I said, making it sound as if Celia were the one being more demanding,
"Oh, tell them not to rush. I'll have everything set in an hour,' Mama said. "Isn't Brenda's friend nice and very pretty?"
"She's very pretty." I admitted. "I don't know how nice she is yet."
I walked back to Brenda's room. She was in her robe, and the door to her bathroom was closed, but
I
could hear the shower going.
"Mama says in about an hour," I said. I looked at the bathroom door. "Why doesn't she use the shower in her room?"
"That's just a tub shower. My stall shower is so much better," Brenda said. "Don't worry. We're quite used to sharing,everything."
She stood by her open closet, considering what to wear. Finally. I had to say it.
"I lost ten more pounds. Brenda."
She turned and looked at me. "Why, yes, you have," she said. "That's wonderful. Now, don't go gaining it back like you did last time you lost weight," she warned.
And then she turned back to her closet. The shower stopped running, and a moment later. Celia opened the door. She stood completely naked, not even using the towel to cover herself. She had the figure of a professional model, her breasts round and firm and her waist small, with a stomach as flat as a sheet of paper. She didn't seem at all self-conscious about her nudity in front of me. She gave me barely a glance.
I'd never have a figure like that, I thought sadly. "Brenda, stupid me. I forgot my electric toothbrush."
"No problem," Brenda said. "You can use mine."
Ugh, I thought. They even share toothbrushes. If I have to share a dorm room with another girl like this,I won't go to college.
Celia smiled and shrugged. "Thanks," she said, "Nice shower, Hi. April," she added, laughed, and closed the door.
"Aren't you going to dress for dinner?" Brenda asked me. "It's special for Mama."
"What? Oh, yeah. sure. I have something new to wear since I lost weight." I said, fishing for a compliment.
Brenda nodded. "Good," she said and turned back to her closet.
I should have invited someone to dinner, too. I thought angrily, even a homeless person, a stranger, so I wouldn't feel alone.
At dinner. Celia took over some of my duties without Mama asking. She helped serve, and when Brenda tried to get up to do something. Celia insisted she sit.
"I have to earn my keep," she said, and Brenda laughed again.
Did they always giggle at whatever each other said? I wondered. I had never seen Brenda act so immature.
"You don't earn your keep at the dorm." Brenda teased.
"Oh, and you do. I suppose." Celia countered, bumping her hip against Brenda's shoulder.
That got Mama started on questions about the dorm. She started to tell stories about her own college experiences, stories
I
had never heard her tell. Because
I
had yet to attend college,
I
couldn't contribute anything to the discussion.
"I'm
going to go to college as far away as possible,"
I
finally blurted. Everyone turned to me.
"I'd
like to go to college in Europe, in fact, so
I
can meet interesting people who are different."
"You?" Brenda said. "You've never slept anywhere but here, never been away except on family vacations when you were much younger. We haven't gone anywhere like that for almost two years, in fact."
"Yes, we have,"
I
said, my eyes burning. "When we went to see Daddy."
How she could forget that irked me.
I
saw her flinch and blink as if
I
had thrown a cup of hot water in her face. She glanced at Celia, whose smile quickly evaporated. Mama's forehead creased, and her eves grew small.
"I
don't mean something like that, April.
I
mean going away for fun, sleeping over at a friend's house or something."
"You never did, either. Brenda."
"But
I'm
not telling everyone
I
want to go to college in Europe. You are," she said so sharply it brought tears to my eyes.
"Well. I do," I insisted. "In fact." I added, quickly fabricating. "Uncle Palaver invited me to join him and Destiny on his tour one of these days, and I might just do that this coming summer."
Brenda started to laugh.
"I might!" I said.
"Okay, good for you." Brenda said. "Don't get so emotional,"