April Shadows (27 page)

By now. I realized both Brenda and Celia would have discovered I had gone. They would have no idea how far I had driven or what my intentions were. I could just hear Brenda saying, "She'll be back. She's just having a tantrum. I don't want to waste any time worrying about her."

Or maybe they would have another row and would break up over what had occurred. In Brenda's mind. I would surely be the cause of it somehow. She was always fonder of Celia than she was of me. I'd have to have been the cause of the unhappiness. If I had remained in that house after Celia left her or she had left Celia, it would have been horrible. I was very wise to leave. I concluded.

When I was on highway I-20W. I realized I was weaving too much from lane to lane. Despite my determination, fatigue was settling in so deeply it had reached my bones. My eyelids were continually drooping. It was nearly five o'clock. and I had to think of stopping to eat something. anyway. I was angry at myself for not being able simply to drive all day and all night until I had reached El Paso and found Uncle Palaver. Once again, this hateful body of mine was disappointing me. I took the next exit, and this time. I had to drive a few miles before finding what looked like an old-fashioned roadside diner. I saw the trailer trucks in the parking lot and imagined it was a popular stop. I remembered Daddy telling us that when you travel on highways in America, you should look for parking lots full of tractor trailers,

"Those truck drivers know where the good food is," he said.
That seemed so long ago now. It was truly as if
I
had led two lives. I listened hard and closely to everything my daddy said during those days. He was truly a heroic figure to me, handsome, successful, and strong in so many ways. I thought there was nothing he didn't know and nothing he could not do.
When little girls discover their fathers are just men, it's the first step toward the end of innocence. We don't want to take that step. We resist, but it's a battle fought in vain. I had to wonder, though, if Brenda had ever gone through it. Maybe that was the biggest difference between us after all. Brenda never had any childhood faiths to be broken. Brenda was born with realism in her eyes. Make-believe and fantasy were a waste of her time, detours that made no sense to her.
In the end, perhaps she was right. I thought. She faced no disillusionment, and the only
disappointments she had were of her own making. There were no mornings filled with dark depression and fear when bubbles of dreams popped.
I pulled into the parking lot, parked, and got out after gazing at myself in the mirror and doing the best I could not to look totally disheveled and wild. It would be enough that I was a young girl traveling alone. I didn't need to do anything else to attract attention. When I entered. I tried to be as
inconspicuous as I could be, keeping my eyes low, my head down, following the hostess to a booth way in the rear of the diner.
The place was very busy and occupied almost exclusively with truck drivers. I saw two women who looked as if they might be riding along with their husbands, but otherwise no other females. Three counter men and two short-order cooks were working feverishly to keep up with the orders and demands two very overworked waitresses shouted. The din of conversation was so loud I didn't realize there was country music playing over the speakers until I had sat myself and gazed at the menu.
The moment I did so. I saw Brenda's critical eyes watching me while she was waiting to hear what fattening food I would order. It was ironic how even after all that had happened and even though I was in flight from her as much as from anything. I could still hear her advice and her criticism and care about it.
I ordered water to drink and the roast chicken and vegetable plate with no bread. My waitress nodded almost as if she had expected no less and scooped up the menu before I could have a change of heart. I noticed one of the younger truck drivers gazing at me from the next booth. He smiled, and I quickly shifted my eyes to the window.
Night was falling faster because the sky was growing increasingly overcast. It's going to rain. I thought. I hated driving and riding in the rain. It always made the trip seem longer to me. There wasn't a sound more monotonous than the sound of the windshield wipers going steadily. Without realizing what I was doing. I closed my eyes and leaned a little more against the imitation faded red leather back of my seat. The drone of conversation, the clank of dishes and silverware, and the vague background of the country music worked like a lullaby. When the waitress returned with my dinner, I heard laughter and snapped my eyes open. All the men with the young truck driver were gazing at me and smiling.
"Are you all right, honey?" the waitress asked.
"Yes," I said quickly. "Just a little tired."
"Where are you going?"
"To see my uncle," I said.
"You better be careful driving in this weather if you're that tired," she said.
The demands of the other customers prevented her from asking any more or giving any more advice. I was happy about that but disgusted at myself once again.
I began to eat. The young truck driver slipped out of his booth and came over to mint. He was tall and lean, with very dark brown eyes and a sharp nose and jaw line. I saw he had a small scar on his chin. His brown hair was cut very close on the sides.
"You were dead asleep a few moments ago," he said. "You feeling sick?"
"No," I said. "I'm fine. I was just a little tired.."
"How far have you driven?"
I glanced at the other drivers in his booth. They were all looking at us and smiling.
"She's too young for you.. Dirk," one of them called, and they all laughed when someone else said. "That's how he likes 'em. Fresh eggs."
Dirk slipped in across from me and folded his hands on the table, "How far?" he asked,
"From Memphis." I said.
He nodded and looked impressed. "Where you going?"
"I'm going to El Paso." I replied. I was too tired to think of any lies, and I didn't care about what he thought, anyway. I continued to eat.
"All by yourself?"
I thought about Brenda and especially about Celia and how she would react to some man just making himself at home in her booth and poking into her business.
"You see anyone else with me?" I shot back at him.
"Whoa," he said, looking away. "You're a tough one. huh?"
"No. I didn't ask you to sit here," I added. My blood was rising into my neck. I was very frightened but battled down anything that would show it.
"I'm just making conversation." he said. "You know how to get to where you're going?"
"Yes, thank you," I said.
"It's not a few hours away, you know. If you want a suggestion about where to stop, there's a motel about seventy-five miles west of here I'd recommend. It's inexpensive and clean. It's called Dryer's. Owner's name is Fred Dryer, and either he or his son Skip runs the office."
I didn't say anything. I kept eating. The food was okay but quite bland. It was nothing special to me. Daddy wasn't right. His rule wasn't always true. Was this what would happen to me my whole life, making discoveries that contradicted the things my daddy had told me and I had treated like gospel?
"How old are you?" Dirk asked.
"Do you mind?" I answered, and glared back at him, trying to look as tough as I could.
"Suit yourself. Just trying to be helpful," he said. rising.
His friends rode him with jeers and laughter as he returned to their booth. I was happy to see them all leave before I was finished.
"Happy trails," Dirk told me. I didn't reply.
"Can I get you anything else, honey?" the waitress asked. I ordered a coffee to go, and then paid and got into my car.
It was much darker now. I turned on my headlights, and just as I pulled out of the parking lot, the drizzle began. I turned on the radio to drown out the sound of the windshield wipers, sipped on my coffee, and continued down the highway. The rain got heavier and heavier. The wipers had trouble keeping up, and for long periods. I had to really slow down. When a car pulled in front of me abruptly. I hit my brakes and skidded to the side, drawing blaring horns from the cars whipping past.
All I needed now was to get into an accident. I thought. I practically crawled along when I resumed. The rain was not letting up. Finally. I gave in and decided I had to stop somewhere. I took the next exit and saw a billboard advertising the motel Dirk, the young truck driver, had recommended.
At least something good came of his poking into my business. I thought, and pulled into the motel driveway, stopping under the overhang in front of the office.
I
got out and went inside. I had to hit a bell to bring out an older balding man who had bushy gray sideburns and a light rust mustache.
"I need a room," I said. "It's raining too hard."
He squinted at me and then stepped up to the counter.
"We don't rent to anyone less than eighteen," he said. "You got proof you're more than eighteen?"
"Why is that?"
"Too many runaways these days," he replied.
"I'm heading to visit my uncle in El Paso, I'm not running away," I offered. He bit the side of his mouth and looked as if he were chewing on my answer. "I met Dirk at a diner, and he told me to stop here," I added quickly.
"Dirk Pearson? You know Dirk?"
"I just met him, but he thought this was a good stopover."
"Oh. Well, if Dirk recommended you. then I guess it's okay," he said.
I let out a breath and sired the book. When I paid him in cash, he looked very suspicious again. He gave me the key to room 8C and told me where it was. I had to drive around the corner of the building to an adjoining section that looked like an afterthought. I saw two tractor trailers parked in the lot and about four other cars. It was raining so hard now I was nearly soaked to the skin just going from my car to the motel-room door. The key didn't work too easily, either, and it took a few tries to get the door opened.
When I got inside. I went right to the bathroom and wiped my soaked hair. The room did look all right, even though the furniture was very worn and faded, and the lighting was dull, giving everything a yellowish glow. The table by the bed was stained with cigarette burns, but the sheet and the cover sheet were clean. The sight of the pillow and mattress was so inviting it wouldn't have mattered much if it was filthy, I thought,
I put on a long nightshirt and, without brushing my teeth or anything, crawled into bed. The rain on the roof sounded like flocks of birds pecking away. It was constant enough to drone me into a deep sleep, however, and moments later. I was drifting into a welcomed silence.
Before morning. I was visited by terrible nightmares. The one that snapped my eyes open and made me shudder was the vision of that young tuck driver. Dirk, sitting in the chair across from my bed, watching me sleep and smiling. When I did open my eves. I was so unfamiliar with my surroundings I was sure the silhouette I saw was indeed him. I couldn't breathe. After a moment. I realized it was not anyone. It was the standing lamp.
I turned on the lights and gazed around. The rain had stopped or nearly stopped. The clock at the side of the bed read five- twenty.
I
was still quite tired and decided to sleep a few more hours. so I turned off the light and lay back again.

I'm alone, I thought. I might be alone for a very long time. I had better get used to being frightened
_;
and I had better get tougher inside, or have to crawl back to Brenda and Celia.

It was actually hunger that woke me again. I had slept more than a few hours.
It
was nearly nine o'clock. My stomach growled, and visions of eggs and bacon, soft rolls and butter, juice and coffee came rushing at me. I had eaten so little. It didn't surprise me, but I was determined to control my hunger.

The next time Brenda sees me, I thought, she
^-
won't be able to recognize me.
Interesting. I realized as I washed and dressed. how I expected to see Brenda again and even soon. What kind of a runaway was I?
I got into my car quickly, and stopped at the office to return the room key. This time, there was a young man behind the counter. He had beady black eyes and hair down his neck and over his ears that actually looked like a black mop had been draped over his head. He was unshaven and had a cigarette, unlit, dangling out of the corner of his mouth.
He looked surprised when I appeared. Then he remembered what I imagined his father had told him.
"You're 8C," he said.
"Not anymore." I told him dropping the key on the counter. "Where's the closest place to get some breakfast?"
"Child's, between here and the highway." he replied. He looked either so bored or so exhausted himself that he would have to keep his eyes open with paper clips.
I thanked him and left.
At Child's, which was a very busy little restaurant, I ordered a glass of orange juice and two soft-boiled eggs. The aroma of bacon and ham and the sight of stacks of delicious pancakes with syrup running down the sides made my stomach twist and turn in agony, but I held to my dieting and even decided to drink my coffee black. I ate as quickly as I could. so I wouldn't be confronted with all the good food, and got back onto the highway after I got gas again.
I got onto I-10W and felt more energized knowing I was closing in on Uncle Palaver's location. Before I reached El Paso. I stopped again and this time had a salad with a glass of water. My stomach was beginning to rebel, demanding more and not letting my hunger pangs stop. but I just drank more water instead of ordering anything else.
When I reached El Paso. I pulled into a gas station and got directions to the theater where Uncle Palaver was performing. It turned out to be out of the city, farther west on the I-10 highway. I made a few wrong turns and didn't reach the theater until it was nearly six-thirty. The box office wasn't yet open, but there was a big poster of Uncle Palaver and Destiny.
The theater itself looked like a converted old warehouse. I had no idea where Uncle Palaver might have parked his motor home. so I thought the best thing to do was wait for the box office to open to see if I could get any information. I sat in the car and watched people begin to arrive. Finally, the box office opened. and I got out.
The woman inside was finishing organizing her change when I stepped up.
"Can you tell me where I could find Palaver?" I asked her.
"Inside at seven-thirty," she replied dryly without so much as glancing at me.
"No. I mean now." I said.
She looked up. annoyed. Her hair looked as if it had been molded out of wire and glued to her head. She had so much makeup on that anyone would have assumed she was part of the show.
"What?" she asked. squinting.
"I need to see him beforehand. I'm his niece. and I just drove in from Tennessee. actually,"
She raised her eyebrow and pilled her lower lip back and in so far it created two thin gullies along her chin.
"Drove in from Tennessee?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well. I have no idea where he is. I just sell tickets here. He'll be here at seven-thirty. Do you want a ticket, or don't you?"
Four people had come up behind me and were waiting. Other people had parked and were entering the theater.
"Yes," I said quickly, not knowing what else to do.
I paid for the ticket and entered the theater. This wasn't the way
I
wanted to surprise him, but perhaps it would have to do. Unfortunately, the first five rows were already filled. I found the closest seat I could and sat waiting. The theater probably didn't hold more than three hundred or so people, so it filled up quickly. I guessed that Uncle Palaver's television appearances and other publicity must be working for him.
I realized, of course. that I had never seen one of Uncle Palaver's shows. None of us had. We had only the news clippings and pictures. I was very excited and eager for him to know I was here. I sat waiting for the curtain to open. I had worn the watch he had given me some time ago at Brenda's basketball game. There was only ten minutes to the start of his and Destiny's performance. Everyone around me seemed genuinely excited. I was proud and happy for Uncle Palaver. He was a success after all.
Just before seven-thirty, the curtain began to inch open, and the lights dimmed around us. A spotlight widened on the center of the stage and then suddenly went off and then on like a blink of an eye. There before us was Destiny, seated on a chair. only...
I leaned forward. What was this? Some gimmick? A hush came over the audience.
This wasn't Destiny herself. It was a life-size doll. A moment later. Uncle Palaver stepped out dressed in a tuxedo and top hat. The audience applauded, and he smiled, bowed, and looked at the doll.
"Nice crowd. Destiny," he said.
The doll's head turned ever so slowly as if it were panning the audience. Then the doll nodded, and its mouth moved. We heard. "It's a crowd. How do you know they're nice?"
People laughed. He's a ventriloquist, too, I thought. Funny how we never knew and he never did any of that at our house.
"Well, we'll soon find out," Uncle Palaver said. "Let's get some of them up here."
He stepped off the stage and picked out a half dozen members of the audience and had them up to the stage. As he had them introduce themselves, he performed his sleight-of-hand tricks, pulling what would be embarrassing things out of their ears, and somehow, out of their jacket and pants pockets. He had an elderly man reach into his own pocket and come out with a folded-up Playboy magazine centerfold. The man's face turned red-dye-numbereight red, and his wife, who was in the audience, howled, causing the audience to roar. He swore he hadn't put that in his pocket. Uncle Palaver turned to the doll and asked its opinion, and it said he should have the gentleman look in his rear pocket now. Nervously, he did, and when he produced another folded centerfold. the audience applauded vigorously.
Every time Uncle Palaver performed a trick, he turned to the life-size doll of Destiny, and it moved its mouth and offered a comment. Where was Destiny herself? I wondered, and looked to the corners of the stage, expecting her to step out any moment.
She didn't.
Following the tricks, he then somehow managed to hypnotize the entire group right before our eyes. He had them do very silly things which Destiny suggested. The audience loved it. After that, he woke them all, and they looked sincerely confused. He thanked them, and they returned to their seats.
His ventriloquist act continued, with Destiny singing while he drank a glass of water. Almost everything he did now drew applause. The next part of his act involved what he called his psychic memory. One of the ushers in the theater went down the aisle, choosing people to stand. Each person recited his or her name, and then he guessed their ages within a year or two. My heart thumped when the usher reached our row, but he didn't choose me. After no fewer than fifty were chosen and had recited their names. Uncle Palaver asked them to sit.
He put his hand on the doll's shoulder and leaned down to hear what looked like a whisper. He turned back to the audience and began calling out the names of each who had stood. When he or she stood, he, leaning in front of the doll each time, then gave back his or her name and age. He didn't make a single mistake, and when all fifty were standing, the audience cheered and applauded.
He thanked the volunteers who sat and then began to brag about his capabilities. I thought he was being a little too immodest when, suddenly, the lifesize doll screamed. "Aren't you being a little selfcentered? You couldn't do any of this without me."
He then got into an argument with the doll about who was more important. Finally, he said. "Okay, smarty-pants. Let's see how you do without me."
He marched off the stage, and all we saw now was the doll sitting and staring out at us. Everyone assumed the same thing. Uncle Palaver would return, and the doll would have to admit it was totally dependent upon him. But that's not what happened.
What happened brought the audience to its feet, including me.
Suddenly. without Uncle Palaver there, the doll's head moved from side to side, it leaned a bit toward us, and its mouth opened.
"Is he gone?" it asked without him there.
The curtain closed to thunderous applause and then opened again for Uncle Palaver to take his bows. He pointed to the doll, and it leaned forward. We were actually applauding it as if it were alive.
Everyone began to leave. I tried to rush out to get backstage quickly, but people were moving so slowly, Finally. I did. A stagehand stopped me, and I told him who I was and asked to see my uncle. He said he was leaving from the rear door. so I crossed the stage and made my way back just in time to see Uncle Palaver carrying the doll in his arms and heading for the motor home, which had been parked behind the building.
I called to him, and he turned slowly. At first, he looked as if he didn't recognize me. I moved closer, and then his eyes widened.
"April? What are you doing here?" he asked.
"It's a long story, Uncle Palaver, a long, terrible story. but I've come to be with you because I have nowhere else to go," I said.
He looked at the doll as if he expected it to say something, to ask something, and I thought I saw him whisper in its ear.
"Come inside," he said, and walked up the short steps into his motor home.
I followed quickly and watched him carry the doll through the motor home to the rear, where his bedroom was located.
"Just a minute," he said, and went inside, closing the door.
I stood there gazing around. The motor home was as I remembered it, only it wasn't as neat. There were dishes in the sink and clothing strewn about the small living room area.
"Okay," Uncle Palaver said, coming out of the bedroom. "Tell me what's going on."
He sat on the small settee. and I sat across from him.
Where do I begin? I wandered. How do I explain it without embarrassing myself? I began by giving him details about our move, my entrance to a new school, my friendship with Peter Smoke. I rambled on and on, skirting the crisis that had sent me fleeing from Brenda. He listened politely, but I could see he was getting impatient.
"Why did you run away?" he finally demanded.
I took a deep breath and revealed the relationship Brenda had with Celia. He didn't look surprised. He nodded and listened.
"That's who your sister is. You shouldn't have run away from her."
"That wasn't the reason," I replied. and then told him about my last night. I didn't get into actual details. but I gave him enough to widen his eves and get him to understand why I had to leave.
"I see," he said. "That is unfortunate. Well, we should call Brenda and let her know you're all right,"
"No," I said sharply. "She'll only tell you to send me back. I don't want to go back. ever!"
He sat back, staring at me. I looked toward the bedroom and then asked him about Destiny.
"Where is she?"
He let his head fall back and gazed up at the ceiling with his mouth open so long I thought he had either fainted with his eves open or fallen asleep.
"She's tired," he said, looking at me again. "She's exhausted, matter of fact. Remember the illness I described?"
"Yes. But where is she?"
"She's in bed," he replied, as if it were very obvious. "I've explained about you," he added.
I nodded. "I don't want to be any burden.I'll help you with her, with anything."
"That's nice," he said, looking terribly sad.
"How long have you had that life-size doll of her?"